A/N - My first story ever submitted on FF. I do not own any of the characters, or else there will be more yaoi. Please R&R

Act I - Stockholm Syndrome – Scene I – Animosity

The silence that had befallen the murky darkness was intensifying. It trickled through every layer, every breath, every pixel, almost deadly. It was astonishing, amplifying, and downright eerie.

Sight long discarded the empty space void of all colour and design. There was not a hint of mortal existence or even a shadow lurking in the abyss.

Devoid of all senses, yet, he knew he was there; lingering as a thought bubble in the timeless vacuum. Wandering around aimlessly, unknown to the world, locked up away in a paradox.

It was unbelievably cold; not that he could feel it, but the very memory of the sensation gave him the key to be aware of his surroundings. The temperature seemed to escalate further down, and he knew – if he had a capacity to feel it, he would undeniably freeze.

However, he also knew that he was still very much alive, just like his non-existent breath.

Suspended in space and time, he had no body, no thoughts, no breath, only awareness.

What had caused him to be here, he couldn't remember. Questions filled his mind, wanting so desperately to be answered.

'I can't stand this… I'll go crazy…'

Those words weren't spoken words, nor was it purely thoughts. It was the message he felt on an ineffable level. He wanted to scream, wanted to run, hide, and never emerge again into the erratic darkness.

'Surely anything would be better than this; anything at all. Maybe, just maybe, pain would be better than all this?'

Pain…

The mere word, those four letters, somehow rendered a sleeping memory to come to light, causing a rare aurora to be renascent, awoken from its deep slumber, intertwining around his delicate sense of awareness.

And perhaps it was the strong desire coming true, the wish to feel anything at all, for anything to rise to the surface and vanquish the oblivion that pure agony etched into him.

He couldn't pinpoint the location or cause of pain, but he knew it was there. The reminiscent of the word relinquished the meaning of pain, every non-existent nerve shriveled with each exquisite ounce of the pandemonium, cascading through him like a rough waterfall.

He couldn't scream, shout, or move away, because nothing was connected to his awareness of being. There was nothing he could do but to endure the torture.

Then, something else seeped pass that oblivion, tainting it a dark crimson colour. It bleed into his view, spreading like the blood from a deep wound, intoxicating the once flawless sight of nothingness.

It wrapped around him, coaxing him in the maliciousness of a macabre. The intensity of its sensation overwhelmed him completely, and the once crimson sight became an amalgamation of black and red. Then, he felt a splitting pain residing in the oblivion. That was when he was awarded with the ability to use his voice.

He screamed; every pitch and tone mixed with agony, confusion and disgust.

And seemingly taking pity on him, the pain subsided and so did what little bit of awareness he had left, diluted and dissolved into the nothingness, and he knew no more.

Lavi opened his eyes with a sudden gasp which tore itself away from his dry throat, his breath heavy and uncontrolled. Cold sweat tingled down his pale frame that was drenched in a pool of crimson.

His clothes were torn and shredded, soaked in a pool of blood that was hardly distinguishable who it belonged to. Cuts and bruises stained his fair complexion; no doubt will they leave scars when they heal.

Within what little time that passed, he had not only noticed that he was incredulously bounded to the spot by chains on all four of his limbs, he had also, on the other hand, noticed that he was in a place where he knew nothing of.

The walls surrounding him were painted a light grey, incessantly decorated with a rose motif as soft velvet covered the floor which he was lying on. It bore no windows, the only source of light coming from three dimly lit candles idling in a corner near the wooden door.

He fidgeted, pulling hard on the chains that imprisoned him there, with no such luck of getting free, wincing a little at the pain that was corroding through his body.

Then, he remembered that senseless oblivion, that chronic womb of static grey, that…

…dream?

Was that what it was? – Nothing but a horrible nightmare?

But it seemed so…real.

If that was a dream, could this be considered one too? Was he still dreaming? Was he still having that treacherous dream?

Unable to tell reality apart from the unconscious dreamland, his mind was racing with wild thoughts, wanting so desperately to come to a right conclusion.

The things in reality follow certain laws, the ones that are imagined, however, do not. It was morbid, to say the least, of being unable to differentiate two purely unrelated things apart. Pain was a feeling that could only be felt when one was awake – or so that is said to be true.

If the aforementioned statement was somehow proven to be correct, then he was not dreaming at all, and the oblivion that irked him so was real.

And if that was true, then where exactly was that timeless dimension?

At that point, stopping his train of thought – perhaps he was thinking too much, or perhaps he was tired from the blood loss – whatever the reason, he suddenly felt light-headed. He groaned, shaking his head in a futile attempt to try and clear the giddiness away.

He whimpered, curling up into a trembling ball as far as the chain would allow, trying to wash away the pain that he was experiencing both mentally and physically.

"Lavi-kun, I did not expect you to come around so quickly," a rather feminine voice ringed, dominating the silence.

Lavi jolted up, his previously calm state vanished in a mere anarchy. He blinked at the figure before him, monumentally scared.

She stepped closer, revealing herself from the darkness. From his vista, he could see that she had disheveled blue hair – which suits her well in his opinion – and she donned a black Lolita dress, barley covering to her knees, encrusted with pins and laces.

"Who are you?"

"Your captor," she said with a smirk, sinister, he might add.

"You're an Akuma aren't you?" he sneered.

She was seemingly surprised at first, then the shocked expression melted away into a smirk, a giggle escaping past her rosy lips, "Oh dear, of course not." She replied with a hint of excitement in her voice. "I'm mortal, no doubt."

"Mortal?" he echoed, "And you expect me to believe you after you've admitted that you're my captor?"

"Pathetic, the humans of your kind are so, so pathetic," she leaned forward, looking him in the eye.

"So you're saying that you're different from us?" he carefully deduced, "But you're still a mortal?"

"Of course I'm different from your kind, you mere mortals are pathetic, useless, an abomination to the human race. However, we are the mortals chosen by Noah himself, chosen by God to rule this land. You are merely a disgrace to us, we are greater than you, and we are more powerful in any way possible. We are the Clan of Noah," she finished with a sickening grin plastered on her features. With a wave of her hand, one of the candles danced towards her, stopping beside her palm.

Smirking, she held the candle daintily, seeing the tip of the candle transforming itself into a sharp blade. "Now, enough about me, how about you, exorcist – where are your comrades now? And more importantly, where is your Innocence?"

"I work alone," Lavi spat, "And weren't you the one who took my weapon away?" He glared, stomach churning at the blade she held so delicately in her hands. It looked like it could kill, to say the least, and he'd enough pain for one day.

"You work alone? You're not deceiving me. I know all about that blue haired exorcist whom you always hang out with. And for the record, I did not take your weapon. Didn't you have it with you?" She flicked her wrist, and the candle-like blade plunged itself into Lavi's shoulder, an inhuman cry resonated between the four walls.

Tears found its way down his pale cheeks, ridding the old blood stains that clamped itself there. Fresh blood emerged from the deep wound on his shoulder, flowing down the torn fabric that could no longer be considered as his uniform. It scooted downwards, staining the velvet carpeting as well.

"…Yuu?" Lavi grimaced, "He's anything but my ally!" He growled, tears stinging his eyes even more.

For a second, she looked surprised, "Something must have had happened between both of you then? I wonder…what exactly--"

"Shut up! Nothing, nothing happened! I hate him, and he hates me too, nothing has changed."

…but was it really nothing?

"May I remind you that you are in no position to be talking back like that?" She seemed to ponder for a minute, "…The results maybe…terrifying." She flicked her hand once more, and another candle appeared beside her palm. "Now, mind telling me where your Innocence is?"

"I don't know where it is!" he hollered, backing away from the candle.

"Well then I'll just have to make you remember…"