I do not own the characters, they belong to Katsura Hoshino. Song lyrics "For You" belong to the band Barenaked Ladies.
This was done as a paper for class, and managed to earn an A. As such it has been read and re-read numerous times, but if a spelling or grammar error managed to slip through I'll be happy to change it. This fic was originally posted on my Luna account (Theosphir).

And for every useless reason I know

There's a reason not to care

If i hide myself wherever i go

Am i ever really there?

-"For You", BNL

For You

The train car rattled softly as it raced down the dark tracks, heading full speed but not fast enough towards London. Though relatively smooth, the occasional bump on the ride caused the kerosene lights above to sway and flicker, throwing shadows about the private car and scattering them like phantom cockroaches in the corners. Dark, tall trees whipped by on either side, their towering silhouettes barely visible against the night sky. On one side of the car, towards the window, sat a young Asian man with long black hair, asleep sitting up with his hands in his lap. Sprawled across the red bench upholstery beside him was a younger male, white-haired with a strange looking scar on the left side of his face. His head rested comfortably on the other man's shoulder. The only noise in the car beside the tick thunk of the tracks was the light snores escaping the white one's mouth.
Lavi let a sigh escape him as he stared at the book in his hands; its worn, yellowed pages bare before him. He flicked the quill in his left hand in irritation. He could not, for the life of him, figure out what he wanted to write. It wasn't like this was his bookman log or anything, though. He'd finished logging away the results of his group's mission hours ago, back at the checkpoint in Dublin. No, this was his personal journal, his only (or supposed to be only) semblance of conscience, his therapy so to speak in dealing with a job where he was not allowed to be attached to anyone. His journal was personal; no other bookman would see it, but that wasn't what worried him. He would see it. And once the ink flowed from his quill to the paper, he would have no choice but to acknowledge it.

He swallowed a rock and turned to look beside him at the source of his despair. Lenalee was cuddled up to his side on their end of the car, using his shoulder as a pillow much the same way Allen was using Kanda across from them. He couldn't stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks as he stared at her sleeping face, the most peaceful thing he had ever seen. She was beautiful, she really was. She was pale despite her Chinese heritage, something that Lavi had always found intriguing. Her skin was flawless with the exception of a few small battle scars, most of which were hidden by her uniform, but in the dim light of the car he could make out a few on her bare legs, just barely there. Her soft black hair had grown down to her shoulders now, and Lavi cringed when he was reminded of the battle that had singed it off, and nearly taken her life. He'd known her for three years now, and he still got butterflies whenever she looked at him with those big brown eyes.

If he had to pick one thing he loved most about her though, it would be her personality. Corny, yes, but there was something about the way she could pretend to be so innocent that just thrilled him. She wasn't. That girl had a dark streak to match his own, and really it was a miracle that between the two of them Kanda hadn't been teased, pranked, and tortured to death by now. She could be a bookman herself with how easily she could play the others into believing she wouldn't hurt a fly. For some reason, that made his blood burn.

He ran a partially gloved hand through his messy red hair and sighed again. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He was a bookman; He was supposed to be cold, unbiased, unattached. A silent observer. He wasn't supposed to be falling in love. That fact wasn't what scared him the most, though. What scared him was that he was really considering giving up.

And who would stop him? If he left now, gave up the fifteen years or so of his life he'd spent training, studying, and stayed here? It had been his dream after all, not the clan's. They hadn't sought him out for any special reasons. He was no prodigy. He had wanted to become a bookman. Wanted. Had wanted. Did he still want that? The heavy feeling in his gut begged to differ.

Shaking his head, Lavi carefully stood in the small car, boots digging into the tacky green carpet. 'Whoever designed this train should have their head examined', he thought bitterly. It looked like Christmas blew up. As carefully as he could, Lavi picked up his leather pack from the floor and placed it on the bench where he had been sitting, guiding the sleeping girl onto it in his place and sighing in relief when she didn't awaken. He'd been sighing a lot today. He needed some fresh air. Placing his journal and quill next to his pack on the bench, he inched the sliding door of their compartment open just enough to squeeze out into the hall.

He nearly tripped over Link, who had been sleeping with his back to the door. Apparently the long train ride had worn him out as well. Stepping over the sleeping CROW agent, the redhead made his way down the hall to the back of the train car. For a moment, one of the attendants seemed to want to say something to him, but one look at the Rose Cross on his black uniform and she simply turned away.

The cool air felt good on Lavi's face as he stepped out onto the metal platform at the back of the car. It was darker outside than he had initially thought, but the warm glow of the lantern on the door combined with the starlight above was comforting. He leaned against the chilly steel railing, watching the shadows of the trees go by, trying desperately to collect his thoughts.

He loved her. There was no question about that. But he also loved being a bookman. History was like his internal organs—he wasn't sure that he could live without it. Could he live without her? He didn't think so. The past few months had proved that. And while he was allowed by the clan's rules to have a physical relationship with her, caring for her… caring for anyone was forbidden. Ink on paper. That was all she was supposed to be. Just an event in a time in a place in a war. He growled in frustration, leaning on the rail with his head in his hands. She was so much more than that.

"The stars are pretty tonight"

Lenalee's voice startled him as the female exorcist leaned on the railing beside him, looking up at the sky. He hadn't even heard her come out. Regaining his composure, he smiled slyly, and turned to her.

"I wasn't even gone five minutes," he teased smoothly, the junior bookman instantly putting back on the persona of "Lavi". He saw the same smirk appear on her face, mischief gleaming in her eyes, and suddenly his heart was pounding in his ears.

"I know. I missed you," she teased back, laying her head on his shoulder but staying close enough away that the rest of her wasn't touching him. She reminded him of cat—they want you to pet them, but they're going to pretend their content scratching their cheek on the corner just a few feet away. "You make a good pillow"

"I don't recall volunteering to be 'group pillow'."

"Oh?" She pulled away from him, a look of mock surprise on her face. "I thought you 'Loved the way it felt when I leaned against you' and 'wished you could just hold me forever.'"

Lavi's smile dropped faster than an atomic bomb on a foreign communist country as she waved his journal coyly in front of his face. In a sort of delayed reaction, his face lit up bright pink, and he tried frantically to snatch it back from her.

"Hey!"

"Relax," She laughed, placing the small book in the pocket of his uniform coat and leaning back against him, fully this time. "I don't mind."

Lavi wasn't an idiot. He knew very well that Lenalee had feelings for him as well. As a bookman, he noticed everything, including the way she flirted back with him when he was keeping up his persona, and the way she looked at him—trusting, lovingly—when he wasn't. He had never worried much that his affections wouldn't be returned, and he had reason to believe that she didn't either. His concern was mostly in the fact that he wasn't allowed to be feeling these affections in the first place. He moved slightly so that he was behind her, and slid his arms around her waist, dropping his head onto her shoulder the way he often did when he was tired.

This was natural, he reasoned with himself. It was perfectly normal for him to be attracted to her, especially given their ages. He couldn't blame himself for it. The need for a relationship beyond instinctive needs was, after all, the final stage of psychosexual development. Surely other bookman had gone though the same thing. A hazard of the job. They all must have faltered once or twice, right? It couldn't be just him. He had a sinking feeling the Panda would still kill him for it though. If Lenalee's psychotic brother didn't first.

Lenalee's playful mood seemed to fade as she realized Lavi was troubled by something. Without him ever saying a word about it, she had a good feeling what. Somehow, they could just read each other that way. She pressed herself back into him, leaning into his hold, and tilted her head up to nuzzle under his chin. The proximity, the intimacy, didn't bother her in the slightest. She and Lavi had always been abnormally close. They walked close, sat close (sometimes to the point where their knees touched), and had a tendency to lean on one another when they were tired. It had been like that since they first met. After spending almost her entire life at the Order, Lavi was the only guy, other than her brother and Allen (who had yet to hit puberty) that she would allow to touch her. Or kiss her, for that matter, among other things.

"You know Komui can't do anything about us," she whispered, though she didn't know why. No one was around to hear them. She swallowed hard, not really sure how to begin this conversation with him. Lavi opened his one green eye and lifted his head.

"Yeah, I know," he answered softly, trying to focus his gaze on the dark forest going by. Of course he knew. He knew too well. By the countries' laws Lenalee was an adult now, and that fact had been tempting him to say the least. Their aforementioned maturity and her short uniform skirt weren't helping him there either. He immediately forced the thought from his mind, feeling guilty for thinking of her in such a way. She was more to him than that. Even though she shouldn't be.

"Sometimes I hate being a bookman," he confessed suddenly, surprising even himself. She blinked up at him, then followed his haunted gaze out to the trees. Somewhere in the darkness, an owl hooted its war cry, and if she listened hard Lenalee swore she could hear a mouse scream.

"Why should it matter if you're a bookman," she replied, though she knew fully well what he meant. He was silent for a moment more, before he shivered and buried his nose in her hair, a gesture she had come to learn meant he was upset or scared.

"One day I'll be gone, and everyone will just forget about me." He said firmly, but she could hear the tremors in his voice. She was reminded briefly of how he never showed his true emotions with anyone else, just her. She was the only one he could trust. "I'll leave and it will be like I was never even here."

"Lavi," she sighed sadly, letting the rest of her sentence hang unspoken between them. He didn't need to hear it. He knew. I'll be dead by the time you leave. It doesn't matter, because I'm the only one who will remember you, and I won't be around when you go. Lavi knew she was right; One day, an enemy would get lucky and she would go down, though he would be dammed if he didn't go down fighting as well. He'd face the Millennium Earl with his bare hands if he took Lenalee from him. So really, what did it matter if he loved her while he could? No one would find out. But doing so meant he would have to accept that as her fate…

Before he could say anything else, she twisted in his arms and pulled his headband off in one swift motion, causing the spikes of wild red hair to tumble down into his eyes. Doing her best to bring back the playful mood from earlier, she brushed it out of his good eye and smiled. For years of analyzing and recording people, there were still some occasions were Lenalee left Lavi completely baffled.

"You should wear your hair down more often," she giggled, noting his perplexed and somewhat stunned expression. "It's cute."

"You really think so?" he asked, amused, and pulled her closer to him, knocking his now headband-less forehead gently into hers. He knew she was trying to cheer him up. It amazed him how they could have such a serious discussion with less than fifty words, then flop back over to playful banter without ever once misunderstanding each other. Maybe they should be the ones CROW was investigating instead of Allen.

He watched her for a reaction, his single green eye looking into twin pools of brown. She was watching him, he noted, scanning his face, a coy half-smirk on her lips as she deciphered his mood. She really would make a great bookman. She was so good at reading people.

He kissed her. He probably shouldn't have, but he really didn't care anymore. Not at the moment. Besides, it wasn't the first time and hopefully wasn't the last, nor was it the worst of things they'd done. "Lavi" never paid much attention to rules anyway. He felt her arms slide around his neck as she kissed back, and he stepped back to lean against the cool wall of the train, his hands moving from her waist to the backs of her thighs. She took the hint, and jumped lightly so he was holding her, because otherwise, with the near six inches between them Lavi would have to stoop. He didn't mind; It amazed him just how light Lenalee was. She must have been a bird or something in a past life. Her fingers threaded through his hair and the lantern above the door swayed as the train hit a slight bump, leaving them momentarily in the dark.

"Your brother will kill me," he said finally, pulling away from her as the lantern stopped shaking. An excuse, but she would let it slide. She laid her head on his chest and laughed softly, trying to catch her breath.

"He won't kill you," she reassured him. "I'd never speak to him again if he did."

It was quiet for a while after that, the two of them watching the stars and enjoying each others company as they waited for their hearts to stop pounding in the cool night. He set her back down after a while, but she didn't leave his embrace, partly out of comfort, partly because it was chilly and Lavi was nice and warm. Not Lavi, she reminded herself, because the man she was with right now was not the hyper-active persona he put on for his job. This was… she wasn't sure really. He didn't need a name.

"We should head back inside," he said finally. "Yuu's gonna blow a gasket if he wakes up and finds the bean sprout being all cuddly with him."

"And you wouldn't want to miss that now, would you?" She said sarcastically, but he caught the laughter in her tone as she rolled her eyes. He pulled open the heavy door to the train car and bowed flamboyantly, obviously reverting back to 'Lavi' mode once again.

"Not for the world!"

She forced herself to be quiet as she walked back inside the car, Lavi following close behind her. The attendant who had almost stopped him when he left gave them a suspicious look, which he attributed to his disheveled hair and scarf once he saw his reflection in the window. Just for fun, he gave the woman a suggestive smirk as he disappeared into their cabin.

Allen had been busy since they were gone, he noticed as he stepped inside. The young exorcist had wiggled his way into the samurai's lap, turned sideways so his feet could rest on the bench, and had his face buried in Kanda's neck. Thankfully, his mouth was shut now and he was no longer drooling. It was actually kind of cute, if not for the fact that the second Kanda woke up he was likely doomed. Someone had blown out a section of the lantern lights, and now instead of being just dim their car was almost black. Allen's snores had ceased, leaving only the lull of the tracks in the quiet room.

Lavi picked up his pack from the seat and placed it back on the floor before looking over his shoulder at Lenalee. She made a gesture to him, and he nodded, and it was all they needed to decide on arrangements for the night. They wouldn't reach London til morning. They may as well get some sleep.

He sat down first on the bench, then put his boots up and laid down on his back. He didn't quite fit-curse his freakishly tall genetics—so he ended up with his back propped by one wall and his knees bent slightly. He held out his hands to Lenalee to help her up, and she laid down on her side over him, using him like living mattress. He wished he could say this was abnormal, but it wasn't. He'd had far too much experience in foxholes to be concerned with any sort of close sleeping positions. Probably, he realized, the same reason Kanda hadn't awoken when Allen crawled onto him. She whispered goodnight to him, and he whispered it back, slightly regretting that he hadn't chosen to face the window. He waited until her breathing slowed down and evened out to retrieve his journal from his pocket.

The lack of light wasn't a challenge for the junior bookman as he scribbled down his final thoughts for the day. He'd spent a lot of time training to write in all sorts of situations, and with his eye patch off and both eyes to focus with, he found it to be no trouble at all. It didn't matter how much he argued with himself about it, he finally decided, his quill scratching familiarly on the parchment. Even if he wasn't supposed to feel, he did. And it wouldn't matter anyways. He wouldn't be leaving. He wouldn't have to give up being a bookman. Because Lenalee was right. By the time he had to leave, she would be dead. And when she died, so would he.