Another fandom... I'm never going to get around to finishing Alphabet, am I?
Anyway, thanks for clicking. As you can probably tell, I'm not really supposed to be writing for this fandom, but being an author, I can't really help the ideas that my brain turns out, and when I happen to find them fairly decent, they tend to end up in a Word document and then maybe posted here.
(Insert casual transition of your choice here), this first chapter is just a little bit of an introduction to my current crusade, attempting to amend the views of those critics who are of the opinion that all stories containing OCs are automatically crap. Wish me luck, and please fuel the fire of the cause by leaving many reviews containing constructive criticism and mayhaps even a bit of praise.
I own nothing of D. Gray Man besides crappily translated versions of the first two tankobon.
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Long after the funeral ended, a single form still blocked the tombstone from the Earl's view. His ever present grin widened. This was a good one.
The soul the pitiful broker had given away was Jessica Evans, a young single mother, condemned by the small village she lived in for having a child out of wedlock. Although she had no resentment toward her daughter, Jessica was quickly dying of tuberculosis, the broker had said only several days ago. The child, who had no friends in the town but was still the happiest girl you could find when Jessica was well, would surely jump at a chance to bring her mother back. An Akuma like Jessica would quickly progress to a Level 2, with all that hate for the village for isolating it in life, and hate for the world by extension. Those were the Earl's favorite.
"What a horrible thing," he said with false sympathy as he came upon the girl. She jumped at the sound and pivoted on her knees to face him. She was about twelve years old, he would guess, although small in stature like her mother, so it was difficult to tell. He noticed a small cross in her hands. They were Christian. A small hindrance, no more. Perhaps it could even be turned on her. "It must be a cruel God that allows tragedy like this in his world, wouldn't you say?"
The girl hid her eyes and squeezed the cross. Though she would not admit it, she had been thinking about the same thing. But still… "I… I must believe that He will not abandon me… that He will help me through this most trying time, sir."
A text book reply, thought the Earl. Coddling her a bit (after all, flattery got you everywhere), he said, "Such a patient child, to be willing to wait for a God who will bring you nothing but suffering. I, however, can help you now." He stepped aside and showed her the Akuma creating skeleton. "This artificial body can bring back your mother to you. All it requires is for you to call to her from the bottom of your heart."
He glanced at her face for the look of hope he'd seen a million times if he'd seen it once, the gratitude of being promised their loved one back from the dead. It was strangely absent. Puzzling.
The girl's heart had nearly stopped with excitement when she'd first heard him, but in the same instant she remembered all the Sunday school lessons, the morals that lied beneath them all. "Th-That is forbidden. My mother's death… that is God's will. To try and break it… I can't believe that would come without a price." She sniffed, and choked on her next words. "I'm sorry, Mother. I can't do it. I just can't. I miss you so much already, but I can't. You'd want to be brought back, wouldn't you?"
She wrestled with herself, trying to find the answer her beloved mother and her God could agree upon. She continued crying when it finally came.
"I am not a witch. I will not make a contract with the devil." She continued to ramble on, more to herself, to assure her that she was doing what was righteous. "He always comes like this, sympathetic, in your time of need, to turn you. I will not betray God. I love God. I love Him, I love Him, I love God…" she repeated, sobbing all the while.
The Earl sighed. So that pesky religion fueled this girl's iron will. Nuts like her were so troublesome. If only he'd know she was a devout before he'd shown her the skeleton… no matter.
He closed Lero and lifted the umbrella above his head. With such a weak girl, there was no need to turn it into an actual weapon; she was dying already. A small head wound would be enough to kill her.
"Die," he said, still smiling, as he brought Lero down.
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"Master... Master!"
"What is it?"
"Look!" A young boy no older than eleven approached the outdoor seating of the bar/restaurant with a girl about his age cradled in his arms. Blood ran freely down her face and chin, partially and clumsily stemmed with a handkerchief. "She was in the cemetery!"
"So why is it she's here now, idiot aprentice?" The boy's face, which had been almost excited at his discovery, fell and slowly took on a look of terror. "It wouldn't be because you went into the cemetery when I explicitly told you to stay on this street and out of trouble, would it?" The man slammed his glass down on the table and a spider web of cracks spread from the bottom.
Allen Walker nearly dropped the girl in the process of raising his hands above his head to shield the two of them from Cross Marian's wrath. Words tumbled out in long bursts as he tried to explain. "I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! I thought I saw the Millennium Earl there, so I went to look and there was a girl and she was bleeding and I thought I had to help her and I tried to stop the bleeding and I thought I should bring her here! Don't kill me, Master! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't kill me, I'm sorry…"
At this new piece of information, Cross raised his visible eyebrow in what Allen hoped was interest. "Is she alive?"
"Yes," Allen said. He was still shielding himself, just in case.
"Is she an Akuma?"
"No. Not an Akuma."
"Let's take a look them."
Allen finally lowered his arms with relief. He wasn't going to die today. Probably.
Slowly, Cross left his chair and examined her. She could have been pretty if not for the thinness of her face, and the bloodstains that ran down her face and through her light brown, braided hair. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about her, but the fact that Allen had seen the Millennium Earl enter the otherwise empty graveyard meant…
"Two children to have survived an encounter with the Earl in less than a year," he said quietly. "I must be very lucky." He then proceeded to shake her roughly.
"Master! Stop that! You're going to hurt her! See!" Allen shouted as small droplets of blood from the head wound scattered around them.
"Please. That didn't hurt her. She's unconscious."
"No she's not! Not anymore!" True enough, she was stirring slightly and opening her eyes.
"Then it worked."
He put his hand on her head and tilted it so she looked at him. She looked confused and dizzy with unfocused eyes. "What is your name, child?"
"My… name...?" she asked as though in a trance. "What's that?"
Cross sighed. Amnesia. Still, he said, "What you're called. When people speak to you, what do they call you?"
"I… I don't know… why don't I know?" Her chest heaved in panic and tears started pouring down her face as she realized she was unable to answer the simplest of questions. "Why don't I know?"
"Master… she hit her head…" Allen started to say. It took him a moment to continue over the lump forming in his throat. To not remember anything, he thought. To not remember Mana… "Maybe… maybe it's just temporary."
"Perhaps…" He paused. "Stop crying, girl." She nodded and hugged her knees. "Do we have any clues, idiot apprentice?"
"Well… she was by a grave that said Jessica Evans. If the Earl came, then he probably asked her if she wanted to bring her back… but I don't know."
"Fine, we'll start with that." He looked at the girl tears still wet one her cheeks. "Did you know someone named Jessica Evans? Was she your mother?"
She stared at the ground and blinked remnant tears from her eyes, racking her brain. "Mother…a mother…I think I know that word… but… I don't have a mother…"
Cross said almost to himself, "Not anymore you don't." Then after a brief pause, he snapped, "Allen!"
The boy jumped and asked warily, "What…?" He knew that tone…
"What's a common name? Anything you can think of. Hurry up!" he said when the response didn't come right away.
"Uh….uh…uh… Grace! Grace!"
"All right. Did you hear that, girl? That's your name now. Grace Evans."
Grace just stared at him, puzzled.
Allen's face fell. "Master, if you'd told me that was going to be her name I wouldn't have picked something like "Grace". It's too plain…"
"Idiot apprentice. We want her name to be plain. She's coming with us. We'll drop her with a church somewhere."
"Really?" This time it came not from Allen, but Grace. Her face was suddenly lit up and excited. The sudden swing of emotion reminded Allen of an angry toddler who'd just been given candy. "That'll be fun, right? Going… where? Where are we going? What church?"
"Good question…"
Allen laughed nervously and scratched his head with his gloved hand. "Master doesn't know where he's going very often. But it always turns out to be some horrible…"
"What was that, Allen?"
"Nothing! Nothing…"
"Let's go," Cross said shortly. He stood up, and Allen automatically followed. Grace, doing her best to fit in, stood too, a little too fast.
"Master… Master!" Allen called to Cross, who was already halfway down the street. He could move when he wanted to. Cross turned to look at his apprentice as he supported Grace. "She fainted!"
Perhaps that girl was going to be more trouble than she was worth, even for only a few days… Cross glanced at Timcanpy as the golem hovered around his head. "Let's see… Allen, you carry her."
"Wha…!" He stopped before it could even become a proper protest. At least his master wasn't abandoning her now that she was unconscious… more than he could say regarding himself.
She was surprisingly light, even considering her small stature. Despite his year of rigorous self training, Allen had expected to have at least a little bit of difficulty carrying her. "So easy…" he commented to himself.
Needless to say, after several hours of walking, when Cross was finally satisfied with the distance they'd covered, Allen's arms were limp at his sides as he swore, "Never again!"