A/N: Heya! *smile* So there's like a 50/50 chance you've seen this already, but basically, I've started crossposting some of my AO3-only stories. More on that later, if you care at all.

Title: Crimson Walkways

Author: liketolaugh

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Genre: Drama/Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: The Order's general pre-Komui bastardliness and all that entails, mostly abuse of children

Summary: Red was seven years old when he was dragged to the Order.

Disclaimer: Like hell I own D. Gray-man.

Red had been at the Black Order for a week when he met Lenalee.

That week was… kind of a blur, honestly. He was exhausted and sore all over, and no one had noticed the welts on his back or the fact that his wrist hurt like hell until just the day before, or, for that matter, the fact that he wasn't really eating. They were too busy 'training' him, aka beating him to the edge of collapse over and over and over-

He didn't know what these people wanted from him. They'd explained, sort of, but he didn't get it. What the fuck, 'reason for living'. Red had no reason for living. That kind of defined his existence.

He'd collapsed finally, the day before, and he was in the infirmary now – or at least, it looked like an infirmary. His wrist was bandaged up, which was sort of a surprise, and they'd put him on his stomach. His head still felt stuffed full of cotton, and he was so damn hungry, but he didn't feel so exhausted that he would actually collapse anymore.

"Who are you?"

The soft voice made him start so hard that he sat up, eyes going wide. He nearly fell over the opposite side of the bed before a hand closed around his wrist, and he jerked his hand out of that one, panic rising in his chest so that it was a moment before he realized that he was steady and there was a little girl standing beside his bed, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry," the girl squeaked, drawing back, looking worried. "I just-"

"What the fuck do you want?" Red croaked, edging back regardless of the fact that she looked barely older than she was. He tucked his injured wrist protectively against himself and scowled at her, so rigid he was shaking.

"I just…" the girl repeated, eyes dropping slightly. And then she lifted them again, crossing her arms, and met his gaze evenly, no matter that she, too, was shaking slightly. "I don't recognize you. Did they drag you here, too?"

Red stared at her for a moment, and scooted actually off the bed. He stumbled slightly when his feet made contact, legs still shaky from exertion, but it let him back up a little more.

"Fuck off," he muttered, trying to will his voice steady. Louder, "Fuck off!"

"I'm sorry!" yelped the girl, and thank God, she took another step back. But she didn't leave. "I just- you looked hurt, and you look even younger than me, and I thought maybe-"

"Go away," Red snapped, but even he knew that was weak. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "What do you want?"

The girl swallowed, and even from here he could see that she was close to tears.

"I- I'm Lenalee." She took a step forward, hand outstretched, and he took a step back to match, eyes fixing on her hand. She drew it back sharply and looked down, eyes glimmering, but still didn't. Fucking. Leave. "I just got back from a mission, and I saw you-"

Her legs were all scraped up, he noted distantly, and she looked tired.

"And I thought we could be friends," she continued in a small voice. "Because I thought… maybe we both got taken here. Even though we didn't want to."

"I don't believe you," Red snapped, and she flinched. "Fuck off."

"Please?" Her voice trembled. He looked at her.

She looked like a stiff breeze would blow her over. But at the moment, he probably wasn't so tough, either. He felt like shit. Forget what the cat dragged in – the cat had dragged him in, thrown him around, and then dumped him in a puddle to rot for a while once it got bored.

He let his legs fold under him, and she yelped and lunged as if to catch him, which made him flinch away before she stopped, a foot or so away.

"I don't have a name," he said at last, sitting up with his legs haphazard beneath him while she fucking stared at him. "Call me whatever you like."

Cautiously, looking ridiculously hopeful, Lenalee lowered herself to the ground as well, and involuntarily, he relaxed a little.

"What do you want me to call you?" she pressed.

Red didn't give a shit, honestly. Whatever this slip of a girl could come up with probably wouldn't be half as bad as things strangers on the street tended to call him. "Call me Red, I guess."

She smiled shyly. "Okay, Red. I'm Lenalee."

She held out her hand again, and he frowned at it. It wasn't that he didn't know what he was supposed to do with it, obviously, he wasn't stupid, but people didn't like touching him. They didn't. And his arm was in full fucking view, but she wasn't even looking at it.

He didn't know what was going on, and he hated it.

After a moment, her smile faded and she dropped her hand, but pushed, "How did you get here?"

He pushed himself so his back was to the opposite, unoccupied bed, eyes carefully on her, and answered, "I don't know. A couple guys in jackets found me at the circus where I work, and they looked at my arm for a bit-" Which had required wrestling him down, because fuck that. "And then they tried to get me to go with them, and since I wouldn't, they knocked me out and fucking brought me here anyway."

He was pissed. He was unbelievably pissed. But he was more tired.

He was fucking tired of these things happening.

"I don't remember how I got here," she told him in a soft voice, like the animal trainer might use on an injured monkey. "But I didn't want to come, either."

"Fucking fantastic," he snapped, and jerked, and hissed as he bumped his wrist against something. His voice rose angrily. "What the fuck is going on?"

"They said your arm is Innocence, right?" Lenalee asked him, scooting forward until he snarled at her, and she scooted back again. He nodded reluctantly. "Did they take you to Hevlaska already?" Nod. "What's your synchro?"

"…Seven percent," he said reluctantly. "They want me to 'activate', or whatever, because it's my 'reason for existing'." Under his breath, "Fuck 'em."

"They want you to fight," Lenalee explained, looking sadder by the moment, though not like she was going to cry anymore. "There's a war going on, see, and they say that it's our job to win. They say we have to save everyone." Very quietly, looking downcast and frightened and ashamed, she added, "I don't want to."

"That makes two of us," Red muttered.

That's it! *beam* Red is honestly the best, so it's a wonder I didn't come out with a Red-centric story before this. But yeah, that's basically what this is. (And no, he won't ever progress to the Allen stage.) By the way, I didn't cross-post before because I didn't want to post without committing to a schedule, but just recently I decided that it'd be fine if I sorted into ones I would update on a schedule and ones I wouldn't, so I'm going ahead and doing it now. I'm staggering them so that I don't flood all of the chapters on at once though - I just want the first ones all on the same day, and the rest'll be drawn out a bit. Thanks for reading, and please review!