In 2009 I discovered Red vs. Blue and became captivated by the story of Tex. I related to her origins and her struggles, and considering her story brought me again and again to the choices and actions of the original Leonard Church. Though I set out to write Tex's story, what I began writing when season 8 premiered on April 1, 2010 turned into a biography for him, as well as Allison. I published it under the title White Knight.

In 2012, new revelations were made about the life of Leonard Church with the finale of season 10. I struggled for some time with what to do with the new information, but eventually decided I needed to update the fic to align with canon. The result is what you see here.

This version of my fic would not be possible without the hard work and invaluable input from my beta, anneapocalypse (which is her username on both tumblr and archiveofourown). Do check out her writing, as it's top-notch.

Warnings include:

- Mentions of rape and child abuse. Neither situation is explicitly depicted.

- A detailed but not graphic depiction of childbirth

- Suicidal ideation

- Drug use and smoking

- Alcohol abuse

- Mental illness

If you have questions about any of these warnings, please feel free to message me here or on my tumblr, texelations, and I will answer them to the best of my ability.


Part I: White Knight

"Leonard, come on. Get out and give me a hand, please."

Leonard looked at his father through the open window of the moving van before dragging his hand over to the door handle. He'd been sitting there ever since they'd arrived, when they had backed into the driveway. He didn't want to be here.

He slowly got out of the truck and stretched, arching his back slightly, staring without emotion at the houses that lined the street. The occasional broken window, maybe a tarp for a patch on someone's roof, even the lack of many flowers that weren't weeds in people's yards, showed that it wasn't in the nicest area of town. Things hadn't been much different back home in Atlanta, but he didn't appreciate being uprooted like this, even if his father had waited to arrange the move for after summer break had started. According to his father it was going to be a new beginning, new town, new life; new school, now that he was going to be starting high school. But he didn't want any part of it.

He went to the back of the truck, sighed heavily, and picked up the first box he came to. "Where do I put this, Dad?"

"Whatever room it's labeled for." His father approached and checked the grease-pencil scrawl on the side. "It's your stuff. Put it in the back bedroom."

He headed into the house, listening to his feet treading on the floorboards. It was different living in a house—in Atlanta they'd living in an attached condo, in a busier neighborhood. He set the box down in the far corner when he reached his bedroom and went over to the window to gaze out of it blankly. It was kind of cool that there was a backyard here. Not that that made being here any better.

On his fourth trip he heard a sound as he walked down the hall to his room—a scrape, and then a thump. What was that? He sped up a bit, then stopped at the doorway.

Someone was climbing through the window.

It was teenage girl. She was halfway through, pushing herself over the sill. Her blonde hair hung like a curtain as she struggled, blocking her view of him. She didn't spot him until she came to a standing position. Her blue eyes went wide and she pushed her hair back from her face. He was shocked, remaining where he stood, not reacting, merely staring at her.

She glanced back at the window, then trained her gaze on him with a frown. "Who are you?"

He scoffed, shifting the box he'd been carrying to angle himself toward her slightly. "Who am I? What are you doing in my bedroom?"

She crossed her arms. "Hey, shut up. This house was vacant last I knew."

He rolled his eyes. "How'd you miss the moving truck in the driveway?" He set the box aside, dropping it more than anything else, as he placed it on the floor. "Nice way to introduce yourself to the new neighbors, by the way."

"I'll introduce myself any way I want to." She was clearly over the shock of finding someone inside the house now. "Now when I want to avoid spending time at home I'll have to go somewhere else. Thanks a lot."

"Don't blame me," he said. "Now are you planning to leave, or do I need to make you help me with moving in?"

"Can't make me do anything, jackass." She pushed her hair back off her forehead and looked at him more closely. "I'm Allison, by the way."

"Leonard," he replied, a bit begrudgingly. "Don't think you can get on my good side just 'cause you decided to be all friendly all of a sudden."

"Whatever." She turned around and hopped back out the window.

He went over to it to try to spot her, then turned to head back out to the truck. She was already gone. This had been the first thing about this neighborhood that had made him just a little bit curious, and he glanced around when he returned to the truck to see if maybe she had come around the house to the street.

"What is it?" his dad asked, spotting his son from the loading bay of the truck.

Leonard looked at his dad. "Oh…nothing." He gave one more glance up and down the street before he reluctantly returned to doing the work of moving in.

It wasn't until two days later that he saw her again. It turned out that she lived across the street. She exited her house as he was shooting baskets into the decrepit rim that was attached to the front of the carport. Light-footed, she ran over, crossed the drive behind him, scooped up the ball mid-dribble and took a three-point shot. He gave her a look and chased after the ball. It bounced out of his grasp and she got a hold of it once again.

"Too slow!" she taunted. "You need to do better than that!"

He was used to only needing his height advantage to compete against others his age, but he found she was right. She was too nimble for him to keep up with her. But he couldn't let her think he was going to roll over and let her win. "You're so slow it looks like you're going backwards," he taunted back.

She laughed harder at his remark, proving him wrong by immediately stealing the ball again. Now he was determined—he was going to get that ball before her, one way or another.

They played ball until the sun got to be high in the sky and they were both covered in sweat. "Hey," he finally panted. "Hey, it's time for a break. Let's get something to drink."

"You just want to stop because you're losing," she teased.

"I'm not losing," he scoffed. "I've just been distracted 'cause of the sun."

She laughed. "That doesn't mean you're not losing."

He rolled his eyes. "You want a drink or what?"

"I don't need you to give me a drink."

But she willingly followed him into the house, accepting the cup of water he offered her. She gulped it down before they headed back out.

"Where are you from, anyway?" she asked later on, watching him stumble as he tried and failed to learn a new trick on his skateboard.

He glanced over at her before returning his attention to not falling and cracking his head open. "What?"

"Your accent. Where are you from?"

Home. That was the answer he wanted to give. As fun as it was getting to know her, and as much as he preferred the weather here, it still wasn't home. "You're the one with an accent, idiot," he said instead.

She rolled her eyes. "You're such an ass, Leonard."

He started to roll past her. She stuck her foot out to shove at his skateboard. He lost his balance, wavering in one direction before falling in the other. She took that opening, grabbing the skateboard and pushing off after she got her foot on it.

"Bitch!" He nearly ran after her, but instead he stood up, checked his hands for scrapes, and watched her. She was better than him. He hated that he was already getting used to that.

"The hell are you looking at?" she taunted as she returned. She flipped the skateboard up and held it.

"Nothin'," he said, a little too quickly. She gave him a dead-eyed stare. "Nothing," he insisted.

She grinned, but she also shook her head and dropped his skateboard so it could roll over to him and hit him in the ankle. "You really are an idiot, Leonard."

It was dusk then, and he wasn't surprised when she followed him inside. "Wanna watch something?" he asked, going over and touching the computer terminal in the wall. Even in a neighborhood like this the screens were standard in every home, though quite a bit smaller.

She approached the terminal so she could look at the choices. "Only if you let me pick."

"It's my house," he said.

"I'm the guest." She elbowed in beside him and made a selection. Already, he'd gotten used to letting her have her way about things; he shoved against her arm but didn't protest further.

His father arrived not long after they'd settled on the couch and he smiled at the two as he entered. "Hello there," he said.

"Oh, hi Dad." Leonard looked at the girl who sat beside him. "This is Allison. She lives across the street."

"Hi, Allison. I'm Lawrence." It was easy to see the resemblance between father and son. With his narrow jaw and green eyes, Lawrence Church looked like an older version of his son, but with sandy blond hair rather than Leonard's black hair. He set his briefcase down and headed toward the kitchen, still in his shirt and tie. "Are you two hungry?"

"Yeah." Leonard looked at Allison. "How about you, you hungry?"

"Yeah." She was sunken into the couch, and she flexed to sit up a little higher.

Lawrence paused in the doorway to the kitchen. "Do you need to let your parents know where you are?"

"Oh," she said dismissively. "Nobody cares what time I get in."

"You might be surprised," Lawrence said.

She snorted. "No, I wouldn't. They don't even miss me if I stay out all night."

Leonard looked over at her. He secretly thought that was kind of cool. She could stay out all night if she felt like it and not get into trouble. He wasn't going to say that, though. "For real?" he asked instead.

"I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true." She got up and moved away from him, toward the kitchen. "I've never gotten in trouble for staying out yet. What are we having?"

"Beef noodles," Lawrence said. "Do you get a lot of this kind of thing at home?"

"Nah," she said. "Frozen dinners and soup. It's easier. My mom doesn't cook."

Lawrence glanced over at her. "Sounds like you have a lot of freedom."

"Hell yeah, I do. It's awesome."

"Sounds like it," Lawrence said. Leonard was pretty sure his father didn't actually mean that. He might leave Leonard to his own devices while he was at work but there was no way he'd be allowed to stay out overnight. "It looks like there are usually a lot of people over there, aren't there?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, mom's always got someone hanging out. Why?"

"Just something I noticed."

After that he dropped the topic of her home life. The three of them talked until late, mostly about the move and what it had been like living in Atlanta.

"Hey, so," she said when they were done eating. "I don't want to stay too late."

"I thought it didn't matter," Leonard said.

"Too late for you," she clarified. She shot Leonard a smirk. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Leonard watched her leave and turned to his dad. "I think she made that up, about being able to stay out."

"I don't," Lawrence said quietly.

"Why do we have to play basketball all the time?" he complained. They'd been playing all morning and he'd lost his patience with it once she had won her fourth game of Horse. "Let's go for a walk."

"You're just mad you lost again," she said. "Where do you think we'd go?"

"I don't know, isn't there some place you like to go? You're the one who talks about how much time you don't spend at home."

She shook her head at him. "Yeah, I know a place," she said. "The kids play kickball there."

"So? Let's go." He let the basketball roll into the carport and he let her lead the way.

The problem with this idea was he was bored within about ten minutes. "Is this the most interesting thing there is to see? This sucks."

"No," she said. "Ask nicely and maybe I'll show you something better."

"Just fucking do it, you're bored too."

"Not if you're going to be this big of a pissbaby over it." She turned her back and started walking. "Follow me and don't tell anyone where we're going."

He started to trail along behind her. "Who am I going to tell? These kids?"

"I mean your dad." She let him catch up before continuing. "It's a secret."

He rolled his eyes. "I get the picture."

Their destination was several blocks away. She waved off his attempts to get her to tell where they were going. It wasn't until they picked their way past a dilapidated board fence that she volunteered any information. "It's a little run-down, so be careful."

He looked at the house she'd brought him to. "Run-down? It's falling down," he said. "What the hell are we doing here?"

"Nah, it's not. It only looks that way." The board over the front door was loose and she squeezed through the space. He watched her disappear from his sight. After hesitating for a minute, he followed.

"What took you so long?" she asked him.

"I just didn't know…" He interrupted himself. "What is this place?"

"It's my hideout." The windows were covered with boards like the front door had been, so slivers of light were all that illuminated the room from the edges of the panes. "It's pretty cool. Much more private than your place was. I'm going to bring some stuff here, make it nice."

There was no way to make this nice; it was still a condemned house no matter how cool she tried to say it was. He let her guide him through the rooms, realizing she was letting him into something private. He just bet that she'd never shown anyone else this space. He looked over at her. They were friends, like real friends. When had that happened?

Eventually they climbed back through the gap and brushed the musty, dusty smell of the house off of themselves in the summer sunshine. After that they walked around the neighborhood for hours. Then they headed back to his house and took up their usual places on the couch to watch something. It wasn't until late that Lawrence came home that night. Allison had dozed off to sleep. "Hey," Leonard said, giving her a nudge. "Dad's home."

Lawrence shook his head with a little click of his tongue. "It's okay. Let her sleep."

Leonard looked from his father to the sleeping girl. "You mean let her stay here overnight?"

"That's what I mean." His dad set his briefcase on the kitchen counter. "You see how much time she spends here. Don't you think that's for a reason?"

"Yeah, sure." He remembered that conversation, a couple of weeks back. He looked at her again. Her pale eyelashes were splayed on her cheeks, and her blonde hair trailed down each shoulder. She looked so different, so peaceful, this way. "So you think that's true? About how she doesn't need to come home?"

"Head on to bed,'' Lawrence said. "I'll take care of it if anything comes out of it."

"Yeah, okay," Leonard said, still just a touch confused. But if his dad thought it was a good idea, it was best just to roll with it. He headed back to his bedroom.

It turned out Lawrence was right—Allison's mother simply didn't seem to care. She thanked him when he went over to tell her that Allison had stayed over, and that was it. After that Allison crashing out on the couch became commonplace.

One evening she came over with a pack of cards. He turned on some music, and they settled in on the floor to use the coffee table to lay the cards on. "Let's play Slapjack," she suggested.

He shrugged. "Sure." He watched her as she dealt out half the cards to him, her hair flopping over her shoulder as she moved her arm back and forth. As they started to play he considered how to open the conversation. "You have a lot of stuff going on, huh? At home?"

She laid down her cards one at a time, not looking at him. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Hey, that's cool." He turned up a jack and slapped at the card, wincing when her hand landed on top of his. "That one's mine."

She pushed the pile in his direction. "I don't talk about that stuff. It's nobody's business."

He laid down a card. "Sure you do. I mean, you told Dad about some of it."

She waved off his words. "I didn't tell him anything that people don't already know."

"Oh. Okay." He had a slight frown on his face and glanced at her as he alternated laying his cards down with hers.

She nudged his hand. "Hey, watch yourself," she said, teasing just a bit. "I just don't put up with it, that's all. Like, there was this one time when I was a kid—the school counselor tried to get me to tell him about something that happened and I just kicked him in the shin and ran off."

"Why'd you do that?" he asked.

She kept her gaze on the cards, quickly slapping the pile when another jack turned up. "Because it was my problem, not his."

He shook his head. Even when she couldn't handle things, shouldn't have to, she handled them anyway. He wondered why she was like that.

She gestured at him. "Hey, can you get me another soda?" she asked.

He reached over to where they sat on the floor, between the table and the couch. His leg brushed against hers when he moved and he glanced at her as he returned to a sitting position and handed her a bottle. She took it, moving away from him slightly. "It's hot," she said, uncapping it and taking the first swallow.

"Yeah," he said, choosing to turn and take one for himself.

The conversation meandered then, and they were having fun, but he couldn't keep his mind off of her problems. The next time a jack turned up he didn't notice and she smacked his hand after smacking the stack of cards. She laughed. "Pay attention, idiot," she said. "You don't even care about the game, come on."

"Hey," he complained, his hand tingling from the strike. "I am paying attention."

"No, you're not." She grabbed his cards to shuffle and deal them back out.

She was right. He was sitting there thinking about her home life, all the details she refused to tell him. Why she was always running, why she'd chosen him to run to. He accepted the cards that she handed him and they started in playing another round.

"Come on, Leonard," she laughed after the round was over. "You're not getting into it."

He shrugged. "I don't want to play anymore."

"Oh, you're being such a pussy," she said. She picked up the stack of cards and started flicking them out in his direction. "Come on, Leonard. Pick 'em up."

"Aw, fuck," he groused. "Why'd you do that?" He pushed the cards back at her. "You're being an asshole. Stop it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Then stop asking me about shit."

He didn't know she'd been doing that on purpose, but he knew now that he'd overstepped his bounds. What was it that made her wall that part of her life off from him—from everyone? He glanced away, then focused his gaze on her, worried and somehow feeling protective of her, not knowing what it was she even needed protection from.

Her expression hardened even more, her mouth set. "Stop looking at me like that." She tossed her head and rose to her feet, leaving her cards behind. "Forget it, I'm out."

He watched her go. He wished he could take it back, but he didn't realize what he'd done. Not until later. She was smart, she'd seen it in his eyes, what he didn't even know was happening.

It was stupid, they were only fourteen, but that was the night he started to fall in love with her.

After that she never came to stay the night anymore.


Music for this chapter:

Rainy Season - Seam
When they first meet she has to worm her way into his heart, but once she's there he knows she'll never leave

Alison's Starting to Happen - The Lemonheads
Leonard's young but the more he learns about Allison the more he starts to fall for her

Sweet Child Of Mine - Luna (cover)
Their young summer together becomes a special memory to Leonard and a defining period of his life