A/N: Hey! *wave* I've been low-key meaning to add to this one for a while, but I kept juggling around which scene I wanted to do. *nervous chuckle* I actually meant to do this one much later, but eh.

Thank you to Lena-luvs-cats, jy24, Amelia Loves Anime, alpaca, Chaoshift, newby6320, pikaree1, The Mouse Maestro, sparklehannah, Ryuakilover, Mana D. Campbell, Freefan1412, kylC, and 2 guests for reviewing!

Title: Fair Play

Author: liketolaugh

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Genre: Family/Drama

Warnings: AU

Summary: Cross hated his master. Really. Allen fucking Walker was the most infuriatingly mysterious human being on the planet - but even Cross couldn't say that Allen had done a bad job looking after him.

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.

Cross was hiding.

Cross hated hiding, he hated being anything less than the center of attention, but he did it anyway, because the monsters were still there. He could hear their footsteps echoing up and down the halls, he could hear the screams of the staff and students, and he could hear the crack and thunder of something breaking the walls.

He shuddered, reaching up to press his fingers lightly over the agonizing burn of the brand on his face, and bit back a terrified sob, jerking his hand back down to clutch at rosary he wore. A shadow passed through the light filtering under the closet door, and he pressed himself further into the corner, trying to hide himself more, more. Lower down, his other hand curled around the cool grip of his father's old gun, shaking.

Under his panting breath, not speaking for fear of being heard, Cross mouthed, Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee-

As time passed, the sounds gradually faded into nothing, the shouting and the crashing dying away, and for a moment, Cross wondered if they'd left – left and forgotten about him. His stomach was clenched so tight he felt nauseous, and he was almost cross-eyed, he was listening so hard, shaking in place.

There were footsteps, he realized after a moment, breath catching in his throat, air so thick he nearly choked on it. Coming toward him, slow and careless, echoing into the pressing silence.

With his eyes fixed on the door, he listened to the footsteps coming closer and closer. They came in front of the door, and- paused. Cross held his breath, shrinking back, sticky tears running down his cheeks and stinging at his burn like the flames of Hell were licking at his face.

Those monsters had killed his parents, smashed their heads with horrible crunching sounds and splashes of red blood and worse, along with almost everyone else. Except him.

They'd marked him, telling him he was smart, he had a good brain, and he didn't want to know what for. He didn't even know how he'd stopped it. He didn't know if he could do it again.

He wanted-

The doorknob turned, and Cross froze. A moment later, the door started to open, light spilling through, and with a breathy gasp, he jerked the gun up to point at it. Despite the tears on his face, he narrowed his eyes into a glare, wishing his hand wasn't shaking.

Then it opened further, and he saw the figure on the other side.

Angel, was his first thought.

But angels hadn't helped him while the monsters tore apart the university, so he kept the gun up, and snarled at it, his voice shaking as much as his hand, "Back off!"

The angel tilted its head, and then a small frown curved its lips. As Cross took him in further, he realized that he was being stupid; this was no angel at all. It was a man. Just a really weird one.

The man towered over him, his snowy white hair falling past his shoulders, which Cross could barely see because of the large white cloak that seemed to produce its own light. A wicked black clawed hand peeked out from under it, and a massive scar ripped down the left side of the man's face, right through one of his silver eyes.

"Back off!" Cross repeated, louder, when he realized the man wasn't moving.

The man's frown changed into a soft, understanding smile, and, very slowly, he started to lower himself, until he stood in crouch before Cross. Cross swallowed.

"It's all right, boy," the man said to him, silver eyes steady and unafraid. His right hand, the normal one, reached out and settled over the muzzle of Cross' gun, gently pushing it down. Cross let him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Cross' breath hitched, and he moved neither forward nor back, trembling. "There are monsters here," he warned unsteadily. "They'll kill us both like-" He squeezed his fist in demonstration. Crunch. "That."

"I took care of the monsters," the man promised. "There's no one here but us."

Cross' eyes widened despite himself. "No one?"

The man's eyes softened, smile fading away. "No one. I'm sorry." He reached out, slow and careful, and brushed his fingers across the burns on Cross' face before Cross flinched away with a yelp. That hurt, that hurt, that- "Are you alright?"

"I'm f-fine," Cross tried to snap, knuckles white around the grip of the gun, shaking again. His gaze fell to the ground, and his shoulders shook once, then twice. He couldn't stop crying. Why couldn't he stop crying?

"Hm." There was a brief flash, and then the light faded almost entirely. Cross glanced back up to find that the cloak had vanished, and though the man's left hand was red, it wasn't clawed and monstrous anymore. There was just him, in a black and gold uniform, with his long white hair and his vivid scar.

Cross might've been curious about how that was possible, but- No. No, he really wasn't.

"Would you be willing to come with me, boy?" the man asked gently, his left hand moving to cover Cross' right, steady and firm.

"Wh-why I should I?" Cross tried to challenge, but it came out too pathetic, even with the glare he aimed at the man.

The man smiled – gentle, wry, and something like enigmatic. "I can tell you what happened here," he said quietly. "And why that gun of yours worked."

It had worked for Cross. It hadn't worked for anyone else. Like Cross' father.

"Okay." Cross pressed the hand with the gun to the ground and tried to push himself up, but he was too shaky from being tense for so long; his legs buckled under him and he fell with a yelp.

A moment later, the man leaned forward and scooped him up, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. Cross squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to whimper as the simple rush of air aggravated the burn on his face, still with a tight grip on the gun now resting on his stomach, and he felt the man sigh against him.

"I'm sorry," the man murmured quietly, starting to move. "Bear with it, please. I can treat you when we get to where we're going, but it's going to hurt." Quieter, "Stay strong."

Cross wanted to answer, wanted to tell the man that he was a stupid idiot imbecile, but the adrenaline had left him and now- it just really, really hurt.

A moment later, the man shifted Cross, and one of the man's hands came up to cradle his face – fingers just skirting the edges of the wound, but solid enough to block most of the air flow from reaching Cross' face. Cross opened his eyes a little and peered at the man blearily, seeing the man gazing back down at him, solemn and unsmiling.

"It'll be alright, boy," the man told him when he noticed him watching. "You'll see."

"Stupid," Cross mumbled, letting his eyes close and his head rest against the man's chest, just the left side pressed against it. "…'S your name?"

"Allen," the man replied. "General Allen Walker."

"Oh." Cross took a breath and let it out, long and shuddering. "…'M Cross."

"Hello, Cross. It's good to make your acquaintance."

Whatever.

Gratuitous use of headcanons in this one, and a little shorter, but at least Cross is back. *smile* Cross is about ten, by the way, same as Allen when Cross picks him up. Thanks for reading, and please review!