Note: This fic takes place around thirty years before the present time in D. Gray Man. As such, none of the following major characters are OCs but rather younger representations of older characters.

Tragedy At A Ballet

Malcolm had always found himself unable to understand the appeal of ballet. While such performances were in of themselves suitably entertaining and the talent and grace of the dancers evident, he could never see past the concerningly underweight girls themselves. The way their shoulder blades and sometimes their vertebrae protruded from their backs often triggered a sense of unease that so thoroughly distracted him that he could miss an entire act or two in mulling the implications over. Underpaid performers unable to feed themselves sufficiently…or intentional deprivation to retain the figure so desired for this frivolous art. Then he would contemplate the adverse effects in the long term: bone loss, digestive complications, organ failure, all the horrible things his younger sister had no problem expanding on in conversations over dinner.

So engrossed in these thoughts, he once again managed to completely miss the finale of Swan Lake and only jolted back to awareness once his companions on either side of him, as well as the entire audience, began to applaud as the red, velvet curtain fell. In a confused daze, he too brought his hands together once, twice, thee times. "Bravo," he murmured with a yawn.

To his left, Charlotte elbowed him and teased, "You fell asleep, didn't you, Malcolm?"

"I did not."

"You fell asleep?" On his right, Karma turned to look at him, her dark eyes flashing in the dim theatre lights.

"No, I didn't. Lottie is just teasing."

"I saw you with your eyes closed," his sister insisted. She rose to her feet and executed a most unladylike stretch of her arms above her head, earning a sour look from the matron in the box next to theirs. Karma saw this and returned it with a glare of her own until their neighbor averted her eyes and whispered something to her male partner.

"Let's just go," Malcolm muttered, wincing as pain shot through his legs and lower back when he stood. He'd been sitting too long.

Charlotte giggled and slipped her shawl over her shoulder, the nice one lined with mink fur that Father had given her. "Do you think we'll catch the next train? Or are we stuck in London for the night?"

Malcolm checked his timepiece and saw it was nearly eleven. "If we hurry." With a ten minute walk to the station ahead of them, a brisk walk, it was feasible they could take the last northbound train leaving on the hour. If not, they could find lodgings in the city and head back to the Order the following morning. Of course, Father would be none to pleased to cover the expense of two separate hotel rooms—after all, polite society would not expect him to room with two ladies, even if one was his own family—but it was unlikely the scrooge would make too much of it.

His sister grinned and practically skipped her merry way out of the theatre box. Just before they exited the gallery, though, Karma suddenly wound her arm through his and leaned in close, cheek pressed against his shoulder. Malcolm paused, startled by this rare display of affection. For as long as he'd known her, and they'd been friends since they were children, Karma had always been a reserved and stoic woman who remained generally unbothered by the majority of the world around her. It was a trait he rather found enviable when she held her own in a crisis and utterly maddening when he was cross with her.

"Thank you for inviting me," Karma said in her low, sonorous voice. "I had fun tonight."

Malcolm smiled down at her and patted her gloved hand. "I'm glad. It's good to see you out of the training hall once in a while."

Karma gave him a wry look. "Well, it is nice to be in public and not in uniform at the same time for once." For the occasion, she'd foregone her customary exorcist's uniform and had instead worn a midnight blue dress with lacy, flared sleeves and black frills around the hem. It was by far the most feminine thing Malcolm had seen her wear in the past six months. Charlotte had even loaned her a pearl necklace and another one of their mutal friends had braided her hair in a style that was in the current fashion, complete with a sprig of hycinths by her ear. The effect was, in everyone's opinion, rather fetching. When Ira, one of their exorcists, had seen them as they were leaving the Order, he had called after them, "Don't go letting some halfwit fall in love with you now, you hear!"

Karma sighed, bringing Malcolm's attention back to the present, not to mention their goal of making it out of the theatre and to the train station before they were all stranded in the London soup fog. "You know," she said. "I don't think I've ever—"

A loud scream and the sound of gunfire cut her off and they both whirled around to face the auditorium. "What was—" Before he could finish the question, Karma darted forward and threw herself from the balcony ledge, her skirts and frills billowing after her like the tailfeathers of an exotic bird. Midleap, she drew her longsword-Innocence and landed with a resounding thud on the stage.

Well, that explains why she was so insistent on sitting in the gallery, Malcolm thought as he scanned the stampeding crowd for the gunman. Women were tripping over their evening finery, their husbands and brothers and fathers were shielding them as they bottle-necked in the two exits, and lone attendees were vaulting over the backs of seats in their desperation to escape. But no one carried a weapon. No one appeared to be an akuma in human skin. He turned toward the ornate boxes lining the galleries. All were nearly empty now. So where—then he saw the smoking bullet hole in the curtain. Oh, God. One of the performers? But why now? Why wait until the end of the ballet? No sooner than he asked this, a Level II in the form of a gigantic cobra burst onto the stage apron. Below, Karma gave a startled curse and stepped smoothly aise with all the grace and skill of a matador. Malcolm gripped the rim of their box as the serpent tore through the auditorium, hissing in rage as it wheeled about to made another pass at his friend. As the demon spread its hood, he saw two rows of cannons take aim, and then he was running into the corridor.

If that thing had been lurking among the ballet dancers, then they had most certainly been the first to be attacked. There wasn't much he and Lottie could do against the virus, but if there were survivors, they could at least help shepherd them to safety. "Malcolm!" He whirled around to find Charlotte rushing toward him, her shoulderbag clutched in her hand and he knew without asking it contained her medical kit. "I heard the shots! Is it akuma?"

"Yes! Level II. Karma's handling it."

"Thank God! Did you see where it came from?"

"Backstage!"

Without another word, the two of them took off, shoving through the panicked crowd of bodies pressed together in the hall. Over the screams and muffled by the walls, he heard another volley of cannon fire and the hiss of indistinct words as the akuma struck again, followed by a crash and the sound of splintering wood. As they practically fought their way down the stairs leading to the grand foyer, a sea of suits and evening gowns was flooding toward the front doors and among them were a number of dancers still in costume. Satisfied the theatre crowd was headed in the right direction—that is, putting as much distance between themselves and demon as humanly possible—Malcolm and Charlotte followed a painted sign denoting the way to the actors' dressing rooms and the general rear stage area.

Along the way, they found a handful of dancers, four female and two young men, huddled in various, obscure corners, all too terrified to move with their hands over their heads. Behind the curtain, there was a massacre of blood and ashes. Empty costumes lay scattered across the floor, along with the contorted, pentagram-stained bodies of those yet to die. Lottie said an inaudible prayer before making her way among the victims in search of survivors. Beyond the tears in the curtain, Malcolm caught a glimpse of the ruined theatre. Smashed seats and chunks of fallen plaster littered the floor around which Karma was gingerly stepping, eyes locked on the demon machinery. Biting his lip, he saw the akuma serpent rear back preparation to strike. Karma held her ground, and when the Level II's head jutted forward, she made a swift turn on her heel and plunged her blade into the weeping face imbedded in the snake's forehead. Malcolm shielded his eyes from the flash of light that followed, winced at the deafening explosion, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun.

In all, he doubted even a full ten minutes had passed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the young man pulled back the curtain to find his friend standing amidst the wreckage, her moon-pale face streaked with blood and the beautiful dress of which she'd been so proud irreparably torn. The hyacinths in her now disheveled hair were gone.

"Are you all right, Karma?"

She nodded. "Yeah. How about you and Lottie?"

"I think so." Malcolm glanced back at his sister, who was now cradling one of the dying girls in her arms, a pretty blonde maid around her own age who had played one of the background swans. The virus was spreading quickly across the girl's porcelain skin; she would disintegrate any moment now. Charlotte knew it too and seemed to be trying to comfort her temporary charge as best she could, rocking her as though she were a child and smiling even as her face streaked with tears. "I know," she whispered to her. "I know it hurts, but it's going to be over soon, I promise. Just hold onto me and the pain will end in a moment."

"Did anyone…?" Malcolm heard Karma's approach him even as her question trailed off.

"A few," he answered.

"Help me," the girl in Charlotte's arms whispered. "I don't want to die…"

Malcolm clenched his jaw and turned away, not caring that Scotland Yard would arrive and detain them if they found them among the bodies. Beside him, Karma dropped her blade Innocence and sank to her knees. At the very least, she should leave, Malcolm thought vaguely. If the Yard catches her with blood on her clothes, they might put two and two together and come up with five. And then the Order would have to go through the hassle of pulling strings to have her released from lock-up, during which she would have spend several uncomfortable hours in either interrogation or a cell crowded with the nightlife drunks and other nuisances of the London streets. He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Get going, Karma. You don't want to be here when—"

"Mal! Karma! Come quick!"

Both of them snapped their heads around to where Lottie and the ballerina were huddled together. To their amazement, the girl had not yet died. In fact, the dreaded black stars had receded! They were fading away, leaving the dancer's pale skin as flawless as ever before, save for a deep, bleeding gash where the akuma's bullet had grazed her bicep. As the sight of it, Charlotte tore open her medical kit and withdrew a bottle of alcohol and a roll of bandages. "Lie down, miss. You're going to be all right."

"What…what happened," the ballerina asked.

There could only be one explanation but not one she would understand just yet: Innocence. A parasite exorcist.

Malcolm traded a glance with Karma whose dark, haunted eyes had a renewed hope.

"Tell me your name," Charlotte said in a now cheery, almost jubilant, tone. "Brother, find us a blanket. Karma, something to prop her legs up, please."

There was nothing nearby, so Karma hurried forward to kneel in front of their miracle exorcist and place her feet on her knees. As Malcolm glanced about backstage in search of anything that would suit his sister's request, he heard the ballerina's weak voice. "Alma…my name is Alma Casales.

"Hello, Alma," Charlotte answered. "My name is Charlotte Leverrier. Over there is my brother, Malcolm, and this lovely lady at your feet is Yuu Karma."

…

By the time the constables arrived on the scene, Charlotte had finished bandaging Miss Casales' arm. The head of the party, the Commissioner of Scotland Yard himself no less, took one look at the scene and crossed himself before demanding his men take all four of them into custody and became quite vexed when he was largely ignored. With a new and unlooked for exorcist, there wasn't a chance in hell any of them were going willingly to accompany them to the station, and Karma made that quite clear by drawing her weapon on the lot of them and eyeing the officers down with her favorite, It's been a long, goddamn night and you all had better not make it more so, glare.

"Can you stand," Charlotte gently asked Miss Casales.

Wrapped in a bit of drop cloth Malcolm had found, it seemed clear the trembling young woman was in no state to stand. "I've got her," he said shortly, and he knelt on the floor and hooked his arms under the now former ballerina's knees and shoulders. Lifting her, he found she was light as a feather, and he could feel her shoulder blades and vertebrae through her skin. Malcolm cringed.

He would never understand the appeal of ballet.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: I've had the idea that Kanda's original self was female for a while now.

Regarding Alma's profession before she became an exorcist, her rail thin character design in the manga screamed ballet dancer to me.

Charlotte is the eventual Head Nurse. Given her willingness to stand up to Leverrier, as well as some similarities in their appearances, I sort've imagined them to be brother and sister. As for Leverrier himself, slight ooc to account for a young character, and probably one more optimistic about the Order's situation.

D. Gray Man is owned by Katsura Hoshino.