Author's notes (March 2, 2020): Hey y'all! I'm terribly sorry for not updating sooner. The short explanation is that I've been sick twice since my December 22nd update. Also, I know I promised longer chapters, and I actually have been working on this one since early January, but I just can't look at it anymore. (It's been through more rewrites than I can count.) The good news is, the next one has already been started, and will have a surprise! The bad news is, as of this posting, I'm starting to wonder if my last course of antibiotics was strong enough. :(

Also, just so there's no confusion, when I reference Allen's 'past relationships', I'm speaking in purely platonic terms.

Dante – Thank you, I'm so glad you like it! :)

As usual, telepathy looks like 'this'.

Kindred Spirits (Part Three)

Blissful quiet fell upon the house, save for the soft, high-pitched resonance of wind chimes being teased by the mischievous north breeze outside.

Honestly, Lucinda didn't really like cold weather, but keeping the window open, even just a little, meant that she wouldn't have to sage the house of heavy, unwanted energy before finally going to bed.

Hopefully.

Looking back, she couldn't remember a time when there weren't spirits of all ages, sizes, and origins wandering through the rooms of her house, trying to get her attention by any means necessary, some even going so far as to to rummage through her closet or fiddle with her dishes and silverware in the middle of the night.

Though this evening was proving to be relatively uneventful, comparatively speaking, she sighed inwardly, sorely tempted to let herself take full advantage of this rare lull in activity and drift off to sleep.

Much to the blonde's dismay, however, this particular dead man – who wouldn't even give her his name – was being stubborn, and her patience was beginning to wear thin. With her eyes still closed, she addressed him, unaware at first that she was speaking out loud. "Why are you blocking me?"

Pulled from his thoughts on the situation, Allen cast her a sideways glance, mildly startled at the irritation in her voice. "What...?"

Lucinda opened her eyes and turned to him, blinking away the curtain of blackness the tall apparition had imposed upon her. "You must have a knack for getting along with difficult people."

Having put up with General Cross for three long years without losing his sanity, and later Kanda, the poster boy for the word 'difficult', without once giving in to the temptation to knock the latter on his ill-tempered, judgmental ass (the Millennium Swordsman case notwithstanding), he couldn't disagree, though he rarely complained about how frustrated the two had often made him. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, his usual nightmares were occasionally replaced by ones where he was forced to share a train compartment with the samurai, as well as his philandering, alcoholic former mentor. Thankfully though, this form of twisted, cruel joke had never happened in real life and hopefully never would.

Allen laughed sheepishly. "Well… I wouldn't call it a 'knack' so much as self-restraint." He paused in hopes of changing the subject, uninterested in potentially having to elaborate on his past relationships. "What did you mean when you said he's 'blocking' you?"

Lucinda pondered how best to answer him, then raised an eyebrow and shrugged, settling on the direct approach. "Close your eyes."

Allen tensed, warily. ...Why?"

Amused, Lucinda snorted lightly at his hesitance. Maybe she was wrong – her energy-sensing ability wasn't always correct, or rather, her interpretations – but she had a suspicion that Allen wasn't truly trusting of anyone but himself. Not that she could blame him, really. On the whole, society was rarely kind to people who didn't fit a certain mould. In the eyes of history, it wasn't all that long ago that she, Emily, and her aunt would have been tried and executed for practicing witchcraft. Even in this age of Spiritualism, they couldn't escape the whispers and scornful looks of people who were convinced the three were either mentally ill, con artists, or somewhere in between.

Instead of explaining, though, she simply replied with a small, expectant smile.

With that, Allen decided to humor her, just as she wanted. Or so he supposed. "O-Okay."

"What do you see?"

He shook his head. "It's dark..."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. It really is always the pretty ones..."Very good, it's dark."

Allen returned a perplexed expression. "That's it?"

Amused even further, her eyes sparkled. "You expected some kind of fantastic secret that only psychics know?"

"Ah, well… Maybe? But I definitely didn't think it would be so…"

"Ordinary?"

Allen nodded. "Ordinary."

Lucinda laughed softly. "It's actually a technique they use when they're trying to keep their dirty little secrets, well...secret."

Allen blinked. "Why would a dead person care about keeping secrets?"

Lucinda shrugged. "Sometimes folks who were thought of as upstanding citizens in life," she gestured outwardly, "turns out they weren't as upstanding as people might have thought." She paused. "Although...I don't think that's the case here with your friend. I think he's actually trying to keep me from seeing something he thinks I won't understand."

Steepling his index fingers, Allen sighed. "So...is there any other way to resolve this?"

"Let's see…" She put a fingertip to her lips, then lifted her hand in an upward motion. "He's about six feet, dark-blue eyes, and dark hair…?"

Allen shook his head, frustrated. There was no way he could identify the man from such a vague description, either. Somehow though, he was sure that he could see the faint outline of a figure leaning against the room's door frame. Beyond that, no one in particular came to mind.

He sighed again, this time a little more dramatically. "Sorry."

Lucinda shook her head. "No need to apologize." Her eyes flitted to the doorway and she tilted her head. "He wants you to know he's alright... He says that The Light welcomed him as soon as you separated him from his Innocence, and-"

Separated him...from his Innocence…? As she continued, Allen's vision blurred suddenly, and his head began to throb as a rapid, violent drumbeat pulsed in his ears. Willing back a bitter, caustic swell of nausea, he hurriedly clasped his left hand over his mouth, as the fingers of his right hand slid to her wrist, unintentionally clamping around it like an angry vice.

The wound on his side forgotten for now, he pulled his knees up under his chin and rested his forehead against them as his entire body began to tremble, flashes of the abomination that was once Suman Dark, followed by Tyki Mikk and his perverted butterfly Teez, replaying in his mind.

Then, as quickly as the twilight scenery of that accursed bamboo thicket began to unfold yet again, a gentle, warm light illuminated the encroaching darkness and guided him back to the safety of the present.

Despite this abrupt reprieve, however, his head was swimming and he struggled to focus. "C-Can't be..."

His tension and nausea quickly subsiding, he lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes, the source of his lifeline back to reality immediately apparent – Lucinda. Or more precisely, her right hand.

Inhaling sharply, his gaze fell to the fragile, red skin trapped beneath his grip. Wrenching his hand away, Allen stuttered a quietly tearful, mortified apology through his leather-clad fingers. "I-I'm sorry…!"

Lucinda shook her head, unconcerned with the condition of her wrist. She'd never witnessed such an adverse reaction to one of her sessions before.

Most of the time, she was merely a messenger delivering the wishes and wisdom of the dead to their living family and friends. In the sporadic cases when a living person came to ask her to connect them with Spirit, that person had specific questions to be answered by those on the Other Side. Granted, every living person had spirits with them at all times – typically guardians and guides – but they rarely spoke unless spoken to.

She chided herself for being so unprepared and not realizing his building anxiety sooner, though it was unlikely she could have done anything to prevent it, considering how quickly the darkness had overtaken him.

Carefully, she placed her hand on Allen's arm, instantly thankful when his breathing started to slow to a normal pace, though a swirl of powerful, negative emotions remained.

Fear.

Confusion.

Sorrow.

Shame.

Regret.

With a few, quick and silent words, she gathered them into a tight sphere and summoned a shaft of light in her mind's eye, purifying and dispersing the negativity before speaking. "What happened?"

Allen's eyes snapped to hers and he shook his head quickly. "N-Nothing." Gathering his wits as best he could, he paused in an attempt to divert her worry, as well as address what she had just done. "How did you do that just now? That light, where did it come from?"

Lucinda smiled softly, her eyes still filled with concern, despite his deflection. "I'm also an energy healer. Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes, I'm fine." Breaking eye contact and taking in a ragged breath, Allen wrapped his arms around his knees.

It seemed as if she'd proven her ability to communicate with the dead, but he couldn't ignore the fact that the glow from her hand was incredibly similar to Innocence when weaponized and activated.

And, from all appearances, she could control this puzzling phenomena at will.

Allen exhaled slowly as his focus sharpened. He hadn't heard of any unexplained goings on in this particular region, but it was always possible that, if it were Innocence, it had gone unnoticed by functioning in a limited capacity. Now that he thought about it, he, Lavi, Lenalee, Krory and Bookman had come across Mei Ling completely by accident. This very well could be a similar situation.

Except one thing didn't fit with this theory: the glow was very clearly white, not green.

As he pondered this, Allen offhandedly noted that the strange tingling sensation he'd felt when he woke up earlier had returned, and he was much more at ease than he'd been even a few seconds before.

In the end, the exorcist decided to leave the subject of Innocence for another time – likely the next day, as he was fairly certain Lucinda would ask about it anyway – and move on to a more pressing matter.

Again, he straightened and looked up to meet her still-concerned gaze. "This man… Did he tell you his name?"

Lucinda shook her head. "No, he didn't." Her brows furrowed.

"What is it?"

"...He's apologizing; says the last thing he wanted to do was upset you like this." She paused, nodding. 'Sure,that's fine.' "He's leaving now...and he says 'thank you'."

Taking a chance, Allen leaned forward, unconsciously reaching out his hand, his silver eyes trained on the spot where he'd last seen the man's silhouette. "W-Wait! Suman!"

So...hey. If anyone out there is interested, I could really use a beta reader. Last one I had apparently sailed off the edge of the world at some point. I've been over this like 6,000 times and I don't see any typos, but I'm sure they're just waiting to come out of the woodwork until after the chapter is live. On a different subject, stop right there! Seriously, I know what you're thinking (maybe), and you're wrong. ;p

Feed the starving fanfic author? Please?