Author's Note: To be very honest, this story should be considered an original story. It won't be obvious for a while yet, but these characters are not the same as their namesakes in canon personality wise. A good part of it is because, well, this is a mafia AU, plus I took a lot of liberties with their backstories (in a bid to make it fit into a real-world setting). And since they do not have the same experiences that they did in canon, I figured that it made sense to tweak their personalities accordingly. I apologize if this makes anyone feel uncomfortable, but it was a necessary evil in my opinion.

I love chatting (bonus points since it's DGM), so feel free to chat me up! XD Reviews and critique would be greatly appreciated too :P

Chapter 2: Still Life

"What," Lavi said carefully, "the fuck."

What the fuck indeed. Kanda would have laughed, if not for the fact that the brat looked dead on her feet, and he himself felt ready to drop. Sopping wet, hair clinging to their faces, blood seeping through his clothes. Between them, they must be a right spectacle.

The fact that Lavi looked absolutely gobsmacked, his expression vacillating rapidly between utter confusion and panic, was just the cherry on the cake.

Standing tall at six foot one, Lavi towered over most of the Order. With windswept red hair and mischievous green eyes that twinkled with roguish appeal, he stood out no matter the crowd. A prankster with a flair for theatrics, he was also sly, tenacious, and capable of being utterly ruthless. The fact that he seemed to think Kanda was fun to mess with meant that the latter had no words for him at the best of times.

Having said that, even Kanda had to admit that the redhead had a few redeeming qualities. He was sagacious when he was not clowning around, with an eye for detail, good reflexes, and a disconcerting focus that made him very, very good at what he did. It also meant that he was not a complete waste of space, which counted for a lot in Kanda's eyes.

In fact, it was downright bizarre for Lavi, usually so discerning, to be thrown so far off balance. Kanda found himself savouring the moment with savage glee, despite the knowledge that it was at his expense. But that was before the reality of the pain caught up with the present, made his breath hitch in his throat, and wrenched him forcefully back on track.

"Go fetch the general," Kanda spat out from between clenched teeth, with no small amount of effort. His left hand was still clamped onto his side, bandaged clumsily with strips of cloth they had shredded from his shirt. It was the best they could do on such short notice. He could only take comfort in the fact that, at the very least, he still had his coat.

Lavi did not tease or quibble, all things he would have done usually. Simply sat them both down by the wall, bade them make themselves comfortable, before running like hell.

That was when Kanda realized just how bad they must look.

He did not take long. Footfalls resonated in the enclosed space, honing in on their location. The pace at which they were getting closer conveyed a persistent sense of urgency that echoed Kanda's own.

One look at the group that had turned the corner and were making a beeline for them had Kanda huffing, the tension that had hitherto knotted his muscles dissipating. The general was standing front and center, having taken his place at the head of the procession, followed closely by the redhead and several members of the infirmary staff.

Ginger must have picked them up on the way back.

Joy.

Komui Lee, otherwise known as the general, was the authority of the Black Order. Unfortunately, the title came with a penchant for dilettantism, and a reputation for being intractable. Most days, the only way Kanda could bring himself to deal with Komui was with equal measures of equanimity and resignation.

But on days — few and far between — when Kanda could bear to be honest with himself, he would grudgingly acknowledge that he trusted Komui to get things done. That when push came to shove, Komui was capable of taking charge, usual shenanigans notwithstanding.

Standing before Kanda now, stalwart and militant, a stark contrast to his usual facade, Komui cut an imposing figure. "Kanda, what—"

"Either our mission was sabotaged, or somebody fucked up bad," Kanda cut him off viciously, pain giving his words bite. "Didn't help that this brat here went fucking ballistic."

Allen kept her lips tightly pursed and her eyes downcast. Even after everything, she was unrepentant. It made Kanda itch to slice her up a little.

Komui's frown deepened as he looked at Kanda askance. Kanda scowled, then gave him a sharp nod, "Road was there."

Road. Even her picture was enough to drive Allen to abandon all semblance of reason and control. Not for the first time, Kanda wondered what Allen had against her.

The air around them turned frigid. Lavi's expression was uncharacteristically grim when he spoke up next. "Is she...?"

"No. She escaped," Kanda snapped. He had no delusions about the way the fight had gone; Road, for whatever reason, had chosen to let them go. On a good day, they might have been able to hold their own against her, but in the state they were in, their only hope had been mercy. If she had truly wanted them dead, they would never have gotten out of that decrepit building.

Sometimes it was difficult to remember, because Road so rarely deigned to dirty her own hands, but once, many years ago, he had seen her fight with his own eyes. He knew just how deadly she was. Underestimating her would get them killed, and not in a merciful way.

One look at their stricken faces, and he knew that they understood what he had left unsaid. Then Komui pressed his right hand to his shoulder, and gave it a light squeeze.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry. But I won't rest until I get to the bottom of this. This I promise you."

It was all he could offer, at this point in time. Kanda did not nod, but neither did he shrug his hand away.

"Whatever," he snorted.

The following morning found Lavi in the training room with Lenalee.

Lavi usually trained by himself because he liked the silence that came with it, but he also enjoyed training with Lenalee. His assigned partner was slender in frame and smaller than he was, but it also made her faster, and she had no qualms milking this advantage for all it was worth. It made fighting with her interesting, and there was nothing he liked more than a challenge.

But try as hard as he might, he was unable to summon even an ounce of his usual enthusiasm. The Order had just narrowly escaped losing two of their best. And he knew full well, as well as they did, that they only made it out because they had been allowed to.

They could have died. They should have died. The real question was why they had not.

It hinted at ulterior motives, and none of them liked unknown quantities.

Something flashed in his mind's eye. The memory of another terrible night, long ago. The rain had been so heavy that it had overwhelmed the city's infrastructure, causing minor flooding in less equipped areas.

Crimson mist illuminated by lightning. Falling, falling, glittering like scattered rubies under the scant light that made it past the heavy opaque curtains. Viscous red liquid penning garish trails as it slid down pale skin.

He felt like a bystander, divorced from the present, watching himself fight from some distance away. He barely registered the fact when Lenalee made a fist, cocked it and let it fly, and by the time he had snapped out of his trance, it was already too late.

Contrary to appearances, Lenalee hit hard. Her fist slammed into his sternum with all the force of a hammer, and he doubled over, wheezing, dropping onto the padded ground like a marionette cut free from its strings.

"Lavi?" Lenalee crouched down beside him, eyes wide in astonishment, as if she could not believe that her punch had connected, "Lavi, are you okay?"

He coughed, winced, then smiled. Lenalee never pulled her punches. It was part of her charm.

He flashed her a cheeky grin and pressed his hand to the mat, tapping it twice, signaling his surrender. She relaxed in ardent relief.

Then he groaned, dropped back onto the mats, and contented himself with letting his attention drift. Face up, eyes on the fluorescent lights fixed to the ceiling. Beside him, he felt Lenalee do the same.

The silence between them was a companionable one.

As expected, Lenalee spoke up first. She always did.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

Lavi hesitated, debating the merits of telling her the truth, then decided that there was no point in hiding it. She was bound to find out anyway, one way or another.

"Kanda and Allen got back late yesterday. And... It was bad. Allen was all banged up. Kanda even had to get stitches. Imagine that." He forced himself to laugh. The sound of it was all wrong.

And then, because he could not continue stalling, "Road was there." Like an anvil dropped from mid-air, heralding despair. He felt almost hollowed-out.

"Road was there?" Lenalee asked, eyes wide with incredulity. "Wait, Kanda was there? I thought Komui assigned the mission to Allen alone."

He froze. His heart skipped a beat. Bile rose to the back of his throat.

Komui had assigned the mission to Allen alone?

It sounded like a bad joke. But Lenalee had no reason to lie.

His fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Lavi?" Lenalee's tone was one of confused concern.

Lavi laughed. What came out was a dry, barking sound, wrung out of his throat with force. "He did. But you know what Kanda's like. He made his opinion about Komui's assignment perfectly clear, then grabbed his knives and put himself on the next train out of the city."

From beside him came the sound of chuckling. The mat vibrated pleasantly against his skin.

"Well, I'm glad they're back. Thanks for telling me," Lenalee murmured after a pause. Her eyes grave, fixed firmly on his, told him that she knew he was hiding something, but also that she understood, and would wait until he was willing to tell her.

There was not much that could be said after that. Conversation died down, consumed by contemplative silence.

It would be nice if we could just stay here like this, Lavi thought, relaxing and sinking further down into the mats. The padding was comfortable, and thick enough that he could not feel the hard marble floor beneath him. The early morning air was crisp, and brought with it a refreshing breeze. Lenalee's fingers were warm, lightly knocking against his.

Far away, on the other end of the room, the sun's rays spilled onto the floor, pooling on the marble like spools of warm golden thread.

"I think," he breathed, "that a bath is in order, followed by breakfast. How does that sound?"

"I think it sounds wonderful," Lenalee replied breezily.

She stood up first, dusted her pants off in case any dirt had gotten caught in the fabric, and held out a hand to him, eyes sparkling in the light of dawn.

He smiled, and reached up to take her hand.