Allen offered the labor hand job to Kanda, who reacted exactly the way Allen had expected him to-with a muted grumble of protest for show, but no real argument. After all, they both knew that if Allen had been a moron and selected something that required extensive interactions with other people, Kanda would be in jail for causing bodily injury within a day. The swordsman simply did not deal well with socializing.

"But wait, hold on a minute," Allen broke in, a little confused by something. "Weren't you in charge of a bunch of teams of finders for a long time?"

"I was," Kanda admitted, slowly, as though he'd rather not think about it. "But they never argued with me, not unless they had good reason to. Finders at least understood that they should listen to me or die-regular people are just stupid." He fielded an annoyed look Allen's way. "Like you."

Vaguely offended at-not being called stupid, necessarily, that was an insult he was used to-but normal, now there was a barb he couldn't ignore. Allen puffed up a little, and flicked his silver-grey hair to one side. "I'll have you know, that I am anything but normal."

If Kanda rolled his eyes back any farther, they would be able to see the inside of his own skull, Allen was almost certain of this. But to his surprise, the swordsman didn't say anything to accompany the truly epic eyeroll-just shifted uncomfortably, his eyes trawling across the back of the apartment with a faux disinterested look that Allen could spot from a mile away.

"Ah…" Allen ventured. "Kanda?"

Allen knew it was a very, very strange day when Kanda didn't take the obvious bait and insult the living daylights out of Allen. He knew that it was an even stranger day when Kanda let out a deep sigh, pushed his hair back from his eyes, and said, "Listen, beansprout," in a tone of voice that immediately put him on edge.

"Yes…?" He responded, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"You know you have to talk to the usagi at some point, right?" Kanda looked deeply uncomfortable, as though he'd rather be drinking poison than talking on the subject, but-

"What?" Allen asked, almost too surprised by the oddly stilted segue to catch the exact meaning of that tentative, blunt query. But when he finally parsed it out, he was even more surprised, because Kanda was definitely not the sort of person who liked to talk about his own feelings, much less somebody else's. The personality 180 was completely unexpected and not entirely welcome, given the subject matter. "What the hell, Kanda? It's not really your business, is it?"

"My muugen could cut the tension between you two right now." Kanda growled back. "I'm sick of it. Whatever he did that pissed you off so much, whatever you did that pissed him off so much-it's not worth this. There's holding grudges and then there's being petty."

Allen looked away, angry at being told what to do, but also a little embarrassed, because he knew that Kanda was speaking the truth. As much as he wanted that apology, as much as he wanted Lavi to show remorse for attacking his most private secret-it wasn't fair to Kanda. It was obvious that the apartment couldn't go on functioning the way it was now.

And to tell the truth, Allen...kind of missed the Bookman Junior.

If anyone was going to bridge the gap first, it was obviously going to have to be Allen. As much as the thought pained him.

"I'll…" Allen began, then sighed softly, and raked back his bangs. "I'll talk to him."

"I won't do it."

"Lavi!" Allen hissed out, his patience already fraying, despite the conversation only having consisted of a softly-posed question and a quick, dismissive answer. Anger roiled in his chest, threatening to upset his composure, but he forced himself to push it down, down.

Lavi was turned away, looking out the window with dull, vaguely annoyed eyes, like his mind was absent from the conversation. In his mind, the conclusion had already been decided, and that only further incensed Allen.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kanda watching the impending altercation with vague interest. Probably wondering whether or not he would have to step in. He won't have to, Allen thought with a touch of vicious disgust, Lavi and I are so weak that even if we did attack each other, it wouldn't go anywhere.

Patience, patience, He told himself, breathing in and out deeply. "Why won't you even go and talk to Mr. Heminger?" He tried to reason.

Lavi's eyes flickered sideways, almost accusatory in their coldness but-what had Allen done? What had he done, besides try and procure a job that would get Lavi out of the house and into the real world again? Was it because Allen had held a grudge against him for so long? But the Bookman said nothing, apparently content to let Allen fume in complete and utter apathy.

Allen searched for something, anything that would convince Lavi to change his mind, but the only thing that his mind procured for him was why, why, why. Why was he like this, avoiding Allen, refusing to work with them whatsoever? For what reason did Lavi have to be so...resistant to reason?

And then Allen deflated, all the fury drained out of him abruptly, leaving him feeling empty and sad and aching. He simply...didn't understand. Lavi was...in pain. Lavi was battling with something, and he wouldn't even let Allen reach out to him, try to create some sort of understanding. Allen had held onto his grudge long enough-there was a time and a place to let things go, and that time and place was here and now.

"Lavi, please." Allen whispered, a soft plea in his voice.

The tone more than anything else seemed to catch the Bookman's attention-he finally looked at Allen, directly in the eye, his face a study of bland surprise. Even Kanda, who was still perched on the couch nearby, just watching them, shifted a little, uncertain as to where the change in tone had come from.

Allen took a deep breath and, to his utter horror, found himself choking down tears. But maybe he was just-just tired, of fighting with Lavi day after day, of fighting with his disabilities and his weakness. He was tired of waking up and staring at the ceiling of his room, at the unfamiliar cracks, and realizing that he was never going to be in control of his own life, not anymore. He was tired of the endless, terrifying sensation of falling alone, and of the ceaseless ache above his heart.

He turned away from the Bookman and put his hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the weakness that welled up from inside of him. With a voice as steady as he could manage, he asked the wall, "Why won't you talk to me?" He paused for just a moment, just a second, and then a thought occurred to him. It felt as though someone had just punched him in the stomach, his air leaving him all at once. He didn't want to know, he didn't, but he had to ask, he had to- "Is...is it because of...because of The Earl?"

His desperate question was met with hard, unyielding silence. A long time ago, he might have been embarrassed to be showing such emotion, but considering the present company-Kanda, who had seen him break down during their very first mission together, and Lavi, who knew his tears well-he was unconcerned with it. What he cared more about was the fact that his words were met with seeming indifference. And remembering how their argument so long ago had first began, with Lavi's subtle jab at Mana and the Millennium Earl, it would make sense. God, it would make perfect sense.

Allen hadn't even considered the fact that he had been a Noah, the thing which had tortured Lavi into his coma in the first place. Perhaps the Bookman had simply used their argument as an excuse to stop talking to him. Did Lavi's bones shake every time he saw Allen? Did their conversations only drag him back to his time as a captive? Did-

"Allen," Lavi began, sounding startled. "It's...no, of course not, how could you think that?"

At that, Allen's awareness suddenly returned to the present, and all at once he realized that he was hyperventilating, his breath coming in quiet, panicked huffs. He struggled-with Lavi's words and their meaning, with his dizziness, with the lack of air in his lungs. He wasn't even sure that he was going to be able to speak, his vision was spotting so badly.

When Allen said nothing, Lavi continued, in that same bemused, bewildered tone. "Allen, this has...this has nothing to do with you."

"Doesn't it?" Allen barked out a harsh laugh, though it came out as more hysterical than anything else. "You've been avoiding me for the past week, you won't even look at me-"

Lavi interrupted urgently, his voice low and coaxing. "Allen, look at me."

Allen froze, his muscles unwilling to move from their position, hand wrapped around his waist. It wasn't as though he didn't want to move-he wanted to, he wanted to so badly it hurt, but he wasn't sure what he'd see.

"Allen." Lavi said again.

Allen forced his joints to unlock, and slowly turned around, his eye lifting unwillingly to stare into Lavi's. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected to see-anger, rejection, pity-but what he had not expected to see were tears.

"L-Lavi." He whispered, blinking at his friend-if they could even be called that anymore.

"Allen, I'm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything." Lavi was staring at him with an oddly imploring, empty look on his face. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say this, but-Bookman is dying."

Allen sucked in a harsh breath, every nerve ending in his body suddenly going numb. His mind, unbidden, flew back to his and the Bookman's meeting, so long ago-the older man's clear exhaustion, his sallow face- and the only thing he could manage was a weak, shocked, "Oh."

"Be-Before we left…" Lavi said quietly, dragging his hands through his limp red hair again and again, "I-Bookman left me a letter, and I only read it the morning before we boarded the train, and-" He sniffled quietly, his face crumbling. "He's got-some sort of terminal illness, probably cancer, it doesn't matter-"

"Oh Lavi." Allen whispered, and before he could convince himself otherwise, he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around the Bookman Junior's shoulders. He was so thin, so delicate, that Allen was almost worried he would shatter his friend into a million little pieces with a touch. "I'm-I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, I-" Lavi shook his head so violently he almost dislodged Allen in the process. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just couldn't-couldn't face you after what I said to you, about Mana-" A sound ripped out of his throat, sounding more like an animal keen than a human cry. "And then Bookman, and my legs, I just couldn't, it was all too much-"

They had far more to talk about. There was no possible way that their problems could be solved like this, with a cry and a long-overdue conversation-but it was a start. Allen could ignore everything else, especially with Lavi sobbing and broken in his arms, and hold on as tight as he possibly could.

Then he looked up, and caught Kanda's wide-eyed, ominous stare from the couch-and realized that this was not over.

Not by a long shot.

"Kanda, the Bookman's death...what will it mean?"

Lavi was in bed, having cried himself out in Allen's arms, too exhausted to do anything more than curl up and stare into nothingness. Allen ached for his friend, ached to reach out and help him, but-there was nothing he could do, not now. Lavi needed to sleep, to regain his energy-and then they would talk it over in the morning. They would say the things that needed to be said.

But right now, Allen was seated at the table with a mug of green tea, watching Kanda steadily over the rim with dark, silver eyes. He had seen the expression the samurai had been wearing when Lavi had announced the Bookman's impending death. It had only spelled out trouble, loud and clear as if Kanda had screamed it.

Kanda massaged his temples with his hands, looking more exhausted than he had just an hour earlier. His own green tea was cooling next to him, its smell seeping into the air around them and permeating the apartment. Allen wished there was something he could do for the samurai to relieve some of the weight on his shoulders, but...there was nothing. Not when Allen was the cause of most of his troubles in the first place.

"The Bookman was supposed to be our greatest ally in helping you to regain face with the other exorcists." He said finally, letting one hand drop to his mouth, the other reflexively clutching around his tea. "As a senior Bookman, he was going to spread information pertaining to your innocence-not the one you fight with-to the other Bookman across the continents."

Allen absorbed that information quietly, suddenly understanding why Kanda had looked so frightened earlier. The tea in his palm suddenly felt a little more like a lifeline-a rather useless one, certainly, but it was the only thing keeping him steady. "And with the Bookman gone…"

"Bao Lei's Bookman is the next most senior officer, and is completely loyal to her." Kanda continued, mouth twisting into a stormy grimace. "Bookman are supposed to be impartial to historical events, but…" At this, Kanda looked ready to spit. "With enough money, even the most dedicated can be swayed. Her Bookman will spread false information about you, to ensure that she can vilify you. With your execution, she will come into power."

"So-" Allen began, then stopped, then tried to start again, "So-what do we do? How do-" He broke off, staring into his tea, biting down hard on his lip.

"For now, the Bookman seems well enough to travel and spread information as necessary." Kanda said, for the first time looking Allen dead in the eye. "But after that...well, we have no idea. Although Lavi is his apprentice, his word means basically nothing against Bao Lei's Bookman, because of his seniority."

Allen closed his eyes, thinking.

He thought hard, aware of Kanda watching him, aware of the dead silence of the apartment. The only other thing he noticed was the still ever-present scent of tea. Ah, he thought, his eyes slitting open. Ah, I'm not sure why I expected anything else.

"I understand what I need to do." He said quietly, his voice toneless and void of the wretched despair he felt gathering in his stomach. He didn't dare look at Kanda, not wanting to see that harsh, unforgiving glare, and instead rose gracefully to his feet. "I-you won't have any more problems, I'll see to that myself."

"Wait." Kanda said, but Allen didn't stop. He turned away, not wanting to prolong their goodbyes-only to be halted by the soft brush of Kanda's hand going through the space where his Innocence arm had once been.

They both froze, Kanda with shock when he realized that he had just tried to catch hold of Allen's nonexistent arm, Allen with surprise, because the sensation of Kanda's hand brushing where his arm had once been was unnerving and strange. For a moment Allen tried to clench his hand, his fingers, grasped desperately for sensations that he had once taken for granted-but no more, no more. He was suddenly reminded of that time not more than a month ago, when Kanda had risen to leave him and Allen had lurched forward, trying and failing to grasp onto the swordsman.

Kanda was the first to recover. He jumped to his feet, and strode around the table so he could corner Allen against his chair. "What do you understand?" He snarled in Allen's face, his dark eyes fierce and unforgiving. "What did you take from that, you stupid beansprout?"

"I've become too much trouble, haven't I?" Allen asked, practically begged. "I'm-I'm just a useless cripple, after all, I can't-I'm not worth anything anymore to the Order." Kanda's eyes widened at that, but Allen didn't let him interrupt. "If you-if I turn myself in, if I just let myself be turned into a villain, I won't be a problem anymore, right?"

And now that he considered that, it was a good idea, wasn't it? To- "Use me to restore faith in the Order." Allen said, warming up to the thought. "If the European branch executes me first, then that will-"

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Allen Walker!" Kanda shouted, pushing Allen even further up against the table, his face fierce and glittering with fury. "There's no way we'd-"

"Well what else am I good for?" He screamed back. Kanda stumbled backward, barely managing to catch his balance on the back of the couch. "I can't work, I can't fight, I might as well be dead!"

A sharp crack rang out through the apartment, and for a second Allen didn't realize what had just happened. He felt the sting, and he saw the hardwood of their apartment floor, but the implications of it-the sound, the sight, the pain-didn't compute. Not until he slowly reached up to touch his cheek, already reddening-Kanda's slap had been swift and unforgiving.

It was then he realized that, sometime during his and Kanda's argument, Lavi had woken up and was staring at the two of them, wide-eyed, from the hallway.

"Listen to me well, you stupid beansprout, because I'm only going to say this once." The samurai in front of him growled, while Allen gazed uncomprehendingly at Lavi. He tore his gaze away from the redhead, too surprised to do anything more than blink dumbly at the swordsman. "You are not weak, you are not useless, and-" Kanda's whole face twitched, as though he were in pain. "I-I respect. You. A little."

Allen's jaw actually dropped at that.

Rallying himself, Kanda continued, "But right now, you're-actually I lied, I don't respect you anymore. Not with this fucking attitude you've got going on. What did Mana say to you?"

At first, Allen thought that it was a rhetorical question. But as the silence sharpened, and as Kanda's glare took on a more reproachful edge, he hurried to supply, "He told me to keep walking."

Kanda shifted back on his heels, a satisfied smirk crossing his features. "That's right, Allen Walker."

"Allen…" Lavi said quietly, and Allen jumped, having forgotten about the Bookman Junior essentially the second he'd noticed him. His footsteps were quiet and unobtrusive as he hesitantly toed his way across the room, stopping when his fingertips gently ghosted across the table. He looked hesitant, uncertain, as though he were no longer sure of his own welcome.

Allen shrank back a little from the Bookman junior, feeling equally confused about exactly where their friendship stood, now that the air was somewhat cleared.

Lavi's eyes darkened a little at the subtle movement, perhaps with hurt-but then he shook his hair from his eye, and softened his expression. Clearly they still had a long way to go before everything would be alright. "Allen, you don't need to be useful for us to-to want to protect you."

"But don't you see?" Allen whispered tremulously, looking away from the two of them. "Bao Lei won't stop until I'm dead. I can run as much as I want, but one day she's going to catch up. She's far too determined to just let me live in peace. And I won't-I won't run anymore. I can't."

Kanda's face twisted into a frustrated snarl. "So what, you're just planning on giving up?"

"Yes." He answered reflexively, then sighed angrily at himself at his own cowardice, "No! I'm not giving up, I'm just-it's better for the Order if I'm dead."

"Are you really that selfish, that you think all our problems will be solved if you decide to make a noble sacrifice?" Lavi cut in bitingly, startling Allen with the intensity of his words. He looked momentarily regretful, but powered on with dogged shake of his head. "Right now the conflict is being focused on you, but if you decided to remove yourself from the playing field, then the conflict will shift to something or someone else. Bao Lei is only hunting you because she thinks that your death would put her in power."

Allen resisted the urge to turn away and hide his face in his hand again-it wouldn't help any of them if he panicked. His fingers drummed an unsteady rhythm at his side, like the pounding of his thoughts, and he was only marginally aware of both Lavi and Kanda watching his unsettled movements with keen eyes. Finally he implored, "So I can't kill myself, I can't run, I can't fight-what should I do?"

"Let us help you." Lavi quipped immediately. "Let us watch your back, and let Komui and the others take care of Bao Lei. Believe that you have a future that doesn't depend on your usefulness to the Order."

"I can guarantee that nobody can get past my sword." Kanda said firmly, his hand straying to the hilt of the katana at his side. "Give me your back, and I'll give you my protection."

"And I'll give you my mind." Lavi added in, which caused Allen to give him a small, unsure smile. The Bookman Junior shot an equally small but fierce smile back, more confident now that he was farther away from his own problems. "We can help you, Allen. But you need to trust us."

And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?

Allen didn't know if he'd ever be able to trust another person again, not after the catastrophe that had been his relationship with Mana. He sometimes hated himself for never quite being able to give himself completely to another person-Lenalee and Master Cross, to name a few-but he had had enough betrayals in his lifetime that the habit had felt justified. He had learned, after countless years of traveling on his own and doing everything on his own, that his greatest and only ally was himself.

(And even that had become circumspect, when the Fourteenth was still living in his-

No, stop. Don't think about it, don't you dare.)

Right now, Lavi and Kanda were standing before him, imploring him to let them handle his protection. They were asking him to do as he'd never been able to do before-to trust them wholeheartedly, even beyond his own judgement. He didn't know if he could manage it, even if he tried, especially with his and Lavi's argument still so close. And what reason did they have to want to protect him, anyway? Allen had been an enemy to them more often than not during the war. There was no reason for him to have their forgiveness, and yet-

-it'd be so easy, to just let everyone else handle the war.

Besides, he was tired. And if Kanda and Lavi thought that they could protect him, then, well-Allen could pretend, for a little while, that they actually wanted to.

It wouldn't hurt to let them try.

Allen let his shoulders droop, and closed his eye, breathing deeply through his nose. He could do this, he could.

"Then," He murmured, and curved his back into a low, formal bow, "I'll entrust my care to you."