Thank you to all the people who've been so patient and sent me a review urging me to get off my arse and actually do more on this story.

The rewrite of this was going to be far longer and different what not- I'd done it about a year and a half back, but I lost the document. Then I dropped the story. Anyway.

Read on!

Chapter 4

The small light in the room silhouetted Allen's face as he lay on his side, his face shoved into his pillow. He moaned slightly in his sleep as his comfortable dreams of all you can eat mitrashi dango buffets slipped in to the realm of memories.

The wind carried the far away sounds of the circus towards to two figures on the moor. The wind bit chill and icy at them, nippy at noses and through thin clothing; much like a suspicious fishwife would her husband, minus, of course, the screeching.

"Mana?" The brown haired boy looked up at the clown, a question in his eyes.

"Yes Allen?" The clown smiled down at his ward and pocketed his juggling balls.

"Why do people find me scary? Why do the throw rocks and run away? I'm not scary, why do people run away when they see me? Why do they run Mana?" Allen's six year old voice was plaintive with worry beyond his years. Mana sighed and sat down on a convenient rock. Allen sat beside him, arms around his legs.

"People are fools Allen, they're un-purposeful clowns without the make up. You're new and different and not like them. You should be thank full for that you're not the same as them; they are ignorant and scared of anything that they don't understand or don't think are the same as them. Allen you're not scary, they're just stupid. They just don't know you, and they don't know who you are." The clown paused, pulled out his juggling balls and began idly juggling them, satisfied that his ward's fears had been allayed.

Allen frowned, at these words and shook his head sadly. "It's my arm isn't it Mana? People are afraid of my arm." Allen looked down at his left arm, the red hand with its black finger nails, the cross and the grey skin at the shoulder. "Is that why my parents ran away? They were scared of my arm weren't they? They were sacred of my arm and my red hand and the green cross and the gay skin of my shoulder." The child's eyes were overbright, threatening silent tears. Mana looked at him, meeting his eyes and sighed heavily, letting the juggling balls fall neatly into one hand. Obviously, this would take more than just what he already said.

"Your parents ran away because they were stupid and ignorant, afraid of anything that they didn't understand, without the intelligence or compassion to try to understand it. Do you find me scary with my clown make up on?" He asked with a seriousness that was not quite belied by the small twinkle of humour in his eyes.

Allen shook his head fiercely, brown locks flying. "Nuh uh!"

"And why is that?"

"Because it's just make up Mana! You're still Mana underneath it!" Allen stated the words with an increduolous matter of factness that only children could master.

"Exactly. But people who don't know that sometimes get scared of me when I have my makeup on."

"Well they're stupid." Said Allen, and Mana laughed.

"Exactly. It's the same with your arm. People who are stupid and don't understand are scared. Those who are intelligent are not. Only intelligent people are worth your time Allen."

Allen nodded at these sincere words and gave Mana a hug. Mana got to his knees and ruffled his wards hair, sure that the boy's worries had been put to rest.

All the same, he noticed that next morning, Allen wore long sleeves and a pair of gloves.

Allen's eyes blinked open, unseeing, staring at the night-grey ceiling of his room.

"Mana" he whispered.

And fell back into his memories.

"MANA!" The boy sobbed over the clown's broken body lying by the side of the road. Limbs were twisted the wrong way and Mana's breath rattled his body, punctuated by pain wheezes.

Mana looked faintly at Allen, a strange glaze coming into his poignant blue eyes.

"You have an aura around you Allen, it's so bright. So beautiful, an aura of pure. All white light. I wish I had an aura as pretty as that, it almost sparkles Allen, It almost sparkles. But where's Neah? He promised he'd be here. Have you seen him? He had sparkles like you. I only saw them on the smoke though. I miss the smoke."

Mana smiled beatifically at Allen, his strange smile scaring the ten year old boy.

"Mana, stop talking like that you're frightening me. Don't talk like that."

Mana continued to smile in that strange way. "I am going to die Allen, I think I am going to die, I just got hit by a road train and I can't feel my legs. Neah told me to stay off the smoke, but then he left and you came along. It's funny Allen, You have an aura around you, it's so pretty, I wish I had one like yours. You remind me of Neah. Where's Neah?"

Allen shook his head resolutely, scared by what Mana was saying

"No Mana, you're not going to die, don't die Mana, don't die." Allen shook the clown's body harshly, with all the force his young body could muster. For a moment, lucidity came back into Mana's eyes and he frowned at Allen.

"It's too late Allen, I'm too far gone. Stop. Please. You'll have to go on without me. You'll have to keep walking."

"Mana stop saying those things!" begged Allen

The clown raised one hand with heavy effort and raised it to Allen's head, resting there only a moment before it dropped again, the effort to much for the dying man. "Let me go Allen. I need to find Neah. I had to tell him something, something about a dog, a boy, a dog, the earl, musician. I can't quite remember. It hurts Allen. It hurts." The glaze came back into his eye, "Your aura's back Allen." He smiled again, wrong and sweet and pained, "I'm tiered. Why are you full of light. There's someone behind your face. It looks like Neah. Pretty."

The clown closed his eyes gently, the smile still on his face. "Remember to practise you juggling." he murmured peacefully.

Mana's heart stopped beating and a heart rendering scream tore through the twilight that was descending on the land.

In his sleep Allen twisted about, accidently sending his puppy flying to the floor with a pained yelp. The insidious memories curled about him, sending him deeper into the throws of loss.

"Mana I miss you so much, I wish that you would come back. Why did you have to cross that road? I miss you Mana."

Allen sat before the grave of his mentor and adopted father. Memories floated before him, flashed through his mind like swallows. The snow fell gently on his kneeling body as he rocked himself to and fro.

He can't be dead. Not Mana. Not Mana. He might be still alive. He must be still alive. What if he was running out of air? What if he woke in the dark and Allen wasn't there. Mana couldn't be dead. It just had to be a trick.

With a pained cry, he flung himself over the grave, and in a fit of madness, began thrusting his hands into the dirt and freezing snow in a hysterical attempt to dig up the only father he'd ever known.

And here is where the memory twisted away from him, the real turn of events becoming nightmarish as the unconscious took over and deformed it, making it luridly and terrifyingly unreal.

The grounder trembled and cracked underneath Allen's desperate fists and he was frozen in place as he watched a hand reach out from the ground, and then another, a head soon following. Soon Mana's entire body was standing in front of Allen and he kneeled in hope and horror. Mana's breathing was rasping horribly in his throat, like finger nails on a chalkboard. His skin was waxy and the pallor of death held their mark on him, the snow that fell on him stayed frozen on his corpse cold body. The maggots and worms had not yet got to him, but even so time was degrading his body and his bones were stark against his wasted flesh. The skin pealed back from him in places to show a metal skeleton beneath. But Allen saw none of this; he only saw Mana's emaciated face, the ghost of a smile still on his lips.

"Allen" rasped Mana, his head lolled around to look at his former ward.

"Mana!" Allen cried joyously. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled forward to embrace his resurrected mentor.

"No Allen" Mana's breath rattled in his throat has he spoke these halting words, his voice un-muffled by the snow that was falling. Allen halted, confused.

"Mana?" he asked cautiously

"What have you done?"

"I, I saved you" Allen stuttered. "I raised you"

"What have you done Allen!" Mana's scream was sudden and horrifying. Allen stumbled backwards at the onslaught of his terror, fear rising in his throat like bile, hot and bitter.

"You have condemned me! What have you done?" He screams rose ever higher, terrifying Allen

"No Mana! I saved you!" Cried Allen, his eyes were wide and his brown hair was flying wildly.

"Send me back Allen, Kill me, send me BACK!" Mana's hands flew forward reaching for the boy, trying to enclose his throat in their fingers, "I don't want to kill you Allen, SO SEND ME BACK!" The clown's screams were renting the twilight air just as Allen's had a week ago.

"No! I can't! I don't want to be alone again Mana! I'm not going to be alone again!" Allen scrambled backwards, still shaking his head wildly, oblivious to the fact that his legs were hot and damp from a fear relived bladder.

"Then I curse you Allen! I curse you. I CURSE YOU! I CURSE YOU! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER RAISED YOU! YOU'VE BETRAYED ME ALLEN!"

A flash of light from behind Allen's eyes stunned him, then pain lanced through his left eye and he blacked out. He fell in a heap at the foot of a black headstone.

A shot rang out in the night.

Someone screamed

And black crows tumbled from their nests too flee, like harbingers of doom.

"Stupid boy. You tried to raise him. Get up."

"NO!" Allen sat bolt upright in bed, tumbled from his nightmarish memories and bathed in cold sweat.

Timcampy grumbled to himself as Allen's wayward left hand knocked him off the bed and onto the floor. Tim curled up where he lay and promptly started to snore. His paws twitching as he dreamt of biting off Kanda's leg.

Allen slid down the head board of his king sized bed and onto his pillow, the memories all too vivid in his mind's eye. He sighed heavily. He hoped that he would not relive any more memories tonight but he was reluctant to go to sleep to find out. He glanced at the clock, expecting it to be about five am.

It was one in the morning

He moaned, the memories had begun earlier than usual. He looked at the clock again, one minute past one. Being far too early to get up and having no desire to go to sleep again, he picked up his pencils and drawing pad from the bedside table, turned on his lamp and began to draw, line's spiralling across the page in a frenzy of inspiration and inexplicable creative muse to which he lost himself to.

Allen blinked groggily; there was a light shining in his eyes. He raised his hand to shield his face from the far too intense light while his eyes adjusted to the sudden increase in brightness when a far more pressing pain was heralded with a cry of, "ARRRGHHHH!"

Allen had just stabbed himself in the eye with a paint brush.

"Owwwww" He whined softly to himself as he sat up carefully. The drawing that he had finished and started water colouring was on his lap, his water colours and paint brushes on the bedside table, unwashed and not yet dry.

Allen had somehow managed to fall asleep while painting. He bent his head to look at the unfinished water colour. It was of a man, golden skinned and shirtless, he was standing in a fern frilled lagoon. Tawny bangs fell over a face whose eyes were closed and lips that were parted slightly, as if singing softly. Allen's breath stilled in his throat. This man was beautiful. He looked like a god. A golden skinned god.

Allen picked up his paint brush again, the urge to paint rose up in him like an unstoppable wave. His fingers twitched and jittered. He had to finish this painting now. He had to.

The plants fringing the lagoon became shades of emerald, vibrant grass and vivid green. The lagoon became a shade of azure with soft blue light filtering through its waters. The blank space behind the golden man became a flowing waterfall that hinted of a secret hidden space beyond. The sky was black velvet speckled with silver pinpricks of light. The man's white shirt lay rumpled at the edge of the pool as if he had dropped it carelessly there before entering the water.

It was the best painting that Allen had ever done and he caught his breath as he held it up before him. A strange wave of longing reverberated through him as he stared at the painted figure. This man was beautiful, and Allen was no stranger to beauty. It was inescapable when travelling with Master Cross. But desire, now that was an altogether different kettle of fish. Allen had never felt desire, or lust before. Sure, he'd gotten horny, but then, what 17 male hadn't?

The memories would be worth it if he could paint even half this well afterwards. The completion of the painting had brought a strange, calm, peace like state on Allen. He expelled a long, satisfied sigh and tenderly placed the painting down where it would have no chance of being wreaked. He looked down to where Timcampy still slept and smiled gently to himself. He carefully picked up the puppy so as not to wake Tim and placed the canine down beside him before lying down and falling asleep.

Alright! Read and review people, read and review.

- yeah, I know, no plot movement. Oh well, enjoy all the pretty description. (also, if you know who the man in the painting is, hint, it's an actual character, then kudos to you.)