Karma

Disclaimer: I don't own D.Gray-Man because Lavi is so out of character THANKS FOR THAT REVIEW DANTE. Ahaha. Bring Bookman Lavi back… he was cool.

Short chapter today.

"Lavi…"

It had been three months since that fateful day. They spent most of their time traveling around; there didn't seem to be much of a pattern to their movements except the inevitable return to a battlefield. The sight of mangled and blackened bodies never once turned her stomach like his actions on the first night had done, but it made her less comfortable than she realized. These mortal beings had felt power with guns in their hands, yet they still faced the inevitable embrace of death.

Sometimes, she longed for it too.

"Lavi." Her fingers reached out to tug on his sleeve, like a small child reaching for his mother.

"What." He sounded bored, and didn't bother to face her. They had arrived in a small French town, near the Mediterranean Sea – a beautiful location, wedged between tall proud mountains and the glittering water. She almost wished she had forever to appreciate it.

"It's… nothing, it's nothing." She'd just wanted his attention, that was all. He seemed to notice this.

"Road, I have other things to pay attention to, more important than you."

Once, she would have been indignant at that comment, yet now she merely settled back, a step behind him, continuing at the walking pace that he had set from the train station. Even sharing his bed every night, she was barely worthy…

They continued in silence until they reached another inn.

This one was clean, and bright; there was no bar on the lower level, and the rooms were filled with natural light and featured large, open windows. She almost laughed at that; she had all the freedom she wanted, now, yet she would not escape. She had never even tried.

He tossed his traveling bag on the bed and promptly left the room. He didn't tell her where he was going – he hadn't for a long time, now – and she didn't ask. He would be back eventually. Instead, she retired to an adjacent room for a long, warm bath, always a comfort to her and a tribute to her female nature.

It was here that she could truly relax and be free from her constant worries and fears, her anger and self-condemnation, and that never-ending tension that she felt when around him. It was here that she could wash away the sweat from her body that had coated it every night, and would do so again this night. Her sweat, and his. It was here that she examined her pale body for the marks that inevitably would appear nearly every day, marks from the activities of nights before. It made her feel fragile to see them.

With a content sigh, she lowered herself into the warm water and let her long hair float around her. She could have stayed like this for hours…

And she did. Her fingertips were wrinkled by the time she returned back to her room, still garbed in a thin white dress, with her hair tied up on her head and dripping cooled water down the back of her neck. He had returned, as she expected, and was sprawled over the bed, quietly reading.

She said nothing, only moved to sit down next to him and smile. He did not return it. He never did, but she was not bothered by it.

In the morning, he disappeared again, before she awoke. She couldn't recall a time when she had awoken to see his sleeping face – or his face at all, for that matter. Sometimes she thought of asking him to stay, even for a little bit, or to wake her up before he left – but she never did. He had his duties, and it would be a sign of weakness on her part anyway. One time, she had suggested that they go for breakfast together, and he'd called it a "selfish desire" on her part; it would not really benefit them in any way. She'd been quiet after that.

Today, she dressed quickly and walked down to the edge of the cliffs. The timeless crashing of the waves on the rocks that the town was built on was peaceful, and she sat there for a long time, appreciating the eternal quality that it lent to the world. It was nice to know that some things would not change. Too many things had, in her life. Even he'd changed from the person she once knew.

He once wanted stability, too. He wanted to stay a Bookman as he had for all of his life, and was scared of the change that he was feeling. The care he felt for his friends was a new experience, one that he never should have felt. She smiled gently to herself; she knew as well as any that these feelings could not be controlled! She'd tried to, once, yet had slowly come to accept them as a thing that must be used to achieve her own goals. Apparently, he'd learned that, too.

He liked stability.

And suddenly, peering down at the waves, she felt a strange desire to see the cliffs below her fall into those dark waters and be consumed…

She pulled back, alarmed at the familiarity of this feeling. There had been a time when she craved change, before all this had begun. She'd been lured into accepting her power with soothing words that whispered to her of all the changes that would occur. She'd believed them, hoped for them, dreamed of them – and then everything was perfect. She had a family. She had power. What more needed to change?

And things did – and then she had neither. And now she didn't even have a home to return to…

The reddish-gold rays of the setting sun struck her face and she found herself surprised that it had become so late already. With a forlorn sigh, she began to stand up, ready to return to the inn to meet him for the night-

-and stopped. The spark that the waves had inspired had developed into a longing for change, in some way. Tonight, she would make a change, just for tonight. She would not return. She would stay here, outside, under the stars, where change was occurring in front of her eyes.

She spent the sleepless night on the patio of a small café, sipping tea and watching the waves break on the rocks of the cliff.

In the morning, she returned to the inn.

She had half expected him to look for her the previous night, when she did not return, but he had not. He must be asleep, she thought. It was very early, and he might not be awake. If he was, he would probably have left by now and things would be no different than every morning.

That one night had inspired her, but it had made her realize how lonely she really was. Five years of wandering, without real companionship, her family dead or long gone, somewhere, and she had been desperate for the first familiar face to come along. She really had fallen into his trap… and she did not regret it. No matter how badly he treated her, she needed him. It was a depressing thought, but… well, he needed her too, didn't he? That's why he always returned each morning.

Each day was the same, and she liked that.

But instead of an empty room, she found a familiar scene – from the wrong perspective.

There, in her bed, was Lavi. And there, lying next to him, although there was no contact between them, was a beautiful dark-haired young woman, completely nude. She was not Road.

She could not speak. She could not even think.

His face, calm and emotionless, was the last thing she saw as her legs gave out from under her and she fell to the cold wooden floor.