Chapter 4: Train Ride to Perdition

Last Chapter: Kanda turned and, shooting one last unbearably arrogant look in Allen's direction, walked off the edge of the overpass to fall into the night air. Booted feet slammed into the top of the passenger car and several passengers screamed. Allen twitched with indignation at the fact that, by a gross twist of fate, it was he, not Lavi, partnered with Kanda for this mission. It was then, as the white-haired exorcist and Finder plunged toward the train, that Allen realized; I still don't know what this mission is about.

Seconds after his rather belated realization bath exorcists and the Finder had their feet planted firmly, if such a word could apply, on the slick metal roofing of a passenger car and were listening to the consternated shouting of the travelers inside. Allen sighed; it seemed that, no matter how many times an exorcist had descended from on high to dent the roofs, the porters and waiters of the train companies saw no reason to give advance warning to the ticket-holders. He never had the opportunity to follow through on that particular train of thought because he became self-consciously aware of two sets of eyes boring into his oblivious form. Allen blinked at his comrades blankly and was rewarded with a veritable spasm of frustrated impatience from Kanda.

"Are you stupid, Bean Sprout?" the obnoxious swordsman snarled. "You're closest to the hatch. Are you going to open it so we can get in, or are you just going to stare at us until we do it ourselves?"

Allen batted his lashes thickly for a few seconds while his mind, still distracted, struggled to process the new information. His pale gray eyes turned downward and a small corner of his brain took note of the heavy steel trap-door and latch. "Oh," was all he said as a pale rosy blush dusted itself across his cheeks. A vein sprang to angry life on the other exorcist's brow and one of his claw-like hands reached in the direction of Mugen's leather-bound hilt, but before Kanda had the time to do something rash and quite possibly dangerous, Allen bent over and applied himself with simple but diligent concentration to the task of opening the hatch. A few minutes later, the Black Order disciples had reached a rather unhappy conclusion: the trap-door, which had allowed the entrance of so many exorcists before them, was welded shut. I guess the train companies did do something about us disturbing the passengers all the time, Allen thought and would have been amused if he hadn't been standing on a plate of metal twelve feet above the ground and moving at around fifty miles-per-hour. He examined the hatch again, his eyes following the smooth, nearly invisible seam of welded metal that traced the around the edges of the only entrance, then glanced back up at his two compatriots. The Finder seemed to have accepted the fact stoically and had resigned himself to the worst. Kanda, on the other hand, had the manic, fixed expression generally seen on the face of a religious zealot when faced with a heathen non-believer, and the carefully banked fiery rage in his dark blue-grey eyes promised the entire world in general that, if the hatch didn't open in the near future, say, the next two seconds, the entire train car was going to become, suddenly and irreversible, convertible. Allen had seen that look before: about two seconds before the mercurial swordsman sheared a level-2 akuma into two perfectly equal halves.

"Ano, Kanda?" Allen began worriedly. "I really don't think that cutting a hole in the top of the car-"

"Is exactly what I'm going to do," came Kanda's implacable tones, the finality of the words giving even death a run for its money.

"No, wait--!" Allen cried out, but Mugen was already half-buried in the steel roof. The passengers began screaming in earnest as the blade tore through the thick metal as though it was paper with a noise like the howl of a tortured cat. A perfectly circular plate of roof fell into the compartment with a ringing metallic clang. Kanda sheathed Mugen reverently then dropped into the car. The Finder and Allen exchanged worried looks and followed with the intent of behaving as damage control. Inside, Kanda was brushing flecks of metal dust off of the shoulders of his coat--that's amazing, Inner Allen burbled, he never put it on and yet it is still there--and a nervous porter was trying to explain just why it was unacceptable to have exorcists dropping through unexpected holes in the ceiling like ripe fruit. Allen intervened because he felt that, if he didn't, the porter was going to take on the same appearance as the roof: that is, more hole than person.

"Excuse me, sir," the cursed boy interjected in the slight pause in the porter's monologue created by the man's inescapable need to breathe. "We have a reservation." The little man puffed and sputtered like an overblown bag pipe until finally some words were discernable.

"Be as that may--puff, puff--there is no excuse--cough, wheeze--for cutting holes in the ceiling!"

"The hatch. It was locked." Kanda's words were frigid enough to put a glacier to shame. Their effect: the porter's jaw snapped shut with an audible click and the little man scurried out of the car in an impressively accurate impression of a fleeing rat.

"We'll show ourselves to our compartment!" Allen called after him. Kanda just humph-ed and marched off in the direction of the first-class cars with the more sensitive exorcist and the Finder trailing along behind.

They settled into the plush compartment uncomfortably; their clothes were still wet and were sticking and chafing awfully. Allen sat gingerly on the very edge of his seat so that the fabric covering the backs of his legs would dry out more quickly. The silence between the trio lengthened and became, for two of them at least, more awkward. The Finder cleared his throat softly before sending out careful words to break the still air and to tread on the perilous and much-debated grounds of social civility.

"I'm afraid we've never been properly introduced," the white-clad man small talked. "My name is Samuel, but everyone calls me Sam--." The man seemed oblivious of the fact that Kanda had no interest in listening and that Allen had zoned out, choosing to focus on his own thoughts, which centered on the other, more acerbic exorcist. How on earth did he keep that coat from falling off his shoulders when it's just hanging there with nothing to hold it up? His arms aren't even in the sleeves. Maybe he hooked it under his sward belt. No, no coat under there. Just skin. And muscle. A nice, flat, toned stomach...I didn't just think that, did I? No, no, of course not. He's just another exorcist. He probably got those muscles and that trim figure from working with Mugen. I mean, wielding a sword like that must be hard... Allen shook himself lightly in an attempt to warn himself away from those dangerous thoughts. I wonder how he manages to wield his sword with that broken arm? Something that long h to be unwieldy and heavy--at this point Allen groaned in horror. I'm helpless.

Just then, the cursed exorcist noticed that the steady background drone of the Finder's voice had ceased. He glanced up to figure out what was going on. Both Kanda and the Finder--what's his name again? Oh, yeah, Sam--were giving him an odd look. Allen stared back in confusion.

"Is there something wrong, Allen-san?" Sam queried, his tone implying that, yes, there was.

"No, nothing," Allen assured him. Samuel spared him one last concerned glance before continuing with what he had been saying earlier.

"So, we just have to stay on this train for approximately ten more hours and then its just two or three hours on foot to the estate. I think you'd both be more comfortable if you let your clothes dry out. If you take them off, I'll hang them to dry above the fire in the boiler car." Allen looked stunned. He opened his mouth to protest when Kanda's wet uniform coat slopped onto the seat next to him. Oh, please tell me he's not--Allen prayed fervently. A leather boot skidded across the floor, sloshing noisily and spreading a puddle of water, to join the jacket. Horrified, Allen looked up at Kanda and regretted it immediately. Kanda was slouched low in his seat, a look of mild concentration usurping the usual scowl on his face. His chest was bare and shimmering with the droplets of water that fell from the thick stands of midnight hair like stars from the firmament. The flesh of his belly and lower ribs was mercifully hidden by the bandages the white-haired boy had used to wrap the Japanese boy's mostly healed ribs, but his pants had slid down to cling to his narrow hips and his sword-belt was lower still, revealing a strip of lightly-bronzed skin. And the pants--ah, the pants. It seemed that the sleek, thigh-high boots that had sheathed Kanda's long legs only moments ago didn't leave much room for pants underneath. As a result, the black fabric left to cover the swordsman's legs now that the boots were gone was revealed to be very thin and very, very tight. The only thing keeping them from descending into the realm of positively indecent was the thick white belt supporting Mugen, which rode low on his hips or high on his thighs, depending on how one chose to look at it. Allen couldn't bring himself to breathe as Kanda shucked off his other boot, his skilled hands tracing the contours of his muscular leg as he peeled of the leather. The cursed exorcist swallowed hard, his mouth dry, and the boot landed with a soft thump next to its mate.

"Are you sure you are well?" the voice of the Finder pulled Allen out of his Kanda-induced haze.

"Y-Yes!" the flustered teen gasped and began fumbling with the clasps of his own hooded cloak. It joined Kana's in a sodden heap of black and silver. Allen's little neck-tie and white shirt followed soon after. Goosebumps sprang up when the cool air of the train compartment kissed his already-chilled, damp flesh.The smaller exorcist's hands hesitated on the buckle of his pants until Kanda shot him a challengingly arch look.

"So modest," the foul-dispositioned teen mocked lightly. Allen glared at him and stripped out of his wet trousers, leaving himself clad only in his black cotton boxers. He wasn't sure what he was most embarrassed of at this point; the fact that everyone could see his cursed arm with its bloody red skin, something he'd always been ashamed of, or the fact that he was wearing only his boxers in a public place. He blushed, and stormy blue eyes assessed him critically.

"I guess those weren't your boxers after all," Kana remarked in a suspiciously mild tone, his voice still managing to be a sultry purr of suppressed laughter. Allen glared again, unable to think of a snappy comeback.

"Would you like me to dry your pants, too, Kanda-san?" Sam asked patiently while waiting for the two exorcists to stop bickering.

"No," Kanda said flatly.

"So modest," Allen quipped, parroting back the Japanese teen's earlier words while grinning triumphantly. Bastard. Let's see you get out of that! Inner Allen howled while doing a victory jig. Kanda's face went blank and he stared at the white-haired young man for a while. Than he stood and hooked one thumb into the waistband of those tight pants. The belt still rode low over his hips. One dark brow quirked suggestively and the blue-eyed beauty slowly eased the edge down to expose the smooth skin just below his right hip, then stopped. Allen frowned and gazed at the now rather large patch of flesh between then the other boy's pants and the bandages.

"Too shy to take those pants off?" Allen grinned at the other exorcist, sticking to his guns even though something was telling him that all was not well. Kanda's expression registered nonplussed surprise. The elder exorcist heaved a theatrical sigh and slid the hem down another inch or so. Allen's smooth brow wrinkled in thought. Why isn't he rising to the bait? And why isn't he just giving up the pants? His eyes remained focused on the pale skin. Wait a minute... Shouldn't there be...something...underneath...? Allen turned his back so quickly that his now-bare heel got a friction burn from the train compartment's smooth floor. Kanda could see that the tips of the younger teen's ears and the entirety of the back of his neck were scorchingly red, set off nicely by the rosy tint that brushed across the pale exorcist's shoulders.

"Ah," Samuel said in the awkward quiet. "That was unexpected. And with that, the Finder swept from the compartment with an armful of wet clothing to join the rest of the already-drying luggage. Allen, who still had his back to the unabashed swordsman, could hear Kanda sink down onto his seat. A faint rattle told the cursed boy that Mugen had been moved.

"Are you going to stand there forever?" came Kanda's disinterested tones. Allen jumped slightly and folded himself rather ungracefully into the seat opposite the aloof teen, as far from the other boy as possible in the train compartment. Even in the first-class cars there was only so much room available. Kanda was sitting with his legs crossed at the knee and held Mugen at an angle across his chest. Wet black hair, shining like ink, spilled over his shoulder and was dripping steadily on Kanda's thigh. That can't be nearly as comfortable as he pretends, Allen thought, eyeing the other teen suspiciously. If he laid across the seats he could drape his hair over the edge so it dripped on the floor. The cursed teen paused in his thinking momentarily to visualize that idea. Yes. Because that's ever going to happen. As if in response to his thoughts, Kanda squirmed minutely and moved his hair over his other shoulder, then uncrossed his legs to slouch down on the seat so that his chin rested on his chest, his rump sat on the very edge of the seat, and his knees spread shoulder-width apart. The swordsman's eyes fluttered shut. Allen gulped. The white belt was getting tantalizingly close to sliding off those sharply angled hips.

Change the subject, change the subject, Allen whimpered frantically. Hah! "So, Kanda?" the younger teen chirped. "Our mission. What is it?" A single dark eye slitted open and fixed him with a baleful gaze.

"Don't you read?" The swords master rumbled without moving. Allen sweat dropped and chuckled nervously.

"Well, I was going to read it on the train, so I packed it in the bag. And...Um...you know how the bags got wet?" Allen pulled a bedraggled dossier out from behind the seat and proffered it to Kanda. The folder fell open, revealing page after page of crinkled, ripped, ink stained text. "It's not really in any condition to be read." Kanda stared at him for a while longer, then closed his eyes firmly once more to ignore the other boy. "So you're not going to tell me?" Allen's voice was somewhere between desperately hysterical and bloody furious.

"Nn," was the response. Allen had the vivid image of himself squeezing Kanda with his activated Innocence until the swordsman's head popped off like the top of an overcooked sausage. The compartment door slid open and the white-haired boy, not willing to waste a perfectly good glare, turned his expression on to the unwelcome intruder. The porter--that's the same man Kanda frightened off earlier, his memory supplied--flinched.

"Iwasjustwonderingifyouwanteddinner," the porter's words tumbled out in an unintelligible rush. Kanda's eyes opened long enough to cast a baleful stare at the man; apparently Kanda hadn't forgotten who the man was, either. Allen just blinked slowly at the cowering man-rat.

"Excuse me?" Allen said after a while when it became clear that the porter was waiting for some sort of an answer.

"Its 8:30 and the dinner service is going to close soon. Your reservations include meals and I was sent to ask if you wanted anything off the menu." The trembling man proffered the menu like a peace offering. Allen opened it and studied its contents.

"Yes, I'd like to have--"

"Soba. And tea."

The cursed teen sighed; Kanda only had manners when he felt like it, and it seemed that this was not one of those times. The nervous porter scrawled the raven-haired boy's order on a little scrap of paper procured from an unseen pocket, then turned to Allen.

"I'd like chicken alfredo, lasagna, curry, and two dim sum," the younger exorcist listed slowly. The porter nodded and made as if to leave. "Wait! I'm not done yet!" Allen protested. The paper reappeared in the man's hand. "Also, clam chowder, a ceaser salad, a slice each of the chocolate and raspberry cheesecakes, and a hot chocolate. And a slice of apple pie. With ice cream. And some rolls. And a baked potato," he added as an afterthought. Eyes bulging slightly, the man turned and left the compartment with almost unseemly haste.

The white-haired teen glanced at Kanda. The Japanese exorcist had rearranged himself sometime during Allen's order and he was now wedged into the corner of the compartment with his legs stretched out on the seats. He looked like he could stay there for an eternity, if need be.

"So. About the mission..." Allen prodded gently. Kanda's toes curled slightly. "Sam said that a lot of Finders died. This train is going to northern England. Would you care to explain the connection between those two details?" The older exorcist's foot twitched. "No, huh?"

Allen leaned back in his seat and stared out the window at the vague shapes that flitted by in the dark like ghosts. Haunting, aching silence stretched out in his soul, unfurling toward infinity in a dazzle of every color and none at all. The cursed teen's eyes rolled up and he fainted, his head bouncing off the glass with an ugly crack.

Kanda sat up quickly, disturbed from his reverie by the unexpected noise and deep blue eyes cut to the other boy. The white-haired boy lay crumpled on the carpeted floor of the compartment, his limbs spamming slightly from the strength of the blow to his head. The Japanese teen bit off a curse and rushed to his side. He racked his mind for any knowledge relating to women and how to revive them from their thrice-damned fainting spells. Kanda swiftly came to the conclusion that he might, perhaps, benefit from more social interaction and, just as rapidly, discarded it. Seconds later he hit mental gold and fanned the unconscious boy with one hand. Allen stirred faintly and squirmed in Kanda's general direction. The swordsman's eyebrow twitched and he gritted his teeth. One hand slapped down on Allen's right cheek with a resounding pop. Pale grey eyes fluttered open and met Kanda's belligerent stare. The white-haired teen blinked disorientedly.

"What happened?" Allen slurred. Kanda lost his temper and slapped the newly awakened boy again for good measure. "What the hell?" the cursed boy exclaimed, already retaliating by slapping back. The swordsman's head rocked to one side and his thick bangs flopped forward to obscure his eyes. "Oh my god, what have I done?" Allen yelped, his voice rather high-pitched. Kanda growled something indeterminately threatening and seized the other boot's pale throat. Allen gurgled faintly just as the compartment door slid open again.

"Dinner is ser--," the porter cut himself off with a sob when Kanda gave him a look implying that the entire world was going to pay dearly for the insult he had just endured. A laden trolley stood abandoned in the hall outside. Steam rose gently from the covered dished it bore. Allen's stomach rumbled. The irritable black-haired teen glowered and stood suddenly, dusting himself off as though nothing had happened. The cursed teen rubbed his throat idly as he sat up and watched Kanda pull the trolled into the compartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I think this one's mine," Allen remarked cheerfully as he reached for one of the dishes. Kanda smacked him across the backs of his hands with Mugen and he white-haired boy pulled back swearing.

"What was that for?" he snarled, trying to rub some life back into his much-abused appendages. The arrogant exorcist shot his a withering look.

"Do you eat everything anyone brings you?" the swords master sighed. Allen considered this for a moment.

"Well, no. I don't really like mushrooms, so--"

"I think what Kanda-san is getting at is these dishes might be poisoned," Sam interjected, slipping unnoticed into the compartment. Well, unnoticed by Allen at least, who jumped when the Finder spoke, earning himself another ugly look from Kanda. "Are you aware that you are bleeding?" he continued, directing this comment to the cursed boy. Allen lifted his normal hand to his brow and frowned when it came away with the fingertips stained a sticky red.

"When did that happen?" the white-haired teen mused aloud.

"Maybe when you fainted like a woman and smacked your fool head on the glass," Kanda commented dryly. The younger exorcist gazed at him quizzically.

"I fainted?"

The waspish swordsman parted his lips to release an impressively vitriolic barb, but was reduced to emitting an indignant grunt when the Finder accidentally bumped the service trolley into his stomach. "I suppose it could happen," Sam considered, ignoring the hate-filled look the currently incapacitated Kanda was launching in his direction. "A parasite-type Innocence feeds on the energy of its host, so if the host is low on energy, for example, because he hasn't eaten for some time, then the Innocence could cause fainting by monopolizing the host's personal energy. When was the last time you ate, Allen?" finished the tall man as he turned to the cursed exorcist. "Allen--?" General Cross's 'prized' pupil looked up guiltily, part of a lasagna noodle depending from his mouth in a rather ridiculous fashion. The boy grinned sheepishly and consumed the rest of the noodle with a loud slurp. A vein bulged on Kanda's forehead. Sam hurried to keep the peace by quickly distributing the trolley's contents between the two exorcists. Allen continued to dig in like there was no tomorrow while Kanda opted to withdraw into the corner furthest away, where he cradled his tray of soba on his black-clad thighs and contented himself with the occasional dismissive flick of his chopsticks in Allen's general direction. The Finder sighed gloomily.

"At least this in an interesting mission," he murmured, more to convince himself that, yes, the torture of constantly standing between two exorcists who fought like cats and dogs and were unfortunately and distractingly lovely specimens of man-kind was worth the effort than anything else. Allen tipped his fork up and swallowed a huge mouthful; both the Finder and the other exorcist could see the incredible mass of food slide down the slender column of his pale throat. Kanda spared a moment to wonder how the little idiot hadn't choked to death long ago.

"That reminds me, again," the English boy said, tapping the tines of his fork against his lips. "Sam, Kanda wouldn't tell me what the mission was."

The Finder looked surprised. "I thought that informing you about what was going on was a part of Kanda's mission orders...?" The still-damp, raven-tressed exorcist leveled a glare on the poor man that would have frozen even Medusa into so much statuary. Nothing made Kanda angrier that the implication that he was shirking his duties. Especially when he was. Samuel's expression rearranged itself into something half triumphant, half apologetic, and entirely innocent. The Japanese man's breath hissed out and the half-clad exorcist shirted into his semi-attentive 'mission report pose,' his legs crossed at the knee and his fingers laced under his chin. The thick white belt migrated a few inches further down the swordsman's long, well-muscled legs.

"There's a mansion in the far northern part of England, about thirty miles north of Newcastle. A total of ten Finders were dispatched over a period of two weeks to investigate an old legend surrounding the place. None of them reported back except the tenth, who sent a garbled, broken message via his golem saying that he had found the previous nine dead. He did not say how they died, or where exactly they were; probably because the next thing on the golem's recording was the sound of screaming."

"And Komui thinks that there may be an Innocence there that is drawing the akuma?" Allen interjected. Kanda shook his head slightly, but Allen couldn't tell if that meant, no, there was no potential Innocence, or, no, Komui didn't think.

"That's what has Komui so worried," said Sam, taking over the thread of conversation. "There were reports of people going missing in the same area a few decades ago; that's why the villagers around the estate try to stay away from it. Finders and exorcists were dispatched then, too, but they didn't find anything, let alone an Innocence. The whole story was chalked up to people simply wandering into the forest bordering the estate and getting lost. The wolves at that time were quite numerous."

"So why are we being sent out now, if we already know that there is no Innocence there?" Allen asked, now getting frustrated by the raconteurish manner in which the facts of the mission were being presented. Kanda seized control of the narration with ease, his deep voice rough with some unidentified emotion. Probably anger, whispered that little voice in Allen's head, distracting him from what was being said. Or maybe he's in pain because hat little porter poisoned his tea. Kanda continued to speak.

"Komui reconsidered the earlier findings since there were no disappearances for nearly fifty years; not until they began again six months ago when a little girl wandered onto the estate. Wolves have to eat, so it is strange that nothing happened for half a century, then started happening again when there are few, if any, large predators anywhere in the vicinity. He sent us to either verify the prior conclusion or to find out the real truth. Either way, the situation needs to be controlled."

"And since the Finders kept vanishing, he sent someone a little harder to make disappear," the cursed teen concluded. There were nods of agreement from the dark exorcist and from Samuel. "So" Allen said slowly, mulling over the facts of the story. "We are simply trying to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, right?" Kanda made a strangled noise deep in his throat and, when he spoke, his voice was dripping with honey-sweet sarcasm.

"Amazing," the usually stolid swordsman ground out through the bared teeth of his maniacal grin. "It's nice to know that you have such fantastic powers of summation." Samuel snickered quietly, stifling the noise behind his hand. Allen's face donned a petulant expression and the first-class compartment's door slid open once more to reveal the same porter, who shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. A look of purest malice slid across Kanda's face, sly and slippery as an oil slick. The poor rodent-like man noticed and Allen mentally congratulated him for not wetting his pants then and there when he had so clearly become the railroad company's sacrificial goat.

"Yes?" Samuel prompted gently, taking pity on the man. Nobody in the world was paid enough to deal with Kanda's capricious, and notably vicious, moods. The porter swallowed hard and cleared his throat nervously, all the while darting anxious glances in the scowling swordsman's direction.

"I am most terribly sorry," he blathered, addressing the Finder. "There was a steam leak in the boiler room and I am afraid that all of the materials drying in the heat were...well...soaked." There was a long and nasty silence, the same one a person would hear just after a courtier said something most politically incorrect in the presence of their Royal Majesties and just before said Royal Majesties ordered the guillotine to be greased up for use. Samuel looked vexed, but he still had dry clothes to wear. Allen looked pissed because it was a little chilly to be sitting around in damp boxer shorts and nothing else. Kanda looked...well, no one knew exactly how Kanda looked because the arrogant swordsman had tipped his head forward and his face was obscured by his thick, glossy bangs, but this was probably a good thing. Nobody deserved to see the face of death before they died, and wet, chafing pants certainly weren't helping Kanda's sunny disposition. The porter was good at taking obvious hints, and the way Kanda's long-fingered hands were curling around Mugen was sending him a message deeply ingrained in the minds of all prey animals: run.

As the porter's footsteps faded from auditory range, the tension in the room began to dissipate. Kanda was still too angry to be on speaking terms with the world, however, so as the trio began to settle down on the padded benches lining the walls of the compartment, it was silently decided that Kanda could have his half of the space all to himself. The Finder rested his back against the seat where Allen's knees were, laid his chin on his chest, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. The parasite-bearing exorcist twitched around on his soft row of seats in various supine positions before he found one that suited him: on his side, facing into the center of the compartment with his back leaning against the backrests of the seats behind him and his hands folded beneath his cheek like a pillow. Unfortunately, this afforded the slight teen an unsurpassed view of the other exorcist, who lay sprawled on his back like an indolent god. Allen could see that Kanda was already asleep; the Japanese swordsman knew the value of being fresh and well-rested when going into dangerous situations and had trained himself accordingly. The dark teen was perfectly capable of sleeping anywhere while still being completely aware of his surroundings. The white-haired young man watched the other exorcist rest for a while, drinking in the contrast between raven hair, black fabric, and pale skin. By now the white belt had slid down to mid-thigh, leaving nothing to Allen's over-active imagination.

Oh, fuck, were the usually calm boy's last thoughts before he, too, slipped into slumber. Why the hell does he even bother to wear that stupid thing anyway if he has a different belt for Mugen and it doesn't even stay up? What the hell is he thinking? Fu--oh, god. Let's not think about that. Allen's mental stress was ended as Mr. Sandman finally got sick of ineffectually sprinkling his sand and just clubbed the young man up side the head with the sandbag. Figuratively, of course. The result: Allen was out like a light. It was not until about eight hours later, sometime around six in the morning when the unfortunate porter crept back into the compartment to wake Sam up and tell him that the train had reached their stop, that Allen stirred and opened pale grey eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the train's many windows, promising a bright, clear day. The exorcists' clothes were clean, dry, and neatly folded in a pile near the door. Breakfast had been delivered in a large basket. And as Allen finished slipping back into his clothes he noticed one more thing. Kanda was still asleep, spread out in a boneless heap. The damn white belt was looped loosely around one ankle and the tight black pants had slithered down to reveal slim hips. Allen blushed madly and smiled to himself: oh, yes. It was a beautiful day.

Author's Note(s): Thank you to everyone who is still interested in this story. I'm sorry it took so long to update (well, that's starting to be a familiar line), but I've been studying for my finals. Keep in mind the ages I noted at the end of the last chapter, they'll become important down the line. Feel free to ask me any questions about what is going on, but I won't tell you what's going to happen. Flames are welcome. I like to laugh at angry people. Until next time!