Niamh is tired. And must work in the morning. And is working on TWS. And her con fic. Things will be slow.

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man. Sadface.

Warnings: Umm… more… normal stuff? Kanda and Allen being niceish? Character development that's very not in the manga?

-- -- --

Chapter Ten: Panic Makes Remorse

The house was much too large with grounds that winded Lavi before he could get to the overly heavy doors, sweating and panting despite his cane and Tyki's offer of assistance. It was good for him, he knew, after tromping around the Noah's small residence and participating in what did not qualify as exercise. That didn't, however, make him any less exhausted by the ordeal, and didn't stop Tyki from trying to hold him a little off of his ankle, large hands bruising in their attempt to keep him steady. Not that Lavi minded. It was the thought that counted.

It surprised him a little that Shirley answered the door almost as soon as they were on the porch – the tok tok tok of his boots and the tat ta ta of Tyki's dress shoes made him think of expensive wood stained in a light color – and noticed they were terribly close to each other right off. Lavi expected Shirley to be one of those slow-witted, annoyingly close people, but he offered something cool to drink and whisked them into a foyer that was too large to guess the proportions of by sound alone.

The apprentice Bookman didn't like the house one tiny bit.

He also didn't like it when Shirley touched him, laying a hand on the crisp fabric of his white shirt and guiding him toward a couch he would have found the location of on his own. He did, however, like that Tyki stayed with him and helped him gauge the distance from the coffee table to the sofa, which made telling the location of the cold tea a servant brought him that much easier. He also liked that, when Shirley wasn't looking, Tyki took him by the chin and kissed his forehead, asking if he was alright and if he felt fine regardless of the change in scenery. That closeness and concern, coupled with the warmth in Tyki's voice, made everything alright.

"I'll be okay," Lavi whispered, and didn't like how he couldn't tell where the walls were by the sound of his voice. "I just didn't know we would be walking here. And then the grounds were so huge… and it's work to walk on one leg, you know?" He stifled a yawn and reached up enough to wind his fingers in the older man's, which for the time being was his only anchor in a very dark world.

"Once we're to the west garden you won't have to get up, I promise." Tyki's voice, however soft, told Lavi that there was now someone else looking at them. "You can sit here and drink for a minute, if you'd like."

Lavi reached out and took the tea from the table, sipping the bitter liquid with gentle lips. "Are they waiting for us?"

"Sheryl looks like he might explode, but no. It is only the five of us at the moment." The Noah's fingers found Lavi's knee and squeezed it gently, just enough to promise safety in a way that a more obvious touch wouldn't have. "We've only just got here and already I can't wait to leave…"

The redhead smiled. "That's just because you like me in your pants, you know. And I mean that in any and all ways imaginable."

This time, when Tyki spoke to him, it was louder than it should have been, with a little undertone of amusement dancing in the back of his throat. "If we weren't sitting on my older brother's couch with his eyes glued to us…"

"Don't even start, Tyki." Shirley's voice interrupted, smilingly, from somewhere to Lavi's left and the door. "You know as well as I do that you're going to do exactly the same thing here as you would alone. When I am not looking."

"Ugh…" Tyki's expression must have fallen, because the hand snapped away from Lavi's knee, leaving the boy bereft and anchorless. But it was back again a moment later, this time wound in the fingers the apprentice Bookman wasn't using for his beverage. "No. Just… no. If there is even a chance of you seeing or hearing or fantasizing over—"

"Why!" The voice was delicate and feminine, soft and gentle, but it was enough to make Tyki silent at once. The woman's shoes warned Lavi that she was coming across the stone floor to them, with a discrete servant not two steps behind, and he released Tyki's hand, thinking the older man's sleeve might be a better temporary handhold. Tyki didn't stop him. "Tyki! Sheryl didn't tell me that you were bringing a guest!" The woman swept down on them with a flutter of air and a smile in her voice. Lavi had the feeling he might like her.

Tyki didn't really seem to. "Are you feeling well, Lady Trisha?" There was something withheld in his voice.

She didn't notice. "Yes. Today I feel just fine, in fact. I'll have to send someone to fetch Road to the garden, but first…" Her attention, and the subject of conversation, turned in Lavi's direction, a change that was almost tactile to the redhead seated on the uncomfortably stiff couch. "Who is this… and…what…"

"Lavi," he extended his hand and, when she laid her palm gently in his, brought the back of hers to his lips for the briefest of moments before he released it. "I fell down a well not too long ago. Hit my head, broke my leg, scraped my… well… I don't remember what actually happened, but that's the story. I'd give you a last name but… I don't remember that either…" He shook his head, and tried to force himself to smile despite the suddenly heavy air. "Anyway, don't let the blind guy with the mysterious past bring ya down! Supposedly, I wasn't all that nice before it happened. So be happy for me, alright?"

It was terribly awkward. Tyki made it that much worse by nudging Lavi's abandoned tea with his elbow before recapturing the boy's fingers.

"The two of you will have to tell me how you became friends over tea, don't you agree?" Trisha's warm voice didn't even waver. "As soon as I find Road…"

"Upstairs," Shirley said at once. "Studying like the wonderful daughter she is…"

"Somehow…" Tyki whispered under his breath, just soft enough for Trisha to talk over him for a moment, "I want to hit him."

-- -- --

"No. Go die."

"Kanda!"

Allen knew that Kanda wasn't in the mood for conversation and wasn't all that into food, but this was really ridiculous. Skipping lunch had not been a good idea, and the 'dinner' he had set them down to was so pathetic it wouldn't have fed a parasitic bean. And Allen, no matter how skinny and short, was not a bean. He was a young man with things that needed to be fed in order to grow and a stomach that would not be quiet through the night on salad and bread alone. It didn't matter what kind of mood Kanda was in – no force of will could change that.

The city had faded completely into night, and the air had grown slightly chilled as the twilight wore into true nightfall. Still, even with a late frost moving down on them from the north, and heavy rain clouds creeping along with it, it did not seem likely that they were calling a halt to their search. Not if Kanda continued to be a demanding, idiotic prick at least.

"Goddamn it, Kanda—"

"I think He has more important things to do with His time, but thanks for the thought."

"I can't fight if I'm starving!"

The swordsman's coat, which lifted a little in the growing wind, whipped around his knees as he turned, one hand on Mugen, the other hanging resolutely at his side. Kanda's eyes were narrowed with annoyance, but he didn't have as much fire behind the expression as he usually did. He might have been… tired or something. "You can't fight when you aren't starving. Stop bothering me!"

"You're being very stupid, Kanda. Not only because things will be easier with me 'not-fighting' with you, but also because I have more firepower than—" Allen realized what he was saying just a moment to late and let the words dwindle away on the wind. They didn't need to be having this sort of fight now, not when they didn't have wooden weapons and time to make things right. It was dangerous and time consuming, at the very least.

"Did you just try to say that you are a better—"

"No!" Allen cut off Kanda's angry tone before the fingers wrapped around Mugen's hilt could grow any tighter. "Because it doesn't matter anyway! Just… why do we have to fight over everything, Kanda? Why can't you just let me eat so we can question people until the sun comes up tomorrow? And!" The British boy saw an opportunity and decided to take it, just because the words were there, waiting to be said by someone, eventually. It didn't matter if Kanda was all wiry muscle and might take the words wrong, it only mattered that it was an unexplored line of insults if the Japanese Exorcist took offense. "How do you even function on one plate of food and nothing else? I eat a lot, but you… it's a wonder you're even alive eating like you do! And if you say that that's all you need, I say you're either lying or you have the stomach of something inhuman."

For a moment, the moment Allen thought Kanda would surely spend ranting to him about something related to either their search or unhealthy eating habits, there was nothing but silence. The swordsman narrowed his eyes at the British boy and his lips parted just a little, as if he might say something very softly, before they closed again, slowly. The way he turned and the way he held himself was wrong – he should have reacted violently to Allen and that was it. There was no exception to the rule of Kanda's logic.

"Bean Sprout," Kanda's voice was little more than a growl. "Just shut up. You can eat. Just…" He turned around then, with fire and anger burning in his eyes, and his hand still clenched on Mugen. "Just be quiet, already. I'm tired of you yapping my ear off at every street corner!"

There was something else. Something was bothering Kanda, and it didn't take Allen's ability to read bad poker faces to see it.

"Kanda…" Allen looked down at the sidewalk and prepared himself to die. "Yuu."

For a moment, it seemed like the swordsman hadn't heard him. Otherwise there would have been a sword sticking through Allen's chest. Again.

"I'm not trying to be needy. I'm just hungry, Yuu. And…" This time there was a definite twitch with the name, and Allen stepped cautiously forward, easing closer to Kanda's back. Dead. He was already dead. Now he just had to complete his mission before he knew it. "Please, if something in bothering you besides my absolute failure in your eyes…" He prepared himself again, gathering strength in his legs. "Say so." With arms that he didn't think would connect and his eyes squinted shut, Allen launched himself at Kanda's back. Where the idea had come from, why he knew that Kanda needed a hug and would not admit it, he didn't know. He only knew that in the growing darkness no one would see and no one would care, only Kanda and Mugen.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Hugging a cactus. Shut up and take it, Kanda. Or I'll… call you… Yuu or something."

The back against Allen's face was exceedingly stiff, and hard, and muscled under the fabric between them. It might have been comfortable, if it hadn't been Kanda's back. It vibrated when the Japanese man spoke. "How long are you planning on attempting to restrain me?"

"Not restraining you. I'm hugging you. I'm comforting you."

"Bean Sprout."

"What?"

Kanda shift from one foot to the other, as if weighing his options. "I will kill you." But there was no threat in it, and Kanda didn't whirl around to see his threat through at once. Instead, he shifted on his feet again, slowly, and his back relaxed a little – just a little. And then the world was turning away from Allen's eyes and the swordsman was moving out of his arms, his arms that were suddenly weak and reaching for a body that wasn't there. The British boy hit the stone walk with a loud, hissing gasp, pain searing through his abdomen and up his chest, air catching in his throat.

It wasn't until Allen caught sight of Mugen's pommel tucked under Kanda's arm that he knew what had hit him.

While the white-haired Exorcist attempted to catch his breath, the swordsman turned around on almost lazy feet, looking down at him with eyes that burned with silent venom. "Don't touch me. And get up, unless you don't want the food you need so much."

Allen coughed wetly and rubbed at his tearing left eye, stuck between feeling annoyed and feeling satisfied. He had won if he got what he wanted, right?

"Was that… absolutely necessary?!"

"Che. Not like you had to touch me!"

The British boy frowned and pushed himself up to sitting, brushing dirt from his coat. "You need it, Kanda! Half the time you have that look on your face like you really, really just need someone to either kick you in the face or hug—"

Kanda growled low in his throat and turned away, glaring up at the night sky, hands held out in a gesture of true frustration. He spoke loudly, ignoring Allen's attempt to scrub the mud from the fringe of his sleeves. "For the last time, I do not need someone to fucking hug me! I'm fine, damnit! So what if I'm not happy? What does it matter if I'm pissed off and worried?! It doesn't! It doesn't change anything! So stop offering to help me when the last thing is I need is your help getting in my way!" With the last part he looked down at Allen, eyes narrowed as if he might have just used the last of his version of patience. "I don't want what you're trying to give me, idiot. Understand?"

Allen blinked for a moment before struggling to his knees and teetering breathlessly toward his feet. Why did Kanda have to hit so hard anyway? "Why not?!" It didn't come out as loud as he wanted it to. "Are you just so incapable of making friends that you can't have one? Or is it because I'm not like you? Because I'm still me, Kanda, even if I'm—" He ducked the blow at his face and sidestepped, one arm around his stomach, the other hanging at his side. He wasn't about to use his Innocence unless Kanda did first, and he somehow didn't see that happening at the moment.

"This has nothing to do with you!" The swordsman growled, coming after the smaller boy. "I do not want your sympathy."

"There are a lot of things people don't want." Allen hissed. He immediately thought of his own hunger and cursed himself for being so easily distracted. "But we still need them."

"Che." Kanda almost grabbed Allen by the jacket – almost. "I don't need you."

"Maybe not… but you do need to talk about what you're feeling with someone, eventually…"

"Thank you, Mr. Kettle, but I'd rather not talk about anything with you!"

Allen paused, stricken by the wit in Kanda's response, and regretted it the moment he felt fingers tangle in the collar of his coat and yank him forward, feet sliding on the slowly freezing street. He hadn't noticed how cold it was becoming, nor how the air was burning in his starved lungs, until that moment.

But Kanda didn't hit him. Instead, the white-haired Exorcist found himself lifted onto his toes, looking the swordsman dead in the eyes. He could see something odd in them, like fear but not, and it made some part of Allen want nothing more than to reach out to Kanda again, regardless of how little ground he had made so far. So, instead of hissing out another argument or saying something else that the swordsman would ignore, Allen lifted his left hand and placed it gently on the side of Kanda's face.

"Even if it's only until he's back, Kanda… you can talk to me."

The shiver that took Kanda's shoulders opened his fingers and reintroduced Allen's feet to the ground. Without a word, Kanda began walking away from Allen, stiff and sure, his boots making soft sounds on the stone as he went, tied back hair swinging like a whip in his wake. Maybe he was done fighting for now, or maybe Allen had gotten to him, in either case, Kanda had directed himself toward what looked like a restaurant. He moved regardless of the fact that Allen stayed exactly where he was, blinking at the back of the swordsman's head.

"Maybe he just… acknowledged me?" The British boy mumbled to himself, and straightened the lines of his coat one final time before stepping off to follow the swordsman. He didn't try to quiet the sounds of his feet as he tromped to the older boy's side. He shoved both of his hands into his pockets and looked rather closely at Kanda's darkened expression, frowning with just one side of his mouth.

"If you talk, I will leave you here alone. I'm not eating anyway."

Allen smiled as sweetly as his face would allow. "In that case, I'll just listen."

-- -- --

"So you met on a train, but Lavi doesn't remember it?" Trisha's voice was as sweet and friendly as ever, even if it seemed a bit less lively than it had at the start of their meeting. Even if she felt well, the woman was weak, losing steam, slowing down. She wouldn't let it ruin the evening, that was for sure, but she would talk just a little more slowly and spend quite a bit of time in her chair across from Lavi's, gasping every time he reached for the teapot and didn't break it.

Really, she must have had big eyes and really good vision, otherwise she wouldn't have been so shocked by his ability to do things without his.

The benefactor seemed to think Lavi wasn't worth that much attention and spent his time doting on Road. The other woman who came didn't talk to anyone at all, too quiet and reserved to do more than ask for a servant to bring her milk instead of tea. Still, Lavi was set on doing his very best to fit in with them, even if the Earl didn't seem to be trying overly hard to make him feel welcome.

"Yes," Tyki said from the redhead's left, a little smile in his voice. "But it would be more accurate to say that we met the day I brought him to the house in Carrickmines… we hadn't known much about each other until then." He shifted a little, perhaps reaching for his wine glass, before falling silent again. As the evening wore on and the relatives arrived and soup faded into delicious salmon and the salmon into a rice pilaf and cabbage salad, Tyki became more and more content to talk and lounge and generally be agreeable. Maybe it was the fish that did it, but Lavi doubted it. The Portuguese man just liked to eat.

Trisha made a little agreeable sound in the back of her throat. "Then… Lavi," she always said his name when she addressed him, like that might somehow let him know that he had missed a visual cue to speak. "You don't know anything? Not even why you were in Ireland? How are you liking Lichfield? Are you staying long?"

Lavi felt himself frown. "We're living in Ireland?"

Tyki choked on his wine.

"Because we walked here and I don't really see how that could be—"

"Breathe, Brother! Breathe!" Shirley's tone made it obvious that he wanted to cut off Lavi more than he actually wanted to insure that Tyki wasn't about to drown in alcohol. So that was a secret too, somehow. Rather than demand an answer as to how one (or two) might warp from the eastern side Ireland to outside of London, Lavi turned and began to pat Tyki rather violently on the back with his sore left arm, an act that was pointless when the man could just phase the liquor out of his airway if the need really became imperative. The thought almost made the redhead smile.

Tyki recovered before he could speak, and caught Lavi's hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm…fine. Just… ehem…"

"Well, I guess that goes to show that you don't remember."

Someone giggled at Trisha's words, but it wasn't Lavi.

"I remember…" Lavi turned his face down, just because it seemed like a more natural position, and wove his fingers in Tyki's. It surprised him a little that the table fell silent at the words, as if everyone wanted to know what he knew, including Trisha. She must have had light hair and a small frame, it was the only thing that fit. "I remember…"

The evening air, heavy with the scent of flowers and the occasion clink of chinaware, suddenly felt so much colder than it was.

'Lavi!'

'Would you shut up, stupid rabbit!"

'I'm sorry!'

'How old are you?'

'About fifteen.'

'Well, I'm eighteen. So, I'm like youYr big brother!'

"A lot of little things, but they don't make any sense to me." He whispered aloud, shaking his head. "Bits of conversations, distorted faces, stuff like that. But the only name that fits anyone is Allen." The silence suddenly became tense at the name, harsh, and he knew that the name wasn't one that needed to be repeated. The people at the table – perhaps discounting Trisha – knew who Allen was. It was another thing they didn't like besides piano music. "And all I remember about him is a forced smile and a complete disregard for his own safety. Everything else…"

The hand in his, which he had begun to clench almost desperately, returned his force with slightly less ardor. "You don't have to talk about this, Lavi."

"But I should, shouldn't I?" The apprentice Bookman turned his face toward the Noah whose hand he held, fighting to keep his voice steady. If they all knew who Allen was, then why didn't they explain it? If they all knew who Allen was, then why didn't they know Lavi? "How will I ever get to know everyone, or have them trust me, if I'm not willing to tell them what I do know about my past? Even if it's just…" He floundered for the proper word for a moment. "Useless crap. I mean, if you knew something and wanted me to trust you, wouldn't you tell me?"

The silence was awkward and smothering.

"I would think," Lulu – or was it Lola? – broke in for what might have been the first time all evening. She had a soft spoken way about her that told of either thoughtfulness or laziness, though Lavi felt that he didn't want to find out either way. "That it would be better if you ate with us more often, Bookman. And tell us everything you remember. There might be something that we can…use to help you regain what you have lost."

"Yeah…" Lavi agreed despite the suddenly constricting grip of Tyki's hand. "That's my point exactly."

It was only ten more minutes before it became too cold in the garden for Trisha to remain without endangering her health and she retired, leaving Lavi to sit with the incomplete Noah family, suppressing his own shivers. For a time, casual conversation continued – Road bounded to Tyki's side and began to reprimand him for not taking proper care of his hair, Shirley chuckled good naturedly and poured more wine, including a glass for Lavi. They were normal, it seemed, for the moment, and the hand in Lavi's under the table only made it that much more noticeable.

The feeling only lasted until the man known as the Millennium Earl cleared his throat for silence.

"I trust that you haven't been keeping too many secrets from your guest, Little Tyki?" The man's voice, this time, wasn't at all eerie like it had been, the aura of death and destruction gone from him. He seemed almost normal now, human perhaps, and the knowledge soothed the redhead a little. They didn't seem like bad people, these descendents of Noah, and the Earl seemed less angry than he had before. Maybe, in the end, he had decided that Lavi was fine regardless of what side he had come from.

The Noah holding Lavi's hand slumped forward a little, leaning on his free hand. "He knows of my mission, though he doesn't know the details of it. If you wish, I will ask him to leave."

"Now, that won't be necessary. There are things he might know, even if he doesn't remember them."

Lavi felt that there were eyes on him and reached for his wine, gulping half the glass before he returned it to its place to the right of his plate. Red wine, but not sweet – cabernet sauvignon, not too old, and much too alcoholic, assertive, and bold for the meal. Lavi didn't particularly care that it was a bad match for the pilaf and tasted bitter – he cared that it heated his blood and made the back of his throat want to sing. Maybe, if he drank enough of it, he wouldn't have to worry about Tyki's relatives very long.

"In that case…" Tyki started, clearing his throat. "I destroyed the station and any number of humans, at least one Finder, and wounded… Walker's escort. The other Exorcist that was with him should have died from his injuries – if not he's at least blind. I don't foresee the Order developing artificial eyes for at least a number of years."

There was a moment of silence following those words. Lavi didn't know if that was good or bad.

"I will send an Akuma to their last known location – if the Fourteenth is indeed alone, now would be an excellent time to attack him. Even if he isn't killed, the distraction will give us more time." This time, when someone's eyes fell on Lavi, he knew he couldn't hide behind the glass in front of him. "Tell me, Mr. Lavi… do any of those words or names sound familiar to you?"

With his face turned toward his mostly empty plate, Lavi thought about it. Walker. Allen Walker. And Akuma. And the Fourteenth. But Allen Walker stuck out the most of them. But there were more people, people he had known longer, people he should have known the names and faces of, friends that would have told him to stop helping—

Friends.

"Lenalee." Lavi whispered, and knew at once that the Chinese girl smiling in the back of his brain had a name. "Allen Walker is friends with Lenalee Lee." He felt sick – nauseous – like he might fall over. Which way was up again? He couldn't see to find out. "Akuma… he exists to destroy Akuma… because they're too sad for this world." The apprentice Bookman had to let go of Tyki's hand to put it over the linen over his eyes, feeling too dizzy, feeling sick. Maybe he had been on a boat once and this was what it felt like. Maybe the harder he tried to remember, the less he would be able to stand thinking about it – he didn't know. He only knew that he felt like he might vomit and fall over at once and used his right hand to clench at the table in front of him as he lurched, his good foot wound up in the leg of his chair to stay steady. Disoriented – that was a good word for how he felt. But this time there were no new names or faces to go with the feeling.

But there were lots and lots of voices.

And a dark haired man in a yellow-white uniform with painfully honest eyes.

There was a hand, large and soothing, pressed to his face, turning it, spinning him toward the left. Someone was supposed to be there, someone he knew, but it wasn't Doug. But who was Doug? He didn't know anyone named Doug, did he?

Someone said something to him. Someone close. He couldn't follow it. He couldn't follow anything. He felt dizzy. He needed to remember…

Oozuchi Kozuchi.

What did that mean?

There was something soft, and gently scented with tobacco pressed to Lavi's face, something warm. It was safe, he knew. It was something he trusted. So he stopped trying to hold on to the table and let his leg unwind, let the pull of whatever was touching him drag him down – or maybe that wasn't down – and away, in the direction of silence. He was supposed to be at dinner but this was better. It didn't matter anyway. It wasn't like Tyki's family liked him. The numbness that sucked at his awareness would be more comfortable than the mahogany, straight backed chairs.

So he let the nothingness come, and prayed to whatever god that would listen that someone he remembered would be there when he woke up.

-- -- --

Tyki paced the length of the room with his hands held tightly behind his back, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Of course the Earl had to ask something like that. And of course Lavi would try to answer. It was so convenient. And now, despite his best efforts, Lavi lay feverish and exhausted in the room to his left, fighting with nightmares. This hadn't been the plan. This hadn't been anything close to the plan. And yet, as he paced, he could feel Road watching his reactions, waiting for the proper time to approach and pry out the details. He didn't want to share though, not at the moment, not until Lavi woke and made that soft, contented sound he always made when he found himself safe from the strange world he found in his dreams.

The boy jerked on the bed and Tyki turned into the room – even if it took him out of sight of Road – and approached the small, metal framed bed with light steps. The redhead didn't wake, but he stirred again, gently, with no emotion on his features.

"What are you dreaming about, Exorcist?" The Noah whispered, sinking onto the bed and reaching with his grayed fingers to stroke at Lavi's hair. It was the exact texture he expected, though warmer than it should have been. "Are you dreaming of your past? Are you remembering? Or is it something else?" His fingers brushed down the boy's cheek, down to his lips, his jaw. The lines of the boy's face were very sharp in the oil lamp light, orange and gold and shadow, sculpted from precious stone. "I don't care." Tyki heard himself whisper when his hand came to Lavi's throat. "I don't care if you remember. I just want you to wake-up the same."

The boy didn't open his eyes and smile; he tilted his face into Tyki's hand, though.

Without a thought of what he was doing or why, the Noah leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lavi's, his left had rested to the apprentice Bookman's chest. Maybe it was an urge that had a meaning. Maybe it was just an urge. Maybe, if he really paused to wonder, it was a kiss goodnight.

It didn't really matter what the kiss was, only that Lavi made that soft, gasping sound of contentment and tilted his head back just so, inviting and yet shy. The skin against his mouth was too warm, but the redhead still responded with a broken hum, while his left hand, shaking a little with remaining tiredness and perhaps a little fear, reached up to tangle in Tyki's hair. That little bit of contact was just enough to send Tyki's fingers creeping up the Exorcist's sides.

Exhaustion, it seemed, wasn't something that would stop Lavi from responding. Nor was disorientation. Tyki rocked back and then forward, just enough to change the lay of the bed, and Lavi pushed himself up and back at once, slamming the back of his head on the iron bed frame.

"Lavi!"

"Ow…shit…"

The Noah moved to check the younger man's wounds, reaching around the back of the boy's head to tug at the linen around his eyes. But the boy laughed. Lavi caught Tyki's wrists and laughed at him, soft and dark and tired.

"I'm okay just… dizzy. When you tilted the bed, I thought I was rolling off." Lavi explained, and once again reached into Tyki's hair. "'M okay…" The way he mumble it, and the way he smiled at the brush of knuckles against his cheekbones, reminded Tyki of a contented cat about to purr itself to sleep. "How come I fainted?"

"Thinking too hard, I think." Tyki said softly, leaning very close to the redhead. He wanted to be closer for some reason, like before, but that really wasn't necessary with the apprentice Bookman making wonderful knots in his hair. "You were asked if something was familiar, and when you tried to remember this happened. Of course, it most likely doesn't help that you walked here with me and then sat outside in the cool air without a jacket but—"

"Right. Lichfield." Lavi nodded. "You'll have to tell me how we did that sometime…"

Tyki felt himself smile. "All in good time."

Lavi shifted, pulling Tyki down by his hair. The Noah let it happen for some reason, until his head rested sideways against the redhead's chest, the fingers that had been in his hair trailed down the older man's face, following the curve of his nose. "I feel like my brain hurts."

"Oh?"

The boy nodded, then sighed softly. "And my forehead… are we going home?"

Tyki smiled a little, just enough to make it known in his voice. "I think it would be better if we stayed here tonight while you rest. Though, I'll likely stay in this room with you rather than take the one my brother keeps for me." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the Noah had to wonder why he was willing to make that sacrifice. But when he thought about it, staying in this small, metal bed wasn't a sacrifice at all – Lavi made a fairly good pillow. "Besides the headache are you… still alright? No… memories?"

The apprentice Bookman shook his head slowly from side to side, frowning. "More names, but that's it. Now I'm just tired." He sighed a little, sinking into the pillows. "If you need to be with them then you can go; you've got no obligation to be stuck t'me, ya know? I'll be fine if you're not too far away."

"Lavi," Tyki pushed himself up, displacing the finger that kept running down the bridge of his nose, and leaned up to kiss the boy very shortly on the lips. When he pulled away, Tyki laid a hand on Lavi's chest, feeling the slow billow of the boy's lungs – and for once he didn't even think about the fact that those lungs were keeping an Exorcist alive. "I will be close enough for you to call for me. I just need to tell the others you are alright." He repeated the kiss, a little longer this time, and broke away chuckling at the redhead's enthusiasm. Really, the apprentice Bookman would likely be just as desperate for sex on his deathbed as he was every other day of his life.

"Tyki."

"Hm?"

Lavi's mouth lifted in a strange, crooked smile. "Goodnight kiss?"

"You're incorrigible."

-- -- --

Why was Tyki so tender with that redheaded beast? Why was he… kissing the Exorcist goodnight?! Who cared if he didn't remember? She could make him remember. If she had half a chance, she could make him remember everything. Who he was, who he wasn't, who he had lied to, who he had never been. But they wouldn't let her. She had to play nice and smile and be pleasant – even if he had tried to burn her alive, stabbed her in her heart, hugged her Allen right in front of her…

The apprentice Bookman had suffered the momentary loss of his heart once at her hands; she could do it again. Especially now. If he didn't remember who he was, she could break him like anyone else – it didn't matter if he didn't remember that he wasn't supposed to care.

Road narrowed her eyes at the hand her uncle pressed to Lavi's face, to the pained expression the redhead wore. She wanted to rip him to bits, literally and figuratively. How many times could she kill him before he believed it? She didn't know. But each time would be new and exciting, and he would always make that face – that expression – like he knew it was over but he still loved the fact that he had lived.

"If I'm asleep before you get back, wake me up so I don't stick my elbows in your ribs or somethin'." Lavi's voice, tight with a laugh that wasn't voiced, caught in her ears like flies, irritating and familiar. He made her so angry – if only because he seemed so… nice and broken now.

"You're so trusting…"

"I don't have a reason not to," Lavi laughed. "I trust you, and your relatives haven't done anything bad to me that I remember, so…"

"Should I stay with you then, until you fall asleep?" Tyki's voice was demure, and she was willing to bet that the fingers he used to brush at the redhead's forehead were as gentle as a breath of wind. He was losing his mind to be acting like that – he was Pleasure, he was supposed to be cruel.

Lavi made a soft negative and relaxed further, all of his barriers down, all of his defenses turned off. He was really going to sleep there. He was really going to dream in this house, her house, and she was going to have no reason at all to disturb him but for things that lay in the past, things that Tyki no longer minded. She looked down at her pastel lavender dress for a moment, then at her shoes, before she ran a hand through her dark hair and looked up again, trying to think of a solution.

Her uncle was kissing the Exorcist on the brow.

"Goodnight, Lavi."

"Goodnight, Tyki."

It was so sweet that she wanted nothing more than to stab the Exorcist lying on that bed.

Instead, she turned away, walking on silent feet away from her uncle and the apprentice Bookman and the whole of the house. It didn't matter where she went – they could find her if they needed her, no matter where she opened a door to. With just the thought, a heart-shaped doorway appeared in front of her, just a few steps away, and opened with nothing but a wave of her hand, showing nothing but inky darkness on the other side.

"Where are you going, young lady?" It was one voice she didn't want to hear, not when she had so much thinking to do. Maybe she'd just go to her room for a while, and wonder about what Lavi had said about Allen Walker.

She turned on heel, grinning up at her uncle with a smile that he would see through. "Just out. I want to get some dessert." He was younger than her – he wouldn't know what she was thinking even if he knew that was a lie.

Tyki matched her expression. His eyes, though, remained his human shade of chocolate, even if his skin was always somewhat more toward gray even at his brightest. Olive, he called it – but there really was no flesh tone that matched him. It looked fine in most lighting but bright sunlight, which made him look sick or burnt somehow. "It's far too late for me to just let my darling little niece wander out a door into the night, don't you think?" He made the same face she was used to – that same smile that he always had for her, different than Sheryl's, but wide and genuine all the same. He was still Tyki, even when he was doing those strange things… even when he was masquerading like one of them.

Sometimes, though, he seemed to do it too well.

"I'll be fine, Tyki." She smiled up at him, brightly. "You know I can take care of myself."

"Road," he had that tone like he was about to say something annoyingly smart despite his dislike for learning. "I know you don't like him, but he doesn't remember hurting you. He doesn't remember what I did to Allen Walker, either," Tyki sighed. "I know what you want to do, but… will you let me keep him? You know that if you caught Allen Walker, I wouldn't tear out his heart until you said I could." There was a ghost of something darker in his expression now, just enough to show that he was still there, under all of that masquerading and tenderness.

She tiptoed forward, the door dissolving behind her, and threw her arms around his waist in a hug that made her feel much better about the situation. Her father had a life who was human, her uncle could have a boy who was an Exorcist as long as things remained as they were. For Tyki's happiness – for her family's wellbeing – she could handle that.

"We should take him on a picnic some time!" She squeezed a little more tightly than was absolutely necessary and the silky green fabric of Tyki's coat hissed in her right ear. He didn't groan though, not like he did when she had disturbed one of his scars. "Because he's one of yours, I'll be okay with it. If you'd like… we can all play a real game sometime. Like dress-up. Or tea party."

Tyki's smile never wavered. "I think… a picnic sounds like the best idea out of those. And even then… his leg needs to heal."

That was right. Humans were so fun and breakable. Allen Walker aside.

She nodded. "Daddy will let him stay until he can go back with you. Which reminds me, how are things there? You lost a handful of Akuma, but the others?"

"The others…" His smile, and his eyes, changed for only a moment, "I have the perfect plan for them."

-- -- --

And… now I must really go to bed. Camping, writing, work… Ima passout faster than Lavi at this rate! ^^ Thanks for reading and reviewing!