A/N: Hello everyone. Sorry about the short length, but this is just a small interlude from Cross' point of view that I wanted to toss in here, so I hope no one finds this too bothersome. And sorry I was gone for three weeks; I've found myself to be greatly unmotivated, so sorry about that. But a big thank you to Tzipporrah, xenocanaan, Lena-luvs-cats, lizy2000, and Guest for all reviewing! Please enjoy!(:

Disclaimer: It's sad when you can't even own the subject of your own writing, but alas, I'm clearly a masochist for forcing myself to write fanfiction. Doesn't matter. I have no regrets.

Chapter 7

Time Frame — Night of December 28th, 1891

—3rd Person POV—

~Cross~

Picking up on yet another muffled and choked sob, General Cross paused in his work, single eye flickering up to observe the duo across the room. He held back a sigh; Anita was stubbornly dabbing Allen's face, and the bandages across the ten-year-old girl's forehead appeared to be swapped with fresh ones. Despite that, blood was already soaking through, in the shape of Stigmata. He'd told her; he knew she was strong, but even this was a bit too much to handle for the young woman. But Anita had been stubborn, suffering along with Allen as the girl went through the painful transformation of becoming a Noah. Anita would have to go soon; the final stage was setting in, and he knew how abrupt the bloodlust could take hold.

"Anita," he murmured as she passed him by, old, bloody bandages held on a tray in her hands, ready to be disposed of. Cross stood from his kneeled position (he'd been tracking the strength of magyk seals responsible for the barrier concealing Allen) and gently rested his hands upon her thin, quivering shoulders. "It's time."

For a moment, she appeared ready to protest, before deflating. "O-of course," she stammered, clearing her throat. Her dark gaze found his as she added, "I left a bag with an extra set of clothes for her beside the bed… P-please take care of her."

Cross nodded gently, caressing the length of her prominent cheeks. "I promise. Now please, go on and rest. Remember what Allen told you."

Anita's crackled and dry lips lifted into the bare shadow of a smile. "Yes," she nodded. Casting one last glance at the trembling girl, Anita gazed at her with a pained expression before sweeping out of the room without another word.

General Cross rubbed his face with a tired sigh, relieved that Anita had finally gone. Directing another look of scrutiny at the seals, he shook his head, knowing there wasn't much more he could do and went to sit on Anita's previous spot, beside the ailing girl. The sight was quite ghastly, and anyone who had come to know the cheerful girl under his care would no longer recognize her. Some of the more obvious changes were the graying of her skin, making her appear corpse-like, and her vibrant hair had dulled to a pitch black; the locks now shortened tuffs clinging to her clammy skin.

Though the Noah had no specified gender they each reincarnated to, Cross knew the Fourteenth was a special case, and had elected for Allen to disguise herself as a boy once more, and had her lengthy tresses cut away, courtesy of Anita. But that hadn't been the most traumatizing of changes for the young girl.

The most intense modification had been the removal of her left arm.

Another whimper of pain escaped Allen's colorless lips, right hand twitching towards the vacant space left behind by her missing limb, and without much thought, Cross reach over, shrouding her little hand in his. Belatedly, Cross flickered his eye down and gazed at their hands, a barely audible scoff escaping his lips. "… This is so fucked up. You were only ever meant to be a vessel," he murmured, large hand clenching around hers. "I never cared much for you, you know? I don't know how, but you were more Neah's friend than mine. And when you offered up yourself, your body…" Cross scoffed once more, turning his gaze away, inadvertently catching sight of the twitching Innocence limb he'd tossed into the corner. Feathers were beginning to sprout, the arm twitching as if agitated.

He flickered his gaze back towards Allen. "… When you offered up yourself as a sacrifice, I had no qualms. I wonder where I went wrong…" Cross mused. The shock of discovering that Allen had somehow switched genders still stuck with him. And for the longest time, he'd doubted everything about the kid; until the General finally realized that Allen truly had no recollections of being male. And like most females, she managed to worm her way into his heart, closer than most, even Anita. "It was never meant to be like this…"

A pained groan shook the small girl and Cross stayed by her side for the coming hours, eventually removing her bandages and wiping away the excess blood once it became obvious that the Stigmata had healed and scarred. And soon after, her body became rigid, piercing golden eyes snapping open as a single, dainty hand shot up and constricted his throat.

The General took this with smooth calmness. "… Neah," he growled pointedly, when he had yet to release his strangle on him.

The small girl disguising the male Noah cleared her throat, finally bringing her hand back down and sitting up. "Right, my bad," the Noah grunted, stretching aching limbs.

"… Well?" Cross eventually demanded, after giving the Noah a moment to himself.

Neah shot him a disgruntled glare and muttered. "I'm fine. And in control—for the most part."

"Define 'in control'," Cross insisted, arms crossed and single eye narrowed.

"It means," Neah huffed, with his own heated glare, "That as much as I'm willing to slaughter Mana and the rest of the Clan at the moment, I can and will hold myself back. A little trust here would be appreciated, Cross."

"Good. Now that we've established that, give Allen back control," the General instructed, "There are some last minute issues I was unable to explain to her before she underwent the transformation, and I need everything clarified before you two disappear off the face of the earth."

"Yeah, yeah," Neah agreed, shifting uncomfortably. "Man, Cross, what the hell? Turning Allen into a girl?! I knew your brain was missing a few screws, but the whole tool box? Damn it…" Neah grumbled to himself, and didn't allow Cross a chance to protest before he was slumping down and retuning Allen her control.

"C-Cross?" Allen stammered and the General in question observed as her skin flushed bright into her previous tan, eyes altering into a pale gray. The only Noah-like aspect that remained was her onyx locks, as that was part of her disguise.

Placing a hand on her trembling shoulder, Cross steadied her and inquired, "How are you handling it?"

The silence lingered, and once Allen glanced directly at him, he noticed how her eyes were faintly glazed over. "It's…" she trailed off. "… the hate; it's all-consuming." Cross cursed under his breath. Hadn't Neah said he had it under control? Allen still appeared somewhat dazed as she continued, "I could kill someone right now. I won't, but it would be so unbearably easy. I should just slaUGHTER EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE FILTHY—"

"Allen!" Cross shouted, grasping her shoulders and shaking her.

"I…" Allen choked on the single word, and then remained silent. Eventually, she seemed able to shake it off, though the poor girl still appeared spooked. "S-sorry about that, General. Neah explained that restraining his hatred was equivalent to that of curbing an ocean. Some of his loathing incidentally spilled over onto me…"

"I see," Cross sighed, finally releasing her. "… Are you sure you're ready for all of this?"

Swallowing thickly, Allen gripped onto the sheets of the bed, knuckles becoming white with strain. "Yes," she whispered.

Cross smothered down the part of him that wanted to protest and keep her safe, but ultimately, he would abide by the old Allen's wishes. That young, redheaded man had made Cross promise to do everything in his power to make the new Allen support Neah, despite being unable to now recall the purpose he'd set out for himself at the time.

"Then we must examine a few, last minute issues before I send you on your way. The barrier is weakening, and not even the Grave of Maria shall be able to conceal you from the Earl," Cross pronounced gravely.

Allen nodded stiffly. "Alright." Almost involuntarily, her right hand reached up, rubbing her left shoulder where her arm had been severed.

With a small frown of his own, Cross grasped her right hand and gently tugged it away from her shoulder, before flipping her hand over, palm facing up, one of his fingers grazing over the cross tattoo he'd branded her with on the inside of her wrist. Allen gasped once her eyes landed on it. "What it is this?" she demanded quietly, left shoulder twitching, as if she'd meant to touch it with her other hand.

"I've sealed a special array of magyk inside you," Cross explained patiently. "You kept demanding how it was that'd you be able to fake your own death to the Noah, and so this is what I've been working on for the past two years."

"How does it work?" she wondered, eyes still examining the tattoo keenly.

"Don't worry about it," Cross shook his head. "The mechanisms are a bit complicated, but Neah will know how to activate it. The point of it is, that it suppresses the Noah. It will take all the Dark Matter that makes up Neah and repress him back into the brink of destruction. It won't kill him, but the Noah Clan will feel his absence to the point of thinking he's dead. The downside is that you won't have access to any of his abilities, and if the need ever arises, he will be unable to replace you in the use of your body without breaking the seal. You'll still be able to communicate, but I'd rather you wait to release him as a trump card against the Earl."

"My Ace of Spades," Allen murmured thoughtfully, before nodding. "Okay, I see."

"In the end, this mission will last only as long as you and Neah allow it to last," Cross concluded. "Now, get dressed. I've made a temporary concealment talisman that will keep the Earl from tracing you back to this location. So get away as far from here as you possibly can."

Allen gulped thickly but offered him a quick nod and stumbled out of bed. Her gaze momentarily landed on the neat stack of letters piled atop her nightstand. Allen's eyes dimmed, and she remarked, "Please don't forget to mail those."

Cross followed her gaze. Right; her farewell letters. "Of course."

Few words were exchanged after that, and it wouldn't be for years to come that General Cross would learn about the young, dark-haired boy that had stumbled into the greedy hands of the Millenium Earl.

A/N: That concludes that first arc of this fic! And like I mentioned in the previous chapter, this is also where my outline officially dies, so any ideas you guys could toss at me would be immensely appreciated!

(And if you're curious, this fic includes three arcs that I know of. You've just read the first one; the next one is the Noah; the third, meeting the Black Order! If everything works out for Allen, that is…)

Please leave a review!(: