Lenalee sat alone on the sofa, watching Howard Link dance and wishing she could swallow the knot in her throat. It wasn't that he was bad, it was that he wasn't good enough to beat one of the best dancers in the world, and in the Order, that was what it took to survive.
The song was right on target, though. Every one of them at the Order could be replaced. The world was such that the supply of kids who were slipping through the cracks was endless. She was one of many, Lavi was one of many, and whatever Link had done or whatever had been done to him, he was probably one of many, too. It wasn't just that they were cheap surplus, people fell over themselves trying to get rid of them, and those who took them in didn't always have their best interests at heart.
She remembered her grandmother's delight at Rouvellier's offer. Had the old woman known back then what Rouvellier had in mind?
She probably knew. It was the sort of thing she'd relish, partly as a source of status but partly as revenge for the death of her only son. She'd enjoy the idea of Lenalee's wedding night very much. She'd consider it only fair.
When Allen came in, his face scrubbed and his hair looking dull and streaky, Lenalee lost herself in a rare sense of victory as she and the entire room burst into applause. He hadn't beaten Road, but he'd tied with her, and his scores had been moving up so consistently that there was little doubt about the outcome of the next competition. He deserved a hero's welcome.
He stopped in the doorway, startled. "Oy!"
"Come on, Allen!" Lenalee said, raising her voice about the noise. "We didn't think anyone could even touch her. I couldn't."
"Thanks then," he said. "I really didn't think I'd come that close."
"You'll beat her next time," said Fou.
"Don't count on it," Allen said. "She practices, too, and she's not going to let me win."
"It's not a question of letting you win," Lenalee said, patting the cushion beside her. "You can totally do this. Sit down! You were amazing."
"You really were," said Fou.
"Thanks," Allen said, sitting beside Lenalee and running his fingers through his still-damp hair. The dye had more or less washed out, but it had left stains in the places where his hair was bleached to match the predominant white. "I look like a Dalmatian, don't I?"
"No!" she said. "Well, kind of. It will come out eventually, though, right?"
"It better," he said, irritated. "I hope the monks don't get angry."
"They won't. It was for a performance, so it's okay, right? Hey, what happened out there?" she asked. "We heard someone yelling."
"I don't know," he said. "Someone had some kind of attack or seizure or something. I think they took him away in an ambulance."
"Is he all right?"
"I don't know. They said he was going to be okay, but I haven't heard."
"What did he say?"
"I don't know. It could have been anything. Hey, that's Tyki! What the heck?"
She looked at the monitor, where Tyki looked very much the young, upper-class Englishman, except for the prong collar around his neck. It didn't look like a prop. It looked like he'd made a quick stop at a pet store. The song had his usual emphatic percussion, but it was bitterly ironic rather than sexy, and the normal playfulness of Tyki's dancing was undone by that awful, heavy collar.
"That's different!" Allen said, surprised.
"Yeah, it is." Lenalee wondered if the spikes were covered. They should have been, but it didn't look like it. "I didn't know he had that much breadth."
"Me, neither," Allen said.
Lenalee looked at the monitor, wondering if that was sweat on his neck or a bead of blood brought out by those spikes. She had never had a dog, so she had never given their training much thought, but this seemed excessive. Especially on Tyki's bare, elegant throat, it looked like a torture device. This was a real thing, a disciplinary tool used by ordinary people on creatures that loved them. Was there no other, gentler solution? And if there wasn't one, why didn't anyone try to invent it?
She found it hard to look away, but she'd always envied the Campbells. They had everything: money, family, the best training, the freedom to develop in their own ways. She'd never stopped to consider the possibility that they might be paying for it in pain.
She glanced at Allen, and found him pensive, frowning. He didn't hate them, not even Road, but he didn't seem to hate anyone, and he wouldn't like the thought of Tyki suffering.
The camera zoomed in on Tyki's face, and the steel links around his neck gleamed bright and unyielding, while dark shadows raced down his skin to bloom red like poppies on the white of his shirt.
She turned to Allen, desperate to take her mind off what she'd just seen. "Where did your song come from?"
"What?" Allen asked, blinking.
"The song you danced to. Where did it come from? I've never heard it before."
Allen shook his head. "I don't know."
Lenalee smiled. "What do you mean, you don't know? You rehearsed it."
"Cross gave it to me. I knew the tune, I just don't know where he got that version. I didn't even know such a thing existed."
"Where did you learn it?"
"From my dad," Allen said. "Mana used to play it for me."
"I didn't know Mana was Japanese," Lenalee said. So that was what Allen had danced, himself and Mana.
"He wasn't," Allen said. "He was English. He just knew that song."
"What does it mean?" she asked.
"It's a lullaby," he said. "That's all, something written by a parent for a child."
"Where did he learn it?"
"I don't know," Allen said, "and I don't think he did, either. Mana's memory was awful, not just his past, but the present, too. It was completely random, what he'd remember and what he'd forget, so there was no point in questioning what stuck and what didn't. He remembered the song and what it meant, but he couldn't tell me where he learned it."
"Was that the only one?" Lenalee asked.
"Only one what?"
"Japanese song?"
"Oh! No. It was his favorite, though. He knew a lot of songs from different places. He liked music."
"What happened to his memory?" With Lavi on the verge of leaving, Lenalee was painfully aware of how little she knew about those around her, and she was caring less and less about the protective shells they all grew. Allen was her friend. If she could ease his burdens even a little bit, she should, no matter how much it hurt.
"Mana had a head injury," Allen said. "He could manage day-to-day things reasonably well, but he couldn't do regular work anymore."
"How did you end up with him?"
"I'm not sure." Allen looked bleak, even though the words were simple enough. "He was at the hospital, working as a clown, trying to cheer up all the sick kids. I didn't like clowns, but he didn't care. He kept coming in anyway, no matter how nasty I was." He smiled. "I wasn't a very nice little kid, so when they discharged me into his care, I was surprised. I knew no one wanted me. I had a bad heart, and my skin kept turning white in places and didn't turn back, but Mana didn't care about any of that. He cared that I had a home, and when he found out I could dance, he cared that I learned." Allen's face relaxed into its accustomed smile. "I'm glad now that I didn't get a proper family. I don't think I would have danced at all if I had. I think a proper mum and dad would have fussed too much about my heart."
"Wow!" Lenalee said, thinking of Komui, who had stepped in to care for her when no one else wanted her. "I'm happy for you then. I'm really sorry about what happened to him."
"Yeah," Allen sighed. "Then I got stuck with Cross. But that wasn't Mana's fault. He wasn't a normal dad, but he was a great dad. I just wish I had a chance to tell him that. I was always whinging about things I wanted, about how unfair life was. I hate to think he felt bad about any of it. I wish he was still alive so I could thank him."
"I think he knows," Lenalee said. "You just danced his favorite song today, right? He knows."
Allen smiled, although his eyes were a little too bright. "Thanks," he said.
"Trust me," she said, then she looked up at the monitors, hearing the opening strains of Lavi's song.
She knew the piece, but she hadn't heard it in so long that it was just a title on a program until that moment. Listening and watching, she understood why he'd chosen it, and tears burned her eyes before trickling slowly down her cheeks.
She had never seen Lavi perform solo, and it was as if she was looking at him for the first time. He was tall. She knew that, but she'd grown so used to him that it hadn't really registered in a while. The eye patch did look a bit dashing, especially with his red hair and headband, that stand-in for his yarmulke because it still felt like sacrilege for him to be bare-headed. He didn't have Allen or Kanda's flexibility, but he knew his music and his body, and he could communicate more eloquently with movement than most people could with words.
He could have used words, but words were a problem for them. Although they had French and English in common, she and Lavi thought and dreamed in different languages, languages that were completely unrelated to each other. To say what he wanted to properly, he had to forgo language entirely, and he was more than capable of doing it. He meant everything he danced, and he was only saying it now because he knew he might never have a chance to say it again.
"Lenalee!" Allen said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling. Lavi had promised that he'd come back, but she knew it was a promise he might not be able to keep, and she might not be here if he did. She wasn't even sure how she felt about that, if the ache in her chest was loss or relief. Komui, she realized, was right. It was far too easy to mix up one feeling with another. Maybe she loved Lavi back. Maybe she didn't, and was glad she no longer had to ignore his feelings so they could work together. Maybe she loved him and he didn't really love her. Maybe his love for her was really something else.
It wasn't just her own heart she couldn't trust, it was his as well.
"It's all right," Allen said gently. "It's going to be all right."
She took advantage of Allen's touch to lean close to his ear, but whatever else Lavi might or might not be to her, he was still her partner and her friend. "Will you help him?"
"What do I need to do?" Allen whispered.
"Cover for him. He's leaving as soon as he's done, and the longer it takes for them to figure out that he's gone, the better. If anyone asks where he is, tell them you've seen him somewhere. Can you do that?"
Allen gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Of course."
"Thank you."
"Where's he...?" Allen began, then he looked up, nonplussed, as someone knocked on the green room door.
Lenalee frowned, wiping her face. Who knocked at the green room?
Tyki Mikk, as it turned out. He poked his head in and looked around with the air of a man venturing into enemy territory. "Allen Walker?"
All heads turned toward Allen.
"Yeah?" Allen gave Lenalee a quick squeeze and stood up.
"I need to talk to you." Tyki had changed his shirt, but Lenalee could see the marks on his neck where the prongs had bitten into his skin.
"About what?" Allen asked.
"Not here," Tyki said, jerking his head toward the hallway.
"Allen, what's happening?" Lenalee asked. Tyki still had his make-up on, and it made his anxiety more evident.
"I don't know," Allen said.
"Come on, mate!" Tyki said, losing patience. "Would I be here if it wasn't an emergency?"
He had a good point. "Go," Lenalee said. "I'm fine."
Allen squeezed her hand. "I'll be right back," he said, and Lenalee watched him go before turning her attention back to the monitor as Fou took Allen's place on the sofa beside her.
Link dances to Green Grow the Rushes by REM, Tyki dances to Making Plans for Nigel by XTC, and Lavi dances to Lovesong by The Cure.