Disclaimer: D. Gray Man is the property of Hoshino Katsura-sama.

"This is as far as I can go with you."

"I understand."

And he walks and walks - long past even when it felt like his shoes were cutting the skin of his feet.

But he was lucky to even have shoes, he considers. Road's aid may have been on a whim, but unexpected as it had come, he quickly realizes it had been sorely welcome. Where otherwise he would have no opportunity to bring anything, and would've traveled in bedclothes until God knows when, she had instead fetched for him a clean set of clothing and shoes - even a light jacket, a water canteen and some bread stolen from the kitchens.

"As you don't know when your next meal is." She had said, with an almost laugh. A wistful pause, and then:

"Changed your mind yet?"

He had worse. And he tells her so, despite feeling a little guilty at her almost hopeful tone.

For a moment, he could've sworn her eyes flashed angry gold. But thankfully, she does not press on.

The most useful things she had brought him, were, of course a compass and hand-drawn map.

"Father doesn't need those." She had said with a shrug. "Do you think you can make it to Chigwell?"

Ten miles. It was long for a partial eve to cover - and certainly longer than the most he and Mana had travelled together in a few hours. But, he was determined to and...

"I'll have to."

He is surprised when she smiles at that.

"That's right... Keep walking."

Vaguely, he wonders just how much she was involved with all of this.

It was nearly daybreak when he stumbles into the town.

There was no exhilaration. No feeling of accomplishment. All he could feel was his endless exhaustion.

But there was to be no rest yet. He permits a long moment for his mind to override the stinging pain before slowly - painfully - he hobbles about in search for a sleeping place. Much of his search brought only disappointment, but, the dilapidated church at the end of town had a open door.

His eyes widening happily, he pushes until it was wide enough for him to creep in.

He claims a bench and exhaustion soon enough spills over his conscious will.

He wakes up bound to a chair.

"EHHH!?"

Stern hazel eyes - an unfamiliar woman in full uniform - stood before him.

"Speak!" Demands the officer. "What have you done with my partner? Just you wait, soon we will round up your companions-"

"What are you talking about!" He wails. "I was just looking for a place to sleep!"

The officer's eyes - though still suspicious - softens a little at that.

"You..." She says hesitantly. "...really don't know...?"

"Know?" He repeats, almost in awe. "Know ... what? I know my back hurts - officer, do you just go around arresting people with absolutely no evidence?"

She flushes at that. "Well, this ... that's-"

They were interrupted by the sounds of multiple explosions. And then a sharp cry came from downstairs.

"Charles!"

He watches her rush off.

What. She was just going to leave him here?

"Really?" He splutters, indignant.

But complaining was no use - he was going to get out. Nothing that officer could come up with would possibly be worse than what the bullies at the circus used to do to him for sport.

Several moments of struggle passed before the bindings loosened slightly. He squirms, and made sure to dig his fingers well into the knots. A hiss of pain - it wasn't as if he could use that paralyzed hand for the finer work, after all.

His patience was rewarded when the bindings finally fell.

He rubs his raw fingertips tenderly against his shirt muttering more grumbled curses.

What sort of idiot rushes into danger?

Her. His mind unhelpfully supplied. And him.

He huffs - no, he was finding her only to let her know a piece of his mind.

She was standing in awed horror at the base of the stairs - staring at a crumbling pillar.

And he is in surprise too as he draws next to her - not at the gaping holes that he could've sworn wasn't there before embedded in the column - but at the body of an officer splayed against the structure, blood splattering like a horrible black crucifix.

A gasping groan came from the man.

He's still alive. He realizes.

Then black pentagrams swiftly sweeps over pale skin and as the flesh turns the color of charcoal -

Danger! DANGER! His mind screams to him.

He pulls the officer along by the hand even as the body they left behind crumbled in a shower of dust and smoke.

He doesn't stop running until they were upstairs.

"That..." He gasped. "What was-"

He does not have the time to be shocked when she collapses in his arms.

"Officer!"

It wasn't difficult to hazard a guess which building in town was the police station. And it was even less surprising when they promptly arrested him.

Formally, this time.

"What I am saying is, Chief, I don't know-" He repeats with irritation.

What was he supposed to say? That the other officer was killed by cannons that somehow reduced the body to dust? He'll end up institutionalized!

A shout from the next room told him the officer he rescued had awakened. Soon enough, within moments, she was pulled into the room.

"His name is Allen Walker." Grunts the Chief. "Age, unknown."

He jumps when the man's fist made angry contact with the table.

"You did it, didn't you!?"

"I told you I didn't!" He protests. "I just brought the officer here!"

"It's weird you were in the Church in the first place-"

"I said I was a traveler looking for a place to pass the night!"

"-and look at this hand!" The Chief snatched up his left arm. "This red, it must be blood-"

Upon noticing the texture, the hands that were grappling his paralyzed arm promptly freezes.

Shock and disgust filled the Chief's features.

"What ... the hell? What do you think you are pulling?"

A shaky finger wagged before his face.

"Your body is a gift from your parents! Doesn't it hurt burning a cross in your hand - you damned psychopath!"

He chews on his lip, biting back a retort.

"Wait ... Chief..." Spoke up the female officer. "This boy was with me during the whole incident."

That got the rotund man's attention, who promptly rounded on the officer.

"Sorry about that..." The officer - or Miss Moore Hesse, as he knows by now - apologizes to him as they were finally released.

"My ears are never going to be the same again." He moans.

"It's just frustrating for him." She said, along with a tiny, sad laugh. "...all these deaths ... but not a single clue."

"That was strange." He mutters. "I didn't see any cannons."

"Of course not." She affirms. "We already searched that building many times."

"And yet people are still dying if they spend a evening there."

"Yes."

He stares at her.

"Why don't the town just tear this Church down?"

"We considered it." She says softly. "But no one could bring themselves to."

He listens.

"Two years ago, an incident befell the head pastor and his bride in this Church. Their wedding day ... it was supposed to be a happy event. But a loose screw in the chandelier... And just like that, everything was over."

"They both died?" He asks curiously.

"No." She answers. "The bride pushed her beloved out of the way. She lost her life ... but the pastor survived."

"She must have loved him very much."

"Yes." He could've sworn there were tears glistening in her eyes. "Very."

"If you have nowhere else to stay for the time being, you are more than welcome in my home."

"Are you sure?" He is hesitant. "Your Chief doesn't seem to trust me."

She laughs at that.

"He doesn't trust anyone. It's part of his occupation. And Allen... As you have said, there is no evidence."

He smiles a little at that.

"Then," he says. "As I do need to catch up on sleep, I can't politely refuse."

His stomach took that moment to make itself known.

Flushing, his arms instinctively wrap around his abdomen.

And she laughs again, more brilliantly this time.

"...why don't we take care of that problem first?"

She was generous, offering to treat him as an apology for the previous night. But years of having manners hammered into him taught him restraint. Granted, he was far from full when they finished breakfast at the pub ... but he was a little proud of biting back the want for more.

Especially when he learns that she had a crippled brother at home.

As she speaks comforting words to the ailing man, he realizes:

The story she was telling earlier...

"This person... Isn't he-"

"Yes, Allen. Pastor Mark is my brother. It was ... my sister, who passed away."

"I'm sorry." He murmurs.

"Don't be."

And he watches as the man mumbles nonsensical words about hunger.

She permits him to rest and he does not rouse until dinnertime.

"Let me help." He offers, reaching for the knife even as she refuses.

"You don't have to." She insists, pulling arm and bowl of untouched pears away.

Her brother wheels himself into the room, the grind of metal commanding their attentions.

The other was shaking.

"My ... stomach ..." Came the gasped words. "...starving..."

In concern, Moore went to the other's side.

His eyes widen at the crippled pastor's next declaration:

"Let ... me ... KILL!"

He pulls her back just as in an explosion of flesh and metal, what was once Pastor Mark became a grotesque balloon of metal.

Cannons! He thought.

"Down!" He snaps, the harshness of the word breaking her daze.

(He doesn't hesitate to shove her towards the ground too.)

Bullets soared past their heads, exploding the living room wall.

As smoke spilled everywhere from the crash of debris and the cold evening wind permeated, taking her hand, he pulls her along and flees.

He could've sworn a eerily familiar laugh followed them into the night.

A/N: In my last D. Gray Man fic, Moore became a person who helped Allen at his worst - during his Noah transformation. Here I wanted her to have an effect on him too as the first good-natured real human he has met.

Apologies to the delay in the start of the real adventure, but it will be soon I promise.