Yo. Thought you were going to go another month without an update, didn'cha?

Happy very belated April Fool's.

Sorry it took so long. Lost motivation for almost everything and had to dedicate myself to studying so I wouldn't slack off at school (I still did, but not too badly). I'm getting back into the swing of things, though.

Thanks for everyone's favs, follows, and reviews. They are very much appreciated.

Stay shiny. *jazz hands*

-JD

Disclaimer: I own some concepts and original characters. DGM and its characters are all Hoshino-sensei's.

As it turned out, Bookman told him to allow Allen to remember things by himself first. It was frustrating and confusing to Allen, but the alternative wasn't that much greater either. It wasn't likely that Allen would accept the explanation all that well and he'd lose trust in him. Not that Allen had a lot of trust as it was.

Even though a week had already passed, he was still very cautious around him even as he stayed close…well, he was cautious around any man near him. It wasn't that they noticed either, you'd have to be paying close attention, something he'd been trained to do. So when groups of finders or scientists passed too closely to Allen and he started watching the floor, his body closer to him than before, he noticed. When Allen would start sweating a little around large groups, he noticed. His demeanor would change and he'd become more muted, barely saying a word.

His behavior around women had a stark difference. Even around stiff women like Head Nurse, he had an ease in his shoulders that he didn't have when the two were alone. He talked more easily to Lenalee and female finders and scientists. Heck, he warmed up to Miranda pretty quickly once she'd returned from a mission—she'd been nervous, considering her past experiences with children, but remembering that he was still Allen reassured her.

In general though, he was quite respectful to anyone older than him.

So when Timothy returned with Nine, Lavi was more than a little curious to see what would happen.

"Al…len?"

Said boy turned around to see who called his name. He blinked in what Lavi assumed was surprise at seeing a kid seemingly younger than him in the building; he even still had his uniform on.

"Uhm yeah?" his head tilted, "Do I…know ya?"

Timothy gave him a bit of a distraught look, and Nine glanced at Lavi meaningfully. When he mouthed the problem over to the woman, her visible eye narrowed, but she didn't seem angry or anything of the sort.

"Uhhh…I mean, I uh—" he stopped abruptly.

Lavi could sort of guess what just happened, especially when Allen staggered to the side a little. Honestly, he was a bit surprised by his reaction, too. Remembering something just from seeing the kid's face? That's the strongest reaction he'd had to anyone since they returned to the Order.

"Ahh…you're…Timothy," the boy replied brokenly.

"Yeah, Allen! What happened to ya? You're a lot smaller now! And what was with your eyes?"

"M' eyes?"

"Yeah! They started flashing and stuff for a minute. It was kinda cool, to be honest!"

"I dunno. I ne'er noticed anythin' weird with'em before," he mumbled, rubbing at his lower right eyelid.

"Eh, it doesn't matter. It was still cool! Hey, I have some free time. Wanna hang out for a bit?" Timothy asked, clearly curious about Allen as he was now.

The white haired boy gave Lavi a short glance, and he made sure to give him a reassuring smile and a nod.

"Yeah, I can hang out," he stepped forward, nearly not acknowledging anyone else anymore, "Wha'd'ya wanna do?"

The little boy grinned at him before taking his hand, "Aww man, I've got this great idea! C'mon!"

Allen let the boy pull him away, giving a small nod to Nine before the two set off down the hallway, Timothy no doubt leading him to some sort of trouble. When they were completely out of sight, she walked forward.

"Memory loss."

"And de-aging, to boot. He's a strange kid," he laughed.

"I imagine so," her head tilted a bit, "He walks rather quietly for a child his age."

"Hmm…true, but he's also 12—yeah, I know, I didn't think it either at first…Either way, he knows how to, at least."

Her visible eyebrow raised, "I imagine there's something else involved."

He gave her an ambivalent smile, one that hid everything, "Yup!"

She hummed in resignation, deciding not to pry.

"So ya just popped up there? You didn't know where you were or anything?"

"Nope."

"Yikes, sounds freaky," Timothy replied, still holding Allen's hand as they headed toward his quarters, "Hey, since you're small n' all, how much do ya remember about me?"

Allen thought for a moment before responding, "Kinda rememb'r gettin' hit n' tha' head first meetin' ya…no? Not th' first. E'ther way. Then…" his eyes glittered before calming, "there w's n' attack 'r somethin'."

"Oh, right, that…ehehe. Oh hey, were ya awake in my body? How'd that feel?" he looked back, genuinely curious.

"Mmh…I don' think I w's awake…where're we goin?"

Timothy looked back at him and grinned, "Have ya ever skated before?"

"Skate?"

"Yeah! See, I have these really cool skates, so maybe you could try them out? I mean…" he slowed down, "now that I think about it, I dunno if your feet will fit. They're a bit bigger than mine…but we can try it!"

Allen gave him a small smile, "I mean, if y' wanna let me try 'em, I don' mind tryin'."

So, as it turned out, he kind of minded. Everything felt unsteady and he wasn't sure if he knew how to stop. Either way, he allowed himself to be pushed along, Timothy's hands on his back, the boy giggling. It was actually getting pretty fun, even to the point where Timothy would push him harder a few times to let him roll on further ahead. As long as Allen kept his legs straight, everything was fine. He let himself start smiling too, enjoying the air rustling through his hair.

Well, it was, but then a man holding a folder suddenly walked out into the hallway, not hearing the sound of playing kids. Allen, not seeing him until last minute, cried out one last time before the two collided. The man tripped up on the skates and fell as well, his papers and pictures flying out from the folder.

Timothy gasped as he ran down the hall, the other two men with the one that fell quickly checking to see if everyone was okay.

"Oh no! Are ya okay Allen?" Timothy called, getting closer, "I think I pushed you too hard!"

"Mmhh…" he sat up, rubbing at his forehead, "'M fine, 'ts okay," then turned to the man he'd knocked into and clammed up.

"Oh shoot, I've got to watch where I'm going. Heard you guys and didn't even think about it," the man muttered, gathering his papers into his hands as his colleagues helped, "Hey, are you…Mr. Walker?"

The other two man in white coats looked at their friend before their gaze fell on the exorcist. He was looking down and off to the side, his hands close to his stomach as he seemed to shrink in on himself as much as he could without balling up altogether. If one watched very closely, they'd notice the slight tremble to his fists as well.

"'M s'rry. I'll b'more careful…"

The men exchanged glances, not used to the white-haired boy being as reserved—or small for that matter. Heck, he seemed scared even. Timothy wasn't sure what to do either, gaze confused as he looked between the scientists and Allen.

"Uhmm…h-hey, it's okay, right?" one of them spoke up, going back to picking up papers.

"There's no trouble at all! No need to look worried!" the main one said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to reorganize the papers in the folder he'd dropped.

Allen still didn't say anything, but his shoulders seemed to relax. After a moment, he readjusted himself to where he was sitting more comfortably with the skates on and started pushing some of the pictures that had spread out on the ground toward the man with the folder. Timothy came closer and started to do the same thing, noticing what they were pictures of as he gathered some in a pile.

"Hey, who's this guy? He looks shady," Timothy asked, picking one up to see his face.

He had dirty blond hair, and it looked pretty messy all over his head. He had a purpling bruise on his cheek and a haunted look in his eyes that was almost too much for the little boy to look at. Allen opened his hand to take the picture, curious as well. When he saw it, his eyes narrowed and looked for a name marking on it, finding a code written on the back: Baron Wembley, A. 1853-05-07 (Fel.), Embez., HT., CL., Sod.

"Alexzander Wembly," Allen replied, turning it back over to the front, handing it to the main man.

"Well, it's Sir Alexander Wembley. He was an important informant and advisor to members of the Ministry—that's the main government in the UK—but now, well, he's in penal servitude. It's our job to find updates in information about what happens with the government," one of the historians replied, a slight bit of pride in his voice.

"There are some who focus on other things, like the myths surrounding certain areas to find the Innocence you guys search for, but that's not our jurisdiction."

"I guess you could say that we keep tabs on them," the main historian replied, winking.

Timothy laughed, pushing his stack of pictures over before making another one. One of the ones he picked up had the man's legs in view, no clothing on.

"Oooh gross, you can almost see it! You can almost see it!" Timothy shrieked—part playfully, part disgusted—holding the picture with his thumb and pointer finger far away from himself, eyes scrunched closed.

Allen sighed good-naturedly, taking the picture from him before he moved to give it back to the historians, looking at it. When he did, he seemed to look for something in particular before frowning. When he apparently didn't find what he was looking for, he turned the picture over to the other side, seeing the code again.

"Hmm… That's not 'im."

Everyone paused for a moment, processing what he said, before they all turned to him.

"W-what did you say?" the main research historian asked.

Allen looked up at him before he jolted, seeming to realize that he'd said that aloud. He looked off to the side again, not meeting the other's gaze, "Whoe'er took th' pic had Wembly clean 'is body off, right? Then tha's not 'im."

"…Are you saying you've…met him before? Might I ask how you know it's not him?" one of the researches asked.

Allen glanced at them just barely before he looked away again, drawing a finger in a circle on his right knee, "Wembly's got a scar. A kinda blotchy one righ' here tha' goes down t' the top ov 'is calf. Said 'e got it from'a knife fight, but I know that wazn't it. An' in the pic ov his face, he 'as green eyes, but really, 'is eyes 'er blue. Wembly'd wear some weird glass over the colored part ov 'is eye. The guy 'n the pic don' look like he 'as one and his eyes 'er actually green, so tha's not 'im. That's probably Herm'n."

"Her—what?"

"Herm'n…uh…Her-man. Zander tol' me he had'da doppel 'n he used 'im in 'is place while he…" Allen trailed off.

"While he what?" the main historian asked incessantly, scooting forward a bit, only to scoot back when Allen backed up.

"While 'e…uhm…" he glanced subtly at Timothy before looking away, "did som' shady stuff."

The research historians looked amongst each other, not sure what to say or do.

"Mr. Walker, this isn't something to play around with, you know that, right? Wembley was arrested for some pretty heavy things," one of them said, putting the remaining papers and pictures into its folder.

"Yeah, like payin' people wi' money that belongs t' someone else, 'n stealin' from tha' government, 'n payin' fer kids ta' work withou' getting' paid, right? Tha's why it's good t' have the right guy, right?" Allen replied coarsely, still not looking at the men, "I know wha' he tol' me."

The historians looked a bit startled at his harsh reply, yet at the same time, marveled at his knowledge of the pictured man's crimes, even without seeing the papers it was listed on. When one fo the men looked at the back of the pictures and realized that his full name wasn't written out, he opened his mouth, believing Allen.

"…Where did he do all of this?"

Allen seemed even tenser than before, but replied after bewildered look on Timothy's face, "A lotta places. Mostly Turkey."

One of them searched the papers they had before standing up, "Allen's right. Embezzlement, high theft, child labor, even the main location…it's all here. I…believe we should report this."

"We'll look further into it," the main man replied before turning back to Allen, "How did you know all of this?"

"…Uhm…ya got a pen 'n paper or somethin'?"

He gave the kid a confused look before deciding against questioning that, reaching over to be handed the folder he dropped. When his colleage gave it to him, he searched through the now unorganized documents for a blank sheet. When he found one, he took it out, and dug into his jacket pocket for a pen, giving both to Allen. The boy muttered a quick thanks, still not quite looking at him, before he started writing something in Turkish. When he finished, he handed them both back to the man.

"Komui'll wha' that means."

"Right," he replied, putting his pen away, "Uhm…thank you, Mr. Walker."

Allen hummed, finally starting to try to get up, even with the skates on. At that point, Timothy had snapped out of his daze and rushed over to help the older boy up. The historians watched for a second before they decided they needed to get moving again, hurrying off down the hallway.

Timothy helped Allen get to his knees near one of the walls.

"Oh geez, uh…lemme hold your hands this time instead. I mean, if you wanna keep trying?"

"…Sure, I guess," he replied, holding his hands up.

Timothy took them and held on tightly as Allen stood the rest of the way up, legs a tad shaky before he straightened himself out.

"Okay, I'mma pull you forward."

Allen nodded, watching his feet as they started moving.

For a few moments, the two were silent as Timothy slowly pulled Allen through the hallway, not paying attention to any passing people. The younger boy almost felt like sweating from the awkwardness, but, per Tsukikami's silent advice, he decided to try talking to break the awkwardness.

"Well, that was weird."

"Kinda…yeah."

"Hey, 'm sorry 'bout pushing you too hard. You sure you're okay?"

Allen looked at him before looking back down, nodding, "Yea."

"Good, good… Hey, how'd ya know so much about the guy in the picture?"

Without batting an eye, he replied, "I'mma massager…masseuse? Masseuse."

Timothy's eyes widened, "Huh, why'd they have you doing it?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes mostly on where his feet were going, "I dunno. Things 'er differ'nt in Turkey."

"Oh, that makes sense…hey, Allen," Timothy grinned at him, a slight flush coming onto his cheeks, "Have you ever touched a boob?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah."

Timothy actually stopped at the nonchalant way he said it. Allen looked up from his feet, a tad confused.

"Wait really? You've touched a boob?"

"I've touched a lotta boobs."

"What?! How?! When?!"

"Well, sometimes th' people wanted lotion on 'em when they got massaged, and if they 'er okay wi' me puttin' it on, sometimes I'd end up touching their boobs."

"You've touched a naked boob?!"

"Tha's…the only boobs I've touched?"

Timothy gave an embarrassed cry as he turned around, covering his beet red face, "H-how'd you do that without j-just burstin' into flames?! How many times have ya gotten hit in the head?"

"Well, I mean, a boob'z a boob. An' I only got hit a few times."

"…Out of ten times, how many would'ja get hit?" he asked, turning back toward him.

"Mhh…maybe two."

"Liar!"

"Nuh-uh."

Timothy stared straight into his silver eyes, and Allen stared straight back. At Allen's unrelenting resolve, he backed away, placing his arms in front of himself.

"Oh wow…y-you're not lying…" he then pointed at him exaggeratedly, eyes practically starlit, "A…a saint! You're a saint! Ya gotta tell me…how can I do that? How can I touch that many?"

"…Well first, ya get their consent, then—"

"Consent? Wait…you're tellin' me…all of them wanted you to touch their boobs?"

"Yeah. Well, they expected it at least."

"…Then why'd they hit you?"

"…Sometimes they got surprised anyway."

Timothy nodded in understanding, "Hmm, I figured that. Women are weird."

"…E'ryone is weird."

"Eh?"

"Nothin'."

Timothy pouted, taking Allen's hands again as he pulled him along, "C'moooooon, you can tell me!"

Allen resisted laughing at the look on his face, "Nope."

He stuck his tongue out in retaliation. Allen returned the sentiment before he continued talking.

"How'd you touch a boob?"

"Through their clothes, suddenly."

"Get consent first!" Allen barked, surprisingly adamant about it.

"Eeeeeehhh? But then there's no surprise!"

"Ya also get hit e'rytime."

"…True."

The two continued their playful banter as Timothy pulled Allen down the hallway. Eventually they got back into the swing of things and moved faster, but they went slow enough to keep talking.

It was endearing to those who didn't really hear what they were talking about.

Komui gazed at the papers before him as he listened to what the research historians told him.

"Herman, you say?"

"Yes, sir. If this is right, then the real Alexander Wembley is still out there," the main one replied, his stance straight.

"I see…who told you this?"

"Well, uhm…Allen Walker, sir."

His eyebrows rose, "Allen did?"

"Yes, sir. He said that he knew Wembley, but honestly, he didn't say how. He did leave a small note on the paper for you. He said you'd understand it."

"Alright, good. You all are dismissed for now."

"Th-thank you, Chief!" they replied, giving a quick bow before they left the office.

Once they were gone, he gazed at the note Allen left for him.

"'Müşteri', huh? Bridget."

"Yes, Chief?"

"I'll be honest, my Turkish is pretty rusty. What does this word mean?" he asked, angling the message toward her.

She read over it for a moment before replying.

"It means 'client', sir."

"Client...ah, that explains the...hmm... See if one of the higher Intelligence section members will investigate this further, and from there we'll determine whether to send the information to the Diplomatic sector or not. I recommend you see if Cohen is free."

She took the papers from him, humming lowly, "Please be sure that second stack is at least started on before I come back."

He grinned, "When have I not finished my paperwork?"

He laughed at the expression she gave him before she left. Once gone, his face grew a bit somber, but he was still decisive. Deciding to actually get work done, he got back to it.