A/N: This is my first real fanfic, and the plotline actually came from an idea I had for a one-shot doujin that I started but never finished. Please R/R, as I'm sure I could use the critiques, but please don't crush my fragile self-confidence. ; Also, yes, I think Jasdero was the more "dominant" personality, pre-awakening. And I'm really, really sorry if this is terribly OOC. D:

Warning: Contains a lot of violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray-man or Jasdevi. If I did, I'd center the whole manga plot around 'em.

--

Fall. Certainly not his favorite time of year. The leaves always fell on his head while he walked, entangling themselves in his hair, forcing him to stop and pick them out one by one. How annoying.

A cool breeze, foreshadowing the onset of a dreadful winter, swirled around his face, sweeping his long, two-toned hair back off his shoulders, and he reached up to scratch the rough linen bandage that was haphazardly tied around his forehead. The wind pulled at his dirty tunic as he swallowed and stared around the park. It was nearly deserted, with the exception of the hoard of boys playing catch by the water's edge.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the crisp air through his nose. It carried the scent of dry leaves and sunshine, but all he could smell was his own terror.

He just had to get past the boys. That was all. He had already escaped from everyone else. He knew he could never get away from his past, from what he had done, but getting away from his hometown was a start.

Once he got past these boys, he'd be free.

But freedom was never that easy.

--

The freckled boy saw him first. This boy was certainly not the strongest or brightest of the group, but something about him inspired fear like none of the others could. Maybe the fact that his name was Bernard had something to do with it. Perhaps he was trying to make up for having such a… what was the word? Lousy? Ridiculous? Puny? He pondered. Any of those would probably suit the name Bernard.

But such thoughts did not change the fact that Bernard was now approaching him.

"OI!"

Why was it that his feet always refused to move in the most desperate of situations?

"YOU! FREAK!"

His mind clouded. He could not run. He could not scream, and even if he could, no one would ever hear him.

"Hey Jasdeeeevi." Bernard sneered down at him, emphasizing his hate for both the boy and his name by stressing the "E". The gaggle of boys that had followed him chuckled stupidly. Bernard gestured to the bandage around his forehead. "Why're ya wearin' a hair band? I thought only girls wore hair bands!"

"He is a girl!"

"SHE is a girl!"

More laughter.

In, out, in, out, in, out… Jasdevi tried to focus on his breathing. Anything to keep emotion from showing itself on his face. Once the gang caught sight of even a hint of fear, he knew that would be the end of him. And if they started to threaten him, or beat him up… Jasdevi gulped. He knew he couldn't control what he was capable of doing to people, and that, more than anything, terrified him.

Bernard reached forward, wrapped his dirty fingers around a clump of long blonde hair, and yanked. Hard. Jasdevi winced as he felt himself stumble backwards into the boy's chest.

"She loves you, Bern!"

"She wants to give you a kiss!"

Too slow to think up a clever comeback, Bernard laughed, a loud, clear laugh, before he took hold of Jasdevi's shoulders and pushed him into one of the gang's largest members. A low cackle, much more like a growl than a giggle, erupted from the teenage boy and he proceeded to shove Jasdevi toward one of his other large friends. Soon, the game escaladed into a violent version of Keep Away.

"Why're ya wearing such dirty clothes, huh?"

"How come your hair's two different colors?"

"You too poor to buy shoes, huh? Is that it?"

"You're just a loser, ain'tchya?!"

Bruises now sprinkled Jasdevi's lanky body and stars began to pop up in front of his eyes, but he refused to fight back. He couldn't let that happen twice. "Stop it," he mumbled. It wasn't a plea; on the contrary, it was meant as a warning.

But it only resulted in more taunts.

"Aw, she said something!"

"Maybe we shouldn't be hittin' a girl!"

"You're right." Bernard reached forward and snatched Jasdevi away from one of his friends' grasp. He spun the boy around so they were face to face, his cold gray eyes meeting Jasdevi's hazel ones. "We gotta treat the girl with respect."

The gray eyes flickered upward momentarily, resting on Jasdevi's bandage. "Why'dya wear that thing, freak?" The question was laced with more sarcasm than curiosity. Jasdevi blinked and said nothing.

Suddenly, with unexpected agility, Bernard's hand shot forward and ripped off the bandage, taking quite a few strands of long hair with it. Jasdevi's eyes widened considerably and his already pale skin turned a pure white. He stumbled away from the bully's grasp, trying fruitlessly to cover his forehead with his hands. Bernard and the rest of the group made no move to restrain him. All they could do was stare, horrified, at the boy's head.

All around it, like some sort of demented crown, was a pattern of identical cross-shaped markings. Each was dark with fresh blood that had begun to ooze down in little rivulets. Jasdevi groped for his tunic, gathered it up in a bunch, and tried used it to stem the flow.

"Monster." Bernard spoke first. He lifted his knee and swiftly kicked Jasdevi in the ribs, causing him to drop his makeshift bandage and fall to the ground, gasping for air. He repeated the kick several times, taking great care to aim for the exact same spot, before stepping back and admiring his work. The slender boy was now quite obviously delirious with pain, as he had begun muttering indiscernible nonsense under his breath, eyes tightly shut. Fresh blood now mixed with the dirt and stains in his tunic and Bernard wouldn't have been surprised if he had broken a couple of the boy's ribs. "We gotta kill the monster," he said with an air of finality, "Can't have it getting into town and eating all the farmers' animals, neh?" Jasdevi did not react to his words. Bernard frowned and repeated the first sentence a little louder. "WE GOTTA KILL THE MONSTER."

Jasdevi opened his eyes just as Bernard brought one heavy-soled shoe down onto his face. There was a loud CRACK and blood began to pour from his nose like water from a tap.

The gang began to laugh and slap each other's shoulders in appreciation of their leader's superiorly brutal beatings. Bernard grinned down at him, his boot still resting on Jasdevi's face, "Had enough yet, girly?" He brought his head down so it was level with Jasdevi's. The boy was nearly unconscious; he surveyed his abuser through half-lidded eyes, blood from his nose coating his face. Bernard grinned again. "Gotta kill the monster…" he sang quietly before raising his fist and landing one last blow to Jasdevi's skull.

--

Blackness. That was all that he could see, stretched on for what must have been miles. No, hundreds, maybe thousands of miles. And then the bright lights came. All different colors. They sparkled and glittered, like fairies.

I guess I'm in heaven now. Jasdevi thought to himself. This world certainly seemed to fit his idea of heaven, with its colorful lights that blinked and danced in front of his eyes.

Don't be stupid, scoffed what he assumed was his conscience. Like we'd ever go to heaven. After what we did.

Jasdevi considered this. I guess… Well, at least now that I'm dead it can't happen again.

We're not dead, idiot. And we ain't gonna die. Not now, anyway.

You mad or something? 'Cause you seem really angry-

Yeah, well, you know, you're too soft sometimes. If you didn't worry about crap like preventing stuff like that from happening again-

Then what do you think we should do?

If a conscience could grin, Jasdevi was sure that that's what his was doing. Just leave it to me.

--

"Haha, hey, Bern, is he still breathing?"

"Didja really kill him? 'Cause if you did, we're all screwed,"

"Nah, his heart's still pumpin'. Little freak," Bernard added loftily, looking down at the unconscious boy beneath the sole of his boot. The fragile, broken body had begun to twitch. Bernard smiled, wondering if perhaps he had driven the monster to insanity. The convulsions became more prominent, to the point where even the gang members noticed, though most of them merely laughed.

Suddenly, a sickening CRACK rang through the cool air, followed immediately by a piercing scream. The gang looked around in confusion to find their leader rolling on the ground, clutching his shin. Even in the muted light of dusk, each boy could see the bone was sticking out at a strange angle, pushing against the skin. Bernard kept screaming, tears flowing from his eyes with the same intensity as the blood from Jasdevi's broken nose.

A few of the boys began to step backward, obviously eager to escape the gruesome scene before them, but the rest of the group continued to stare, horrified. Not at their leader, but at the boy who had been unconscious only moments before.

Jasdevi was on his feet, breathing heavily. But there was something different about him. He no longer seemed timid and afraid; quite the contrary, in fact. He was standing straight, despite his obviously fractured ribs and broken nose. His hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes glinted maliciously. The blood that ran down his face had dried somewhat, making him seem all the more horrifying. But what scared the gang most was his expression. He was smiling, a Cheshire cat-like grin that was one part humorous and ninety-nine parts sadistic.

The air around them felt heavy, and it seemed to pulse, almost as if it was alive. It pressed against the boys' ears, muffling the sounds of Bernard, who was still shrieking on the ground. Jasdevi took one step forward, then another, and then another, his movements jerky and harsh. Even the largest of the boys were afraid; this… this person, this monster… it couldn't be the same scared little boy they had beaten half to death, could it?

Jasdevi stopped walking. His maniac grin faded into an unnervingly calm stare and he surveyed the line of boys, who were trying their best to look as tough as possible. He looked down and smiled to himself, then raised his palm toward the boys.

He opened his mouth, dried blood cracking as he spoke:

"We're not sorry."

--

The pain was excruciating, like being repeatedly stabbed with thousands of white-hot needles. Each nerve screamed in protest as the dozen or so boys collapsed in agony. Jasdevi strolled over to them, eyes wide as he watched his torturers writhe and moan like meaningless insects. One of the boys locked his gaze with Jasdevi's. His blue eyes were filled with tears of pain and… was that regret? Sorrow? Jasdevi stared, unmoved. It was too late for regret. And besides, this boy's pain would end soon enough.

Sure enough, just as the sun sunk below the horizon, the screams faded into nothingness.

It was the loudest silence that Jasdevi had ever heard.

--

The first light of dawn revealed a gruesome scene of broken, lifeless bodies partially hidden by early morning fog. Standing in the center of the battleground were two young boys, one with dark hair, the other with gold. Their gray skin glistened with a mixture of sweat and moisture from the fog that surrounded their small frames like a blanket.

Distant footsteps made the dark haired boy look around, glaring, while the blonde stared up at him with wide eyes. After squinting through the fog with pursed lips for a good thirty seconds, the dark haired boy took a few steps backward, rested his hand on the blonde boy's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, silently telling him not to worry.

The footsteps grew louder and the blonde straightened up, clutching onto the dark haired boy's arm as if his life depended on it. The sound of cold grass crunching underneath boots echoed across the deserted park, ringing in the boys' ears. The dark haired boy crouched down, and the blonde immediately followed suit. Two pairs of gold eyes anxiously darted left and right as they silently began formulating a plan as what they would do if their fears were confirmed: if this unwelcome visitor discovered them and what they had done.

Deep in thought, neither of the boys noticed when the noise of the approaching footsteps turned to silence. Then, from directly behind them came:

"…Two?"

At the sound of the voice, the blonde boy gasped while his companion spun around, snarling. When his narrowed gaze fell upon the figure staring up at him, he stopped short.

A girl?

She was a small child, with short, dark hair that stuck up in odd angles, and she was slowly spinning what looked like a bright pink umbrella. Her large blue eyes (which were busy taking in both boys' appearances) were partially obscured by a huge, multi-colored lollipop held in front of her round face.

"Two of them?" she said, licking her candy. "I guess that makes sense. Still... It's pretty rare."

She pushed passed the dark haired boy, obviously not affected by his growling or death stares, and made her way toward the blonde one, who was crouched on the balls of his feet, his hands dug into the soft earth to keep himself steady.

Snapping her strange pink umbrella closed in a very matter-of-fact fashion, she kneeled down so she and the boy were eye-level. He leaned back ever so slightly and glanced over at the black haired boy, who was watching the girl intently, a sour expression on his face.

The girl studied the blonde for a moment, her eyes squinted, before extending her hand toward his forehead. The dark haired boy made a sound like an angry cat and darted toward them. The girl looked over her shoulder, glared at him, and, surprisingly, he came to a stop, looking furious. Shaking her head, she turned back to the blonde and used the back of her left hand to smooth back the long strands of hair that covered his forehead. There were the stigmas, clearly visible, black as charcoal against the ashen tone of his skin. She smiled at him, then stood, and helped him to his feet.

"What is your name?" she asked, her tone as sweet as the candy clenched in her fist.

That did it. The dark haired boy shoved the girl aside and stood protectively in front of the other. Cautiously, he opened his mouth, "…Why do you care, huh? Why don't you just leave us alone?"

She stared at him coolly, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. It was clear that, wherever she came from, no one ever spoke to her like that. "Then what about you, hmm? Why don't you tell me your name?"

"Doesn't really matter, 'cause now we're gonna have to kill you anyway!" the boy replied slyly. "You know what we can do, now that you've seen this." He gestured to the bodies that littered the ground. "So stop asking us stupid questions!"

The girl remained unmoved. Then, without warning, her hand shot out toward the dark haired boy, her tiny fingers closing on a shaggy clump of his bangs.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" he sputtered, trying to pry open her vice-like grasp

"You see those?" She stared at the markings on his own forehead. The boy stopped squirming. Sensing that she had finally gotten his attention, the girl continued, "Those aren't just ordinary cuts. They're… special."

The boy slapped her hand away from his hair and scoffed. "Special, eh?"

"Yes. They are the mark of a select few who carry… certain genes." The girl was obviously enjoying keeping them in the dark.

The boy sighed, frustrated. "You're shitting me," he said bluntly, "You obviously don't know what the hell's going on with us."

The small girl's eyes flashed. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Her smile was a sickly sweet, almost poisonous. "Wanna bet?"

The temperature of the morning air seemed to drop a couple degrees with her last sentence. The blonde boy shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. The dark haired boy stared down at her, glaring. Then the impossible happened. The girl's peach-pink skin dulled and darkened, her pupils began to yellow, and, as though an invisible stamp was being pressed against the skin… the stigma appeared. There was no mistaking it now; this girl was telling the truth.

The dark haired boy unconsciously raised his hand to his own scars, tracing them with the tips of his fingers. The now golden eyes of the girl watched him carefully, her smile growing wider as she said: "So… would you like to tell me your names now?"

Jolted out of his own thoughts, the dark haired boy blinked twice and swallowed. "We…" He trailed off, glancing somewhat nervously over at the other boy, "I'm… Devi…t. My name… is Devit. And he's…"

"Let him say it." The girl raised her hand, extinguishing the boy's stutters.

The blonde looked startled, then apprehensive. He nervously fingered the long strands of dirty hair that framed his face and ran down his back. Finally, he drew in a shuddery breath, closed his eyes, and whispered, "Jas… Jasdero. Together…"

Devit continued for him. "Together, we are Jasdevi."

The girl smiled, a genuine smile; one that was not intended to make young children cower in fear. She walked over to Jasdero, slipping her small hand into his.

"My name is Road Kamelot. I've come to take you home."