A/N: Hi, guys! So this is a new story that I'm cycling in now that Sweet Dreams is done. I've only got a few chapters done, but I have an approximate plan for the next, like, twenty-five. So that should last me nicely. *amused*

Title: Synchronization

Author: liketolaugh

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Genre: Friendship/Family

Warnings: Slight AU

Summary: Innocences have their own wants, personalities, souls - Allen doesn't understand what's so strange about this. But then, he's always been able to see them. (Series of oneshots through the manga. Mostly canon-compliant. Maybe eventually turn AU.)

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.

Allen didn't like humans.

Allen had never liked humans, and that… hadn't changed, really, no matter what impression he liked to give off.

Oh, certainly, there were individual people that he liked. Mana, most importantly. And Master, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise - an irritating man he was.

But in general, Allen did not like humans. He thought that they were cruel, and cold, and complicated, and otherwise difficult to be around.

That didn't mean that he had no friends, of course.

Allen shivered.

?!

A soft whimper escaped his throat, and, slowly, his trembling right hand reached up to brush the bandages over the left side of his face. He blinked, and his vision slid into focus.

A hand, cool and gentle, grasped his wrist and tugged it away from his face. Allen blinked again, swallowed, and looked at its owner.

?

Concerned, bright green eyes met his. Beside Allen, holding his wrist lightly, was a freckled boy with neat orange-red hair, maybe fourteen years old, wearing an open olive jacket over a dirt-brown shirt, khakis, and white gloves. As Allen watched, the boy shifted his grip to hold Allen's hand instead, curling his fingers around Allen's.

Worry.

"C-Crown Clown?" Allen whispered. His voice was quiet, nearly inaudible, and cracked badly somewhere in the middle. Still, Crown Clown smiled, warm and relieved.

Relief. Happiness.

Allen couldn't bring himself to smile in return; tears glimmered in his uncovered eye, and when he spoke again, it was high and miserable. "I'm sorry."

Crown Clown's smile vanished and his expression turned solemn. Apology. With his free hand, he reached up and softly brushed the spilling tears away. Regret. Apology.

Allen's breath hitched, and he leaned his head into the touch, shaking slightly, mind struggling to work. "Wh-what happened?" Why did his throat hurt so much?

The other's face slid into impassivity, which would have concerned Allen more if it weren't normal for Crown Clown. Images, brief but vivid, flickered behind Allen's eyes.

Allen, catatonic. And then, Allen by the grave, bleeding, Crown Clown unable to get his attention. A man with red hair, picking him up and carrying him away. An old woman bandaging his face. Waiting.

Allen's face crumpled slightly, and he hid his face in his knees. "Oh," he whispered. So Mana… he'd really killed Mana. Mana was really dead. And none of it had been a dream, a bad dream, so Mana…

Crown Clown squeezed his hand. Reassurance.

Allen's breath hitched again, and he felt Crown Clown move to hold him, warm and gentle and loving, and he started to cry, in silent, miserable sobs.

He was sorry, he was so, so sorry, Mana…

Crown Clown held him and comforted him in soft tones, gentle and familiar, rocking him like he was a tiny child again.

Crown Clown had been there for Allen for as long as Allen could remember. No one else could see him, but Allen had never cared. He never even cared about Crown Clown's odd way of communicating - not better, not worse, but different, and hard to understand. But worth it. Worth it to know what Crown Clown wanted to say to him, what he meant by those feelings and pictures and impressions.

And then later, with Mana, it was worth learning words again. To know what Mana said.

Allen cried for a long time. But no one could cry forever, and finally, he stirred and sat up, wiping at his eyes, still sniffling.

It was at this moment that the door opened, and Allen glanced up, tears still drying on his face, to find the red-haired man from graveyard, back turned as he closed the door.

The man turned around, and his eyes, bored and with a hint of something unreadable, met Allen's.

He nearly flinched, eyes widening slightly in surprise, and Allen tilted his head to look at him, his long hair, his ponytail, his bone-white mask.

"Who are you?" he whispered at last, the dryness of his throat audible in his voice.

The man stepped forward, and Allen noticed another man behind him, with long, messy brown hair, broad shoulders, and bright green eyes like Crown Clown's, wearing denim overalls and a white shirt, with sturdy brown boots.

"General Cross Marian," the man said at last, striding forward to drop into the chair beside Allen's bed, crossing his arms and lounging back casually. All signs of surprise were gone from his eyes. "It's about time you put yourself together, kid."

The brown-haired man followed Cross silently and stood just behind him, studying Allen intently, a small frown on his face. Cross ignored him.

"I need to talk to you about what happened at the graveyard," Cross continued, lighting up a cigarette. "How much did you understand?"

Allen swallowed. He shrugged. "What's an akuma?" Suddenly, Crown Clown's hand felt heavy on his shoulder. The brown-haired man's eyes sharpened.

"None of it, then," Cross muttered, looking mildly put out.

Allen shrugged again and looked over Cross' shoulder to the brown-haired man. Cross' brow furrowed and he followed Allen's gaze, and then frowned in confusion. "What?" Cross asked.

"Who are you?" Allen asked the man, voice quiet.

Cross looked back at him sharply, and that strange emotion reentered his eyes - concern, Allen realized with a little confusion of his own. "Kid…"

The green-eyed man's eyes also lit up with surprise, and then a smirk, small and a little forced, came over his face. Crown Clown smirked at him, green eyes faintly amused.

Justice. The face of the executioner. The gates of Heaven and Hell. A heart against a feather, a lightning strike, the hand of Fate.

Allen considered for a short moment, and then asked, "Judgement?"

Cross' eyes widened.

Judgement's smirk widened, and he nodded, looking almost... impressed.

"You can see Innocence," Cross breathed, and there was no taking back the genuine amazement in that voice. Allen tilted his head, and then looked at Crown Clown in question.

"Innocence?" he asked the other boy.

And Crown Clown smiled.

I'm actually pretty pleased about this one, even if I was a bit anxious for a while. Is the communication style too weird? (That's mostly for reference for future stories, it's not changing.) Do you like Crown Clown and Judgement? Thanks for reading, and please review!

Edited 1/17/16: Inserted clothing.