SPADE

Disclaimer: I don't own D.Gray-man. You know this. Now read.

He didn't tell anyone about it. From the moment he picked it up, he was silent about it, slipping it into his pocket so Linali wouldn't see it.

Bookman knew. He didn't know what, exactly, but he could always sense whenever Lavi was carrying around emotional baggage of some kind. So, even though he didn't know its form, whether it was tangible, or simply lurking in his mind, he simply would turn to Lavi and let the same words fall from his lips.

Get rid of it. A Bookman has no need for a heart.

But he couldn't bring himself to throw it away.

He turned the small card over in his hand. He knew. Damned if he didn't know. He'd been there when Allen had received it.

This card…it was Allen's. It was from that deck.

Why it was lying on the ground, Lavi didn't know. It was the only one there. Where were the rest? With Allen? With the Noah? Scattered to the wind? He didn't know.

He stared at it, as if demanding it to give him the answers.

He hated it. Not knowing. He was a Bookman, and the first job of a Bookman was to know things. Know everything. Listen and learn and retain and know. So he hated not knowing. He hated not knowing what had happened. They only found the blood, and the card. Tim had been sent away before it ended.

Was he dead?

Lavi stopped himself from crushing the card at the thought.

He hated it. He hated everything right know.

He hadn't meant to get close to Allen. He wanted to know more about the boy, but so had Bookman. So it was fine. It was okay.

But at some point he began to realize he was using that as an excuse to be around the white-haired Exorcist. Allen had, just like with everyone else, managed to worm his way in with his sad smile and heavy burden, with his undying determination, his devotion to his cause.

Devotion. That hurt too. When he'd watched Tim's video, when that Noah had destroyed Allen's innocence, he felt his heart pop. Allen, who was completely devoted to his life as an Exorcist, had lost his most cherished possession. And it killed Lavi to think how Allen must have felt, losing the one thing that gave his life purpose.

And then to push aside such a crushing shock and order Timcanpy to flee with the innocence. Lavi couldn't have done it. But that was Allen. Selfless to the end.

That's probably what killed him.

Lavi bit his lip. No, don't think that. You don't know he's dead. You didn't see how it ended. You don't know.

A truly vicious cycle this train of thought, taking both comfort and agony in his lack of knowing.

But what else could he do?

For the millionth time since they'd found the scene, he felt a burning in the back of his eyes, and a thickness in his throat. Damn it, he wanted to cry. He wanted to just let out a long howl about this whole thing. It wasn't…FUCKING fair!

Again his fingers tensed, and again he stopped himself. This was all he had right now. And if the other were truly dead, it would be the last thing he would ever have of him. If he damaged it, he'd never forgive himself.

No. Bookman or no, he could never throw this away.

…Allen…

He let himself think it. He admitted to himself that it hurt. It hurt bad. It was crushing him. He allowed his mind to picture Allen's face, but he couldn't seem to recall Allen's smile no matter how hard he tried.

He hung his head.

A Bookman has no need for a heart.

But as he stood there, tenderly holding the card in hand and letting himself fall into thoughts of a person he feared he'd never see again, he knew.

He knew.