Wonderland Blues Chapter 1: The Rabbit, a d.gray-man fanfic

A/N: Another fic me and a friend did. As always it's Rabi x Allen...but this time we added a little something different

No one in their right mind would hold such a gathering like this in the open, but apparently some people had more courage than others. The weather was nice, the temperature well above seventy degrees with not a cloud in the sky; it was surprising since the last few days had been terribly hot, and this could only be an omen of what was to come. The streets were crowded with people cheering someone name, someone who could very well change how the country was run…or so they thought. Secrets were deadly…and in this case it would lead to the demise of a man people thought was a saint. A smirk…this little gestured meant it had already begun. But where did come from? The crowd? No…that was far too obvious; any one stupid enough to do something some like this around that many people deserve to be caught, and he didn't feel like getting caught today. Perching himself on one of the taller buildings, making sure there was noting spectacular about it he looked down upon everyone. He'd learned that bright buildings attracted more attention than he wanted, and he almost got his head smashed in once …it wasn't a pleasant feeling. But if had gotten captured his name would've been rendered useless…

His breathing was so very steady, thanking his now stable nerves for that. He wasn't afraid for what he was about to do, seeing that it wasn't his first time…no…he was excited. It had been days since he'd had this feeling, like he was about to walk through a door of the unknown and enjoy whatever happened. His balance was perfect, he never tilted, bobbed or lost focus because the would've meant putting the main objective on hold for a few seconds…He only had mere seconds and he couldn't miss a single one. This was his job, he was the one people called on when things needed to get done…

He was the White Rabbit…the one that couldn't be caught…

That was the name given to him by the person who owned it before, and the day he died was the day he passed the name to someone else. That's how things were in this world, and if names were not passed on upon death they were not allowed to be used by anyone else…meaning that along with the person it had died as well. Things like that didn't happen too often, since having a name die wasn't just about it being useable; when a person would die along with name the 'player' would die as well. The person represented in the name would no longer be in the game, and it was a great annoyance to some when this happened. Fewer players made it more likely for someone to come after you, sometimes for the soul purpose of taking the name you worked so hard for. But he wasn't thinking about dying right now…the only thing on his mind was getting his job done. His eyes were perfect, like an eagle he could see long distances and because of this his position was perfect. He wasn't going to be screwed over by his poor judgment, so the shadows were where he stayed so he wouldn't be noticed as easily. The last thing he wanted was to get his head chomped off by that nag in his ear; oh no, he never did these things alone, not that he wasn't capable of doing so. He only brought another person into this for information, so he could know where the cops were at all times, at what time he needed to pull this off and if there was anyone else in the vicinity that he needed to worry about. These were things he could do on his own, but keeping constant tabs on those things was difficult for one person to manage.

Once he heard the 'click' in his ear along with someone's voice, he knew that it was time. The famed man he was looking at was currently trying to calm the crowed down, telling them 'yes my children, the time for change it now'. His smirk widened…what the loud of bull! The only thing the man wanted to change was the amount of money that went into his pocket, not caring how badly he messed up the economy. It was a shame people were so dense that they couldn't see the truth that was staring him right in the face, nor did they want to admit it. Humans were so…blind and misjudged the characters of others so quickly…that's why he was doing what he was doing. He was objective not only to the man's ideas, but rest of the world. He saw the whole right and wrong thing as something completely overrated, because in his world…there was only good business.

His finger twitch…all he needed was a second…a single sliver of time was enough for him get what he needed down. He knew his aim wasn't off in the slightest, but everything came down to timing. He wasn't going to miss unless the ass made a sudden movement, and judging by how into his speech he was getting into that wasn't happening anytime soon. Messing this up would mean not getting paid, and not getting paid wasn't an option. He'd be damned if he was going to miss another meal, or not pay his bills for another month. He wasn't going through that again and this one action was going to determine if he was. Looking through his scope, he could see the man's head in view, and he was going to take the opportunity he had to shoot a hole through it. But there was problem…

The man was already going down, and he had yet to pull the trigger…The crowd's cheers had turned into screams of horror, making them begin to panic and run. Security guard rushed to the aid of the man, but it was far too late for that…The bullet had hit the man in such a way that it penetrated the temple and exited out of cheek right below the eye, but the peculiar thing about it was that there was no splatter. Usually when someone was shot by another from a high angle, there would've been some sort of indication that some had indeed gone through his head…but there was nothing but two small holes were the bullet had come in and out. With such a clean shot it could've only meant that he had been shot from a much closer distance, maybe five or six floors below the building he was currently on.

"Fuck!" He shouted, knowing just who had taken his kill away from him. It was a not too common practice to take another's job, but it did happen and it was happening to him a little too often. It occurred four times in the last month, and about twenty times that year. The irritating fact that someone would try to out do him was always out there, but he never thought that someone would actually move in on his kills this quickly…That lazily bastard…there was only one person it could've been and it got him closer and closer to the edge of killing a civilian. Unless he was asked to, he was not allowed to involve anyone that was outside of his world when doing a job. He had rules to follow, and if he were to mess up he'd his fate would be worse than death. He heard stories about what happened to those that received such punishment, and no one ever came back normal…But he didn't have to worry about such things, because he had one of the best shots in the world and he never killed mindlessly. It just didn't sit well with him to kill someone that wasn't apart of what he told to do, and if you wanted to give a name to what he was going it would most likely be called 'The Ninja Way' – To only kill or harm those in which his job required him to do so. He knew it was old fashion to think in such a way, but he did have values that steamed far from the world he lived in. If only it hadn't changed so much over the last few years…he had lost friends along the way, many of which true names still remained a mystery to him. That was another thing about the whole 'representing a character' your true name was lost to those around you. In the real world you went by one thing, the name given to you by birth…however…when you around those who were like you, your name would be stripped away. This was to prevent others from being hunted down; families were killed and loved ones were ruthlessly torn apart if someone's name was ever found out by the enemy, and that was enough to send even the best of people over the edge. It was another sad fate that could befall anyone…but he had survived this long and didn't feel like messing up that bad just yet.

Quickly getting up, he flung the door to the roof of the building open, intending to find the person responsible for taking his rent money. Sprinting down the stairs, he found that since he was on the very top level of the building that it was probably best to jump, only stopping when he reached the right floor. He guessed he needed to free fall for about three to five seconds to reach the right one, but the problem was his grip. At the rate he would be falling there was a fifty percent chance he'd let good because of the sheer amount of weight that come with him (not to say he was that heavy), basically meaning that if the jump was wrong his hands would slip and his head would be creaked open on the beautifully shined marble floor below. It was a small detail that could be taken care of instantly; reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of gloves and slipped them on. They weren't anything special, just normal gardening gloves given to him by his informant…or so they seemed. On the very surface of the palm was a specially made material that would stick to damn near anything, excluding skin and the other glove. Leaping over the edge of the staircase, he let himself fall for a few seconds, grabbing the railing to the forty-fifth floor just as he was about to pass it. That horrible falling sensation was something he never got use to, nor was it something he enjoyed. The pit of his stomach also agreed with him, wanting nothing more then to reject everything he'd eaten that day. But he wouldn't allow it…he was going to find the bastard responsible for his losses.

Pulling himself up over the railing, he kicked the nearest door in not caring if he made the guy run. The building was condemned; it was going to be knocked down on that day, which made it the perfect place for snipping someone. It use to belong to a very wealthy tycoon, one who invested all of his money into an idea everyone thought would be a great success. But alas, he went bankrupt leading to the closing of all of the tycoon's businesses and basically sending his entire family into ruins…his family. Tightening his fist a little, he thought about what his mother and father had to go through because such a mistake was made. The woman his father loved grow cold, showing her true colors as the gold-digger she truly was; it had become a common sight to see the blonde wench scolding his father for losing so much money in one go. He hated her…but no matter how much he told his father, the man never lost fate in her. As a boy he never understood why he didn't kick the woman out on the street, and hell, even now he didn't understand. The woman was not his real mother so therefore he saw no reason to keep her around; his real mother was killed in a mugging while walking home one night, ever since then he never saw a single whore his father brought in as his mother. His old man was too trusting, always believing what people said and never looking past the persona that was presented to him. It was one of the many reasons why he drove himself to suicide. It was a shame someone like that had to be used so much, but even upon finding out that he was the man would never hold a grudge. Maybe he did all of this to teach his son something, like the value of 'turning the other cheek'…bull.

If he was going to 'turn the other cheek' he wouldn't be trying to kill the bastard that had been taking all of his jobs, and he wouldn't be loading up his handgun with a new clip. He was a peaceful person most of the time, but this had irritated him for far too long. The one he was going after barely had any information on them, only leaving behind a name and nothing more. It was a name that he'd heard of before; one that struck fear into even the most masculent or men…

The Mad Hatter…

They appeared out of nowhere, seemingly not attached to anything, be it his world or some sort of corporation, but strangely took orders from both. That's how the pyramid of power worked; at the very top were the corporations, they controlled the money and assigned the jobs that were given out to those who they found qualified enough to take them on. Below them were the S class players, those who acted like they didn't give damn about corporations, but were completely loyal to them without question. To become an S class player you must give up all of your freedom, basically becoming a dog on a very short leash. It was a life that he didn't prefer in the slightest, because that meant being stripped of literally everything. Name, identity, life, freedom…all of it was taken away and you were reduced to nothing but a mere number. Along with a little brainwashing, all of this was to prevent any rebellion against the people that they worked for. For those brave enough to pick such a life were branded with the digit they were assigned, letting the world know that you were no longer a person…but a piece of property. That kind of life just wasn't his cup of tea, which was why he was an Alice Player. This basically meant he was the lowest person on the pyramid, but that also meant he had the most freedom compared to an S class player. Alice Players would be given jobs to do, but it was actually up to them how they were carried out or if they carried out at all. Of course he was treated like dirt from the higher ups, but at lest he could carry on with his normal life. No…it wasn't normal…

But this guy…he didn't belong anywhere, and there was no telling what he was. Just because the guy owned the name 'The Mad Hatter' did not mean he was a part of his world. He knew how the old The Mad Hatter worked; he'd earned the name by being a ruthless killing, sometimes going overboard with jobs leading to serious injuries or death to others. The older player's weapons of choice were knives, and just about anything with a sharp edge on it. He had the fastest hands when it came down to knives, and his accuracy was unmatched in his class. That was another thing that had changed over time; originally there was only one class…'weapons used to kill', but as time when one it was slip into to two. Range weapons were, like the title stated, those that required a little distance from the user and the target, on the other hand close-combat weapons were used when the target was at lest in arm's lengths away. The old Mad Hatter was damn near the master of both types, and to do so was a feat not many could accomplish. Some people could only handle the strenuous training that went along with one of the types, but seeing someone that old achieve something like was damn near amazing. The life expectancy for player in his world was about 30, but the old Mad Hatter had added an extra five years to his (information given to him by his informant). But it wasn't surprising given how talented the man was…

But the new Hatter…it was obvious that the old one had died, because this guy was nothing like the other…or rather he seemed to be trying to be. The guy belonged to no one, and thus made him a ronin of sorts. That was dangerous…to have someone with potential that doesn't seem to know their place could only cause problems. The guy could've been considered a common killed since they were not given orders to shoot anyone, and that just pissed him off even more. He needed to do something…and he was.

Quickly running into the room, he looked around and found it seemingly empty. Cocking his run, he held it down and slowly began to walk around; people ran all the time, but the guy seemed like he had a little more pride then other, so he wasn't going to just turn his back as quickly as the others. The room was dark and rather large, the only thing lighting it up was the rays of sun that had managed to creep in through the partially boarded up windows. The room use to be a work space for an office, and it did make it a rather good place for snipping, practicing, or just loafing around. To prove his point even further there was an oddly placed couch sitting on the corner of the room. It ha probably been moved there by a few kids that wanted their own space, or it had been moved there because someone had some sort of sexual fantasy they wanted to play out.

As soon as he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye, he quickly spun around and pointed his gun straight out in front of him. He wasn't wearing his eye patch today so it made his sight even better; it wasn't like he needed to have one since there was nothing wrong with his eyes…somewhat. They were, however, completely heterochromatic meaning that one was a totally different color from the other. His mother was the same way, her left being green while the other was hazel. His were exactly the same as her, which was probably why his father never really liked to look him in the eye after she passed. The eye patch he owned was nothing more then fashion accessory; now it wasn't one of those old fashion ones that pirates worse, no, no, it was one of the more modern ones with the straps that went across the face. He wore it over his right eye, not really sure why he preferred it.

Looking around, he found that all was still once more. That didn't mean he'd let his guard down, and he'd learned the hard way that just because it was quiet didn't mean no one was there. Stepping back a little, he let his sense of hearing take over complete and tried to listen for any sign as to where the guy was. He had gone through too much torture because of this guy, and he wasn't going to let him go…but he did. It only took him a slit second to miss the sound of feet hitting the ground rather hard, heading near the end of the room. Jerking his head over to one of the windows, he saw a figure dressed in all black break through the boards and jump out of the building. Quickly racing over to it, a quick look over the side showed that there was no trace of the guy in sight. On a few piece of the broken glass were a few drips of blood, meaning that the guy hadn't really thought about his escape route that much…but he was still alive. Slamming his hand against the wall he cursing loudly; how could he have missed that?! He'd basically let the person he was pursing go, and he had no one to blame but himself. Groaning, he leaded against a wall and tried to think of a better to go about this. Luring him out was the main problem, and unless he was taping his computer for jobs, there was no way for him to find him.

He jumped a little when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, completely forgetting he hadn't turned it off. Looking at the name of that was currently flashing on the screen he cursed again; he was supposed to be somewhere else right now…a track meet. It was Saturday so he was expected to be there on time, though he wasn't one of the competitors. His cousin was on the local collage team, and though he was not the best, he still loved to run. If he didn't arrive before the last race, he was sure to be scolded; the way he actually planned out the day was to first snip the official then waltz right into the meet and watch whatever was left of the races. But that bastard had taken up more time than he wanted, so now he needed to explain why he was gone for such a long time. Why did it have to be like this?

"Late!" Yelled a young long haired girl holding a whistle, looking as if she wanted his head on a silver platter. He had so wanted avoid this conversation, but alas, he couldn't do such a thing. Before he came to the field he needed to put everything with him away, because come on, a very powerful man was just killed and he would've looked rather suspicious if he came in the way he was. He knew doing this was going to conflict with the time he wanted to be there even more, and he regretted it as soon as he set foot near the stands. The girl was two years younger then he was, but still managed to rule over him like he was some sort of dog somehow. She was the couch of the team, and according to his cousin, was entrusted with it when her brother left to become some sort of mad scientist or whatever. She was relatively nice, but her training routines were brutal by anyone's standards. She admitted that he actually obtained all of her ideas from her brother, and that made him seriously question what was up with this family. From training in the snow to holding practice in the middle of the night, it all apparently did the team good because they were top ranked in the nation.

Raking his fingers through his vermillion hair, he tried to get a few words in over her ramble about how 'being there for people was important' and that 'he should be ashamed at himself' but he just couldn't. That's was her specialty…sending people on a guilt trip that would make you want to crawl into a deep cave and die. But luckily he was somewhat immune to her attacks now, only feeling slightly terrible about himself. He had enough on his mind right now, and blocking out most of what she was saying just seemed right. Looking over at the track he could see that another race was just about to start up; his cousin had been a part of the track team since his junior year in high school. A lot happened that year, and that was probably why he had joined the team in the first place. For starters his father died…or rather his adopted father had. His cousin wasn't a part of his family by blood, and it did indeed explain why he acted so different compared to his other relatives. He was taken in by uncle ten years ago, and there actually wasn't a better person for the job. His uncle was a lot like his father, and seeing that they were brother's he could see why. The two of them had a rather good relationship, never forgetting to keep in contact with each other or that family meant everything. Of course his whore of a step-mother didn't like the fact that his father would converse with other relatives, but she really had no say in what he did.

He still remembered meeting his cousin for the first time; his father had invited them over in the middle of summer because 'why not spend a hot day with relatives?' It had gotten much warmer than it usually did, which gave them the perfect excuse to use their pavilion. It wasn't all that big, but it was enough to hold at lest seven people. There was a small table placed in the center of it, as well as three ivory couched around it. While the three adults sat and chatted, his step-mother being a fake as she could be, he and his cousin sat on the back steps of the house. They really didn't speak to each other for about twenty minutes, because the tension between the two was gradually increasing and they didn't know what to do about it. Since talking didn't seem to be an option, they just watched the scenery for a little. The backyard was filled with sounds of the nearby forest; he wasn't allowed to go into it, but he could still hear all the strange sound like the cicadas high-pitch screams. He did find that sound so odd, but he also liked hearing it because it meant summer was here. His mother loved summer…she would take them to the beach, always smiling as she splashed in the water with him. He loved that smile…it was like a little beacon of hope that told him everything was going to be okay. But all of that changed after she died…his father refused to go to such places because he knew it meant remembering someone he was deeply in love with. The house had gotten much dark once she was gone, and wasn't really anything that could be done to lighten it up.

Once something was said between the two, it was nothing more than a question…He couldn't very well call it a stupid question because he was told that there was no such thing, but it seemed a little random. Lifting his head a little, with eyes still glued to the ground, his cousin asked if his 'mother was gone too'. He simply nodded, not seeing why he should hide something like that. At this point he was completely numb, he didn't care about much at this point in his life and knew that kind of thinking would lead him places he didn't want to go. He heard his cousin say he didn't have a mother either, and he felt he didn't know what to say. Of course he didn't have a mother; he was nothing but an orphan…someone thrown away for a reason that was unknown. Upon telling him this he received a blank stair followed by nothing but tears. He back up a little, completely nowhere of what he had done. He had only spoke the truth, so why was he crying?! Becoming irritated with the whole situation he began to yell at him, telling him to stop crying because at lest his mother was still alive. At lest she was somewhere in the world, but his mother was six-feet-under. At lest his mother was enjoying her life somewhere, laughing, crying and just being happy in general…his mother couldn't do that. He was so incredibly pissed off…how could he cry like that?! Tears shouldn't be wasted on matter like that; tear should be shed for those who weren't coming back, those whose smile would never bee seen again…like his mother. After a few minutes his cousin's voice stop, but could still hear crying. Where was it coming from? Rubbing his own face he found he was the source…he was crying. This wasn't right…he wasn't supposed to be feeling anything…he was supposed to be numb! He wasn't supposed to be showing any signs that he acknowledged the pain he felt in his heart, because it'd taken him such a long time to bottle everything up. He cried harder as everything started to come out at once, just wanted it all to stop.

Looking up from the ground he found his cousin patting him on the head, tears completely gone. He couldn't look into his eyes…god he felt so horrible about himself…Upon hearing a small voice say 'it's okay' he couldn't help but cry harder. Why was he taking pity on him? He shouldn't have been looking at him with sympathy in his eyes…he was supposed to hate him. He didn't want to get close with anyone else, in fear that they might lose them in some horrible way. It was a horrible way of thinking, pushing people away for their own safety, but that was the only thing his traumatized mind could think of. He immediately latched onto his cousin, burying his face in his chest and just crying. He didn't want to show this side to anyone, but it just came out and there was nothing he could do about it; for him doing something like this made him believe that it put shame to his mother's name, that it…disgraced what his mother stood for.

To make a long story short, the two of them just talked after that, mostly about what they had lost. That was such an odd day…he might've been thirteen at the time, but the whole day was still stored vividly away in his mind. It was a really profound moment after his mother died, because it made him remember that she wasn't the kind of person that wanted him to act like that. All she ever wanted was for her family to be happy, and pretending not to feel anything was not granting her wish. She wanted them to smile, to be happy…not mourn her death and act like a shell.

"Wait…where's Allen? Isn't he supposed to be running?" He said, looking around the track and seeming his cousin no where.

"Idiot, that's why I called you! He said he wasn't feeling well so he went to infirmary…I had to call you because he was locked in the bathroom the last time I checked on him…" She said, crossing her arms obviously not pleased with the situation. Looking a little stunned at her, he shook his head a little; was he really not feeling well? It was rare that Allen would lie about not wanting to run, so it seemed like a legitimate reason.

"You have to make him come out…" She said, tone saying that she wasn't asking.

"I know, I know…" He said while walking off.

"Hay, Rabi!" She called, "That guy came back again…"

Ht slowed down did not stop…why the hell had he come back? Rabi knew he'd royally screwed up by not killed the damn politician, but did he really need to come and rub it in his face? Every time he 'completed' a job he'd be visited by his boss's S class player, because they wanted to make sure he didn't screw up after the fact. It was rather easy for an Alice Player to mess up after a big job, be it by getting seen, accidentally letting the fact that they did the job slip to someone on the outside, or forgetting to 'clean up' after themselves. If it happened, it happened, and the S class players would have to take damage control. No one was supposed to know about a secret world filled with killers, it would make the entire country…hell, the world going into panic mode. The last thing he wanted was to be hunted down and being labeled a murderer…he wasn't a murderer.

Once inside the building, he walked to the infirmary, finding it a little difficult because he wasn't use to coming into the school on the right side. Allen's collage campus was huge; to put it simply, it was a small town dedicated to studies, sports, and just general space. When he first head that his cousin was applying there he thought he'd gone mad…he'd heard about how much he hated wondering around his high school, so why did he want to attend a school that's classes were half a mile away? Now Allen wasn't just a track runner, he was an artist as well and a pretty damn good one. But being the humble bastard that he was, thought nothing of and said he was mediocre. He really didn't like people telling him he was good at something; Allen said it was because it meant he had to be up to someone's standards and expectations, though that didn't sound like a big deal he didn't want to be like that. He wanted to create something only because he wanted to and not because someone was basically making him a slave, forcing him to 'become better'. He was so strange…but Rabi had to admit that he was something special.

Upon reaching the right door, he slowly opened the door so as to not scare anyone that was inside. But that wasn't a problem…there wasn't anyone in the room, giving it a strangely eerier quality to it. He walked over to the bathroom, knocking on the door a little once over. Rabi had only been in the infirmary once before, having picked up his cousin up because he had twisted his ankle. It was a rainy day and he was on a very irritating job that dealt with a runner; the redhead had to chases after a drug dealer that wasn't too cooperative. He'd backed the guy into a corner and had already shot him three times in the legs, right arm, and shoulder. After chasing the guy for about twenty minutes he just wanted it to be over. He hated it when something so simple took so long to do, because it meant he could've been doing something much better with his time. Just as he was about to pull the trigger his cell when off, making him groan a little; he knew the guy wasn't going to run anymore, so why not answer it? Pulling it out he checked the name and was somewhat surprised to see it was his cousin's school. What had he gotten himself into now? Flipping it open, he began to converse with the nurse, being told exactly what was doing on. Apparently while training in the gym had been tripped and taken quite the fall, so he had to be taken home. Allen didn't live in a dorm on campus, one reason being that he didn't have enough money to pay for one. If getting in wasn't much of a problem enough, he didn't want to reach into his bank account again and pull out a ridiculous sum of money, that's not to say he couldn't do he just didn't want to. His family was rich, he knew this, but he didn't want to ask for something he could've earned on his own…that's just the kind of person he was.

As soon as he closed the phone, he shot the man in the head and started to walk off. He needed to go home because he looked a damn mess, and walking into the nurse's office with blood stains on him wasn't an option. The last thing he wanted was to scare his cousin into thinking he was an axe murderer or something. He couldn't tell Allen about what he did for a living…if he did Allen would've been monitored and constantly followed. Wanting to make sure his cousin didn't speak about said confession to anyone, and his he did…he would be killed on sight. In order to keep the world they live in from being discovered ALL those who were not a part of it needed to be silenced, be it through 'disappearing' or actually killing them. He didn't want him going through that, nor did he want to lose one of the few relatives that made him happy.

Once home, Rabi quickly went up to his apartment and into his room. He didn't care what he wore, just as long as it didn't make him look like he'd just killed someone. It didn't take him long to pick something out, discarding the clothes he would hand wash in his clothing bin. He did own a car, he didn't decided not to use it most of the time since walking just seemed better. But this would be one of those few exceptions since it was raining, and lugging Allen all the way back to his house just didn't seem like a good idea. Rabi had moved to the same town as Allen after his father died, since he his cousin didn't have any other family that live near him. He was more then thrilled to have the redhead at lest be in the same general area he was, since the drive to his place was about three hours. It was quite the trip, but Allen didn't mind braving it for some reason…and the redhead found out why a year later.

After driving on the road with crazy people, he finally reached Allen's school. Getting out of the car, he pulled out his umbrella and popped it open. The rain had gotten harder and he felt like his mood was slowly sinking because of it; it wasn't supposed to rain today, and his day just seemed to get worse by each passing second. He wasn't mad that his cousin for twisting his ankle, but this wasn't the first time he'd done it. Allen had injured himself before on the track, but he did not need to be taken home. It was the fact that the nurse had told him that his cousin 'had been tripped' opposed to 'he had tripped' told him that he was there to do more than just pick him up. Now Allen didn't usually have problems with the other students, but every now and then he'd call and ask if the redhead could come over because he felt bad about school. How someone could come to hate Allen was beyond him, and he truly wanted to beat the face of whoever it was in for messing with his cousin. Putting down his shield against the elements, he walked to the office so he could figure out just where the nurse's room was. But luckily for him on his way there he managed to find it, which was actually located three doors down from where he had entered. It made the trip he thought he was going to take much easier. Just as he opened the door he was nearly knocked down by none other then Allen; he told him that the nurse had gotten the wonderful idea to inject him full of painkillers, at which point he begin to run (or hobble) over to the door to try and escape. Sighing a little, he told her that an injection wasn't necessary. He knew how much his cousin hated needles, even when they played 'surgeon' he'd always opted to not be injected with anything (it was just a mechanical pencil and didn't even break the skin).

Kneeling down he told Allen to get on his back so he could carry him out. The nurse said that she could provide them with a wheelchair so he wouldn't have to strain himself, but he just declined. He would've much rather done everything in one go than make two trips, since returning the wheelchair just made things difficult. Allen also agreed and climbed onto Rabi's back. He wasn't all that heavy, thought the redhead sometimes worried that he wasn't eating enough. He just couldn't help but act like a nosy parent sometimes, always checking in when he felt like something was amiss. Standing up he began to leaving, telling his cousin that he'd have to hold the umbrella. Luckily the rain had somewhat slowed down but he still had to sprint; the only parking space he could find was no where near the school, and wanting his cousin to not be out in the cold for too long he tried to best to get as quickly as possible. He could run just as fast Allen, but he didn't seem to think you needed to compete in such a thing. That wasn't to say he didn't like what he was doing being on a team and all, he just thought that one should only run if they are being chased or for that matter chasing someone else…and he did that quite often. After finally reaching the car Rabi got in, but not before placing Allen gently in the back seat. Before starting the car he looking into the rear view mirror and asked if there was anything he should know. After a long silence all he got was nothing more then a head shake. He would leave it at that since he knew his cousin would come around sooner or later.

"Hay, Allen, it's me" He said, knocking on the door once more. He heard something drop followed by a small 'o-okay' telling him that Allen had probably fallen asleep, or was doing something else he didn't want to think about. As soon as he opened the door the redhead was nearly tackled when his small cousin latch onto his waist. He did such things from time to time, mostly when he felt lonely.

"What were you doing in there?" Rabi asked.

"It's cooler in there…" He said, holding the redhead a little tighter.

"Well you do feel a little warm." He said, left hand gently placed against his forehead. He felt Allen relax against his hand as his grip slightly increased…as well as the blush on his face. Quickly pulling his hand away the redhead straightened himself out, clearing his throat as he did so. He didn't know what to say anymore, given that Allen had just shown his affection for him in another awkward way. Yes, his cousin had a crush on him, and the truth didn't come out until early that year. Needless to say the redhead knocked quite off kilter when he heard such news, considering where they were and what they were doing. It was New Year Eve and the two of them were sitting near the redhead's couch watching TV; in about five seconds the current year was about to be forgotten, all mistakes erased and everyone starting off with a clean slate. They were both snuggled up under a blanket taken from Rabi's bed, and their anticipation was growing as the seconds ticked away. The redhead noticed that his cousin was inching his away closer to him, but he really didn't think much of it since it was rather cold outside. It was the last day in December and soon to be the first day in January, so it was still pretty cold out. But…there was still something odd about it…and it wasn't until the clock struck zero that he found out. He felt something wet against his cheek, but he wasn't really sure what it was. The feeling was warm and didn't hurt in the slightest, so that probably meant he had nothing to worry about…but he still needed to know what it was. Upon turning he was met with Allen's lips against his own.

Shocked was an understatement at that point, and his body, being the backstabbed that it was, refused to move. He was pushed down just a little, and had his waist straddled in such a way that he could…feel his cousin against him. At first he thought it was nothing then a dream, seeing that he did indeed have one too many glasses of wine that night. He had been known to not hold anything alcoholic very well, and he also knew that Allen was also known for the same thing. So maybe this was a byproduct of that…but he was proven wrong when he felt a hand start to travel up his shirt. It was then his body decided to go 'oh wait…' and stop his cousin from continuing further. Pushing him away somewhat, he asked for an explanation to his cousin's actions. What he got was Allen burying his face in his chest and saying he 'liked him' though he couldn't understand too much since he was muffled. At this point Rabi knew that his cousin was not related to him by blood, but he was still his cousin. He was a part of his family and falling in love with him would feel…a little strange. As he continued to listen to Allen's muffled explanation he learned that this was something he'd been feeling for quite some time. That made him feel horrible…how could he reject the feelings of someone who had loved him for so long? Not that he had any intentions of rejecting or accepting him. He wasn't sure if he was stalling or if he genuinely didn't know what to do in the situation but he did know one thing…he really needed Allen off of him because it wasn't making his thought process any better. Upon telling him this, his cousin blush and slowly back away clearly seeing that he had overstepped his boundaries. Sighing a little, he told Allen that he really needed to think things through before he jumped into a relationship…

And he had kept Allen waiting for seven months…

He felt like such a jerk for postponing his answer to so long, but he just wasn't sure of himself. Letting someone into his life would mean he'd feel even guiltier about the fact that he was lying to them, or for that matter that he would be perceived as a common killer if they ever found out. The redhead didn't want Allen to lose so much faith in him because he came home covered in blood, had been gone for several days without notifying him, or had forgotten to put all of his weaponry away. Rabi kept all of his guns, knives, and swords in two places; the island in the middle of the floor was used for more than just chopping food. When a small button underneath was pressed the top would pop up, revealing array of fire arms that would make any spy tear up with envy. In his room behind the wall across from his bed, if the painting moved in such a way a small 'click' sound could be heard in the room. This meant that the small door behind his dresser was unlocked. In there one would find three different swords, one of which given to him as a gift. Surprisingly, his father was the one that had brought it for him; it was twelfth and his father actually told him that he could by anything he wanted, though he knew that was somewhat of a lie. As the passed store after store he found that nothing perked his interest…except one thing. While passing an antique shop he tugged on his father's sleeve, signaling for him to stop. Something had caught his eye and he wasn't sure if it was because of its placement, or if it was because of the object in general. It was an old Japanese blade that, according to the sign, a very famous samurai used. He didn't care if it was or was not used by someone who sliced through countless armies, or if it was used as nothing more than a cooking utensil he just needed to have.

The sheath and sword were separated so everything could be seen. The sheath was completely black, the only thing that shown color was the small golden fu lion that was carved near the opening. As for the sword itself looked, it too looked entirely black, from hilt to the tip of the blade and that was very unusual in Rabi's young eyes. He thought a blade such as that was rather rare, thus making it a very special item. Upon telling his father about how much he wanted said sword he was given the 'I'm not too sure…' look, which told him that a little reasoning was in order. The redhead told his father that have something like that didn't mean he was going to use, or if it did, that all he have to do is enroll him classes that taught him how to handle it properly. He had such a way with words…his uncle would always used the old saying 'he could sell ice to Eskimos' to explain that the redhead could get out of damn near anything. Rabi wasn't sure where he got said talent from, but he did know it came in handy whenever he wanted something (and surprisingly he didn't ask for too much). His father gave him one more disapproving looked before walking into the antique shop. He mentally patted himself on the back for convincing his father to buy him a potentially deadly weapon, but no, after a few minutes his father came out smiling a little, sword in hand. Rabi knew why the man was happy…something like this was going to become more than just a present. Oh no…something of this magnitude was going to serve son well in the future…

But Rabi did not use the sword…because it meant so much to him…

"Well come on, I might as well take you home since the last race is probably over" He said, patting his cousin on the head. With a quick nod, Allen told him that he needed to do something before he left and that he would meet him outside. With a little ruffle of his hair, he watched as the redhead head left and upon him closing the door he quickly gripped his side. He hadn't expecting anything to go the way it did and now he was paying the price. He slowly walked back into the bathroom and pulled out a duffle bag with his initials on the side of it. Pulling it out he unzipped it revealing a number of things that weren't all sports related; among them were black long sleeved shirt with a rip in the side of it, a pair of black leather gloves with a few holes in them, and a black trench coat that also had a number of holes in it. Allen thought the idea of himself wearing all black on such a day was ludicrous, but he needed to and that's what mattered. Reaching in he pulled out a cloth which the blood on it had yet to dry, and began to lift up his side. He pressed it against the wound on his torso and winched a little, wishing that he had been a little more careful with his actions. Opening one of the cabinets, he pulled out a little surgical tape and placed it over the cloth to keep it in place. Closing it, he zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to sleep everything off. The news would be all over this, and soon the truth about the man would be revealed. He didn't care if he had disrupted the order or either worlds…he been through enough to despise both. Bitter was not the right word for how he felt, because what he felt was much stronger than that…He was only putting up a false front so he wouldn't be found out, and as much as it pained him, he found that there's was no other way to live…even if it meant lying to Rabi about who he was. After all…

The Mad Hatter had to make sure people didn't know about him…because things could've gotten…a little out of hand…

'I'll kill the bastard the next time…I'll make sure of it…' He said, a smirk slowly forming on his face.