So tired... so thirsty... and I got sick (AGAIN!) The moment I stepped out of school for spring break, I got another cold. Today was the first day back. And I'm already staying up too late for a school night... blarg... soo sleepy...

Long awaited next chapter of Found (I'm sorry, I got writers block for Krory AND Lenalee this time... aargh...)

Trying to enter the Oberon's Garden OCT... will probably fail... Birthday's coming up, along with LoT's final round... DGM is finally back, and DP is Pepper-Hot (I hate my puns), and the Wld Geo project I forgot about/didnt know I had has a rough draft due on Friday. It was below 0 this past week. Everything happens in march...

This chapter's where the plot starts to actually kick in a little... we're currently at the end of October, probably around Oct 27/28th and Allen's still kicking himself. He'll be kicking himself for a while.

Next update is DC (hopefully) and Black Cat (manga/anime) and TWEWY (video game) are new distractions until then, go check them out while you're waiting for me!

Disclaimer: I don't even know what to say now, shut up!!

Krory flipped through a book he had pulled out of the library at random. The Order's library was indeed huge, but it had few of the books he would typically enjoy reading. It was filled with technical manuals, books on mythology and the most obscene legends. Bits and pieces were about the majority of countries and language, customs and some of the most annoying books on some of the most disgusting food and table etiquette. On the occasion, he would find a book on his beloved plants, but they were few and far between.

And the religion books. Oh, Lord, the religion books. Ever since Allen—ahem, the traitor—had fled the Order with three 'veteran' exorcists and a 'highly informed' scientist, books on everything in the catholic religion had been flooded into the library, swarming every shelf while all the books on contradicting beliefs, excluding those in PR, had been hastily removed from the library. It was pathetic how the Order had tried so hard to cover their tracks in such a mess they had made.

Biting his lip with a fanged tooth, he truly did hope that those brats had gotten away safely, with everyone in one piece. Allen would be able to pull through whatever they had thrown at him in Central, he was sure. Allen was the strongest willed of all of them, had always been, would certainly always be. He had no doubt that at this moment, Allen was making his recovery; maybe slowly, but surely he would be better than he ever had been before. He was the leader of the brats, after all.

They were brats, after all.

While in his darker, Akuma hunting craze, Krory would think of those boys and Lenalee as nothing more than brats, and somewhere along the line, the word had worked his way into his usual speech and thoughts. As for Johnny... 'highly informed' scientist, as he was, was so jittery and panicked in some situations that it was frankly funny. Johnny was a good brat, though. Everyone knew that much.

He sighed, turning a page in he dusty old book he had been attempting, and honestly failing, to read the past hour. The ink was faded and the print was small, the pages old and wrinkled, some torn and falling out. The subject was most uninteresting, and quite frankly, reading about what the old schoolers learned when cutting people open was, in a word, disgusting.

He opened his mouth and gaped in horror at what had once been an intricate and informative ink drawing before closing the book, dropping it on the table and walking away from the vile thing as quickly as he could.

The bracelet clutched around his skin as he tried to make a fist to distract himself. Krory moped a moment. The wrist trackers were so annoying. They relayed your every position and word to who knew where. Central, most likely, but with all the new science departments shifting around it was a pain to not know who exactly you could trust and who you could trust would be leaving.

He sighed, staring at the thin blue handcuff that might one day be their undoing. One day be the day that he or one of his friends slipped up and said something about the brats. Something Central didn't want to be said. Something that might— oh the horror— support them and their running away, support Allen not getting burned and mauled by the people he had lived for, or heaven forbid, they might defend the brats with talk of some of the many great battles they had won for this Order! The Ark! The Level Four! And those after Allen's kidnapping, the Bridge, the Queen's Castle? They, Krory included, had been sent on an almost-suicide mission to defend Queen Victoria of England for a month and the Noahs had arrived by the end of it all! Oh, the hell of covering that one up!

And why only the exorcists? Why was it only them who were thought to be likely to run from the Order and track down the brats? If it was as simple as that, Krory had no doubt the Order would have already found them and skinned them alive. He clutched his fist even tighter, his veins sticking out in his pale, clawed hands.

About that time, Miranda shakily walked through the large doors of the library, which in five hours would be closed and locked for the night, around the time of eleven. A young redhead with his hair pulled into two long and low tails, a black band across his forehead trailing behind her calmly, his arms behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling boredly. Unlike Krory, Timothy had only needed a week to get over the Order's size, and he was from a dirt pour orphanage. Krory had spent a month or two getting over the general vastness of the place, and he had lived in a castle his entire life.

Krory averted his eyes from Timothy. The black headband concealing his weapon and the shocking red hair made him look far too much like a certain older brat that Krory held dear to his heart.

He treasured Allen for helping him recover from his depression, but it was Lavi who had been with him and first convinced him of the truth. It was unfair to value Lavi over Allen as Allen had been recovering in Asia branch, but he had spent more time with Lavi.

It was still unfair. Krory felt guilty about loving one of his saviors over the other, when really he should have felt more kin to Allen than anyone else. Allen who was a parasitic, Allen who was oppressed, Allen who had a darker side, Allen who got twice as many strange looks as Krory did... It was just slightly sad that he valued the other, unlike, redheaded exorcist.

Krory sighed. What was he thinking? He missed all of them.

But then...

What were they supposed to do? It would be heresy of comrades' bond to try and bring them back. Not to this place... Home...

Not one of them would ever do that to the five who had been all of their shining lights.

The five who would dim, but never go out.

000

The day couldn't decide if it wanted to be warm or cold. If Allen sat in the direct line of sunlight, it was warm enough to just barely be comfortable, but when the slightest breeze came along, it all turned cold. Allen wasn't sure why he had even wanted to come out today when the temperature changed every few seconds, he only really knew he didn't want to be in the house, where the air was so stale and painful in his throat.

He had given up talking for a while until he could feel better, and still, it felt like someone was dragging a cleaver over the inside of his throat. But...

But...

But a part of him was so glad to have this excuse from having to engage in conversation. So glad to have a way to back out gracefully whenever someone asked him a question. He was trying, honestly he was! It was just... difficult...

Survive.

He shuddered as another wind cascaded through the backdrop of the forest, screeching through the leave-less trees, the fallen colors on the forest floor, in the dirt, being kicked up and rattled like beans in a bowl. He couldn't tell you exactly if he had shuddered from the wind or not, only that he had shivered. He drew the coat around him a little tighter.

The burns were healing well, now only several raised, paler-than-white lumps and ridges on parts of his skin to name he had burnt. Most of them were on his legs, as well, which wouldn't scar as easily. Soon the lumps on his legs— it might take a year, or two, maybe even five, but they— would heal over and be almost unnoticeable even to him, who would know exactly where they were.

He swallowed something in his throat, probably the same thing he had swallowed while in that room with Levirrier, and it burned as it went down. He made a small groan, searing it, and held his throat gently. Another slightest breeze blew by ever so gently, chilling him beyond his skin. Like little ants, marching up his arms and digging until their cold little feet were under his skin. His innards were squirming, not like butterflies or snakes, but eels, slimy, wet and gross, curling and slithering inside, out and around in his intestines.

Maybe he had wanted to get out of the house because he felt he might throw up again? His hands were lowered to his side, and he tried to remove any contact he had with his own body, relieving pressure as much as he could.

He was tired, again. Sleep had been getting harder and harder to really... what was the word for that? His eyes burned when he moved them to bright patches and he was blinking a lot more than he usually did. His muscles ached and mouth was dry, and in all honesty, he could probably have fallen asleep against the house where he leaned against the wooden structure. It was a lot more comfortable there than you would have imagined, impossibly more comfortable, even with the temperatures changing again to chill him and make him wrap the cloak even more firmly around his arms. His eyes were drooping and begging to be closed to stop the burning behind them that was beginning to exist even without light.

He knew that he would fall asleep if he closed his eyes for even a moment, even if it was outside, but it had to be better than sleeping in the bed again, right? It had to be better than... being... inside...

better...

than....

being...

with...

creak— SLAM

The sound of the rusted door hinges being abused made him jump and his eyes snap back open from the edge of sweet sleep.

"A-Allen?" Lenalee stuttered, surprised at finding Allen hiding outside. They apparently hadn't been looking for him, or not even noticed he had been gone was more likely. "What are you doing out here?" Her English faltered into formal 'first learned' for a moment. Allen only caught it because he had been stuck in that same 'formal' tongue whenever he talked rationally lately.

"'Uh-ehn," He replied quickly. Nothing. It was with a small pained needle sticked into his heart that he confirmed they hadn't even noticed his absence. Why should they? I didn't do anything to make them search. They have other things to deal with. "'Orry," He tried, his throat searing lightly at the 'R's in the word.

Lenalee paused a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling something small out of it, wrapped up in a thin cloth. It was dark brown and broken up into chunks when she held some out to him. "Suck on one," she said. "Lavi said it would help your throat," Allen did not cringe as his only excuse to remain silent was unknowingly ripped away from him. He lifted one shying right hand up to meet hers and picked the little chunk up and carelessly pushed it between his teeth and into his mouth, which didn't seem to want to open fully.

Chocolate his mind seemed to register.

His throat seemed to ease slightly, his mind clearing and his muscles relaxing a bit. I forgot what chocolate tasted like... "...thanks..." He said, his throat more bearable with the bitter thing in his mouth. He hadn't eaten chocolate very often, just a few seeds every now and then when he was with... Cross... and once, long ago, with Ma—

I feel sick...

Allen looked away from Lenalee slowly, staring down at the wood beneath him, hoping she would just go away.

She didn't.

"...Allen?" She called, softly, "Is something wrong?" Lenalee knealed over until they were at relatively the same level, Allen's head still turned away from her as she reached out a hand to lightly touch his right shoulder. He winced. "Allen?"

"..I'm fine," He sighed, turning the chocolate over in his mouth and sucking on another side of it to continue soothing his throat. Lenalee sat down beside him, her whole hand now easing onto his shoulder as she tried to come closer to him.

"You're lying," She whispered. "I've been where you were, Allen, I know you're not fine."

"...how long... were you there?" He asked, the chocolate growing smaller in his mouth.

"Three years before Komui came," She whispered to him.

Sudden overwhelming guilt fell onto him. Three years, he thought, three years and I'm griping about six measly months. It was hell, but...

But...

Lenalee.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I just..."

"Allen..." A gentle hand was placed over his mouth. Allen stopped breathing. Lenalee pulled her hand back the instant she realized her mistake. "Listen, Allen...." She began, holding her offending hand to against her chest and not attempting to come any closer to him. "It took me months and months to act normally after being in Central, and... and I'm still not... you know... I'm not quite... right..." She tripped over her words uneasily, trying to find things that wouldn't hurt her but wouldn't hurt Allen, either. "But... but Allen..." Lenalee was really trying, honestly and truly, to not say the only thing she could think of. She couldn't comfort anyone without physical contact, and contact was what Allen needed right then, but he wouldn't let it be given.

Lenalee eventually lost her fight with herself. "Allen... it doesn't matter how long we were there, Central knew I was an exorcist and... they knew you were a—"

"Don't say it," Allen was stiff, rigid, the unearthly snarl that came out of his mouth right before Lenalee was about to finish her sentence had come straight out of something worse than Hell. "Don't say it," His visible eye was screwed shut, and inside his coat, his hands were balled into fists.

A gust of cold air chilled them momentarily, and Lenalee couldn't speak.

"I... I know that it was... different, but... but.. I—" Allen began to choke on his words, the chocolate in his mouth disappearing completely now and his throat was getting sore again. "I cant... you..." His eyes began to heat again. Lenalee was so little.... Lenalee was a child when they... Not like me.... Lenalee was so little... His heart began to burn, twisting in his chest. "You... we..." A hot something coursed down his cheek quickly. "God... Lena..."

"...have some more chocolate, Allen," Lenalee whispered, not daring to say more as she extended her hand with another small chunk of chocolate in it. Allen took it from her, but didn't put it in his mouth. He fidgeted with it in his hand, rolling it between his fingers and passing it from hand to hand. "Allen, please, your throat..." Allen shook his head slowly. I don't care. He turned to look at her with one, pale, puffy eye. I just cant care, Lenalee.

"What's wrong?" Lenalee asked quietly. "Allen, what's wrong? You need to tell us..." He shook his head.

Lenalee frowned at this. "We cant help you if we don't know what's wrong, Allen," She reminded him, a small flame lit within her. "Tell us what to do, what we're doing wrong... okay?" He didn't even shake his head this time, he just stared at her, silently, with so much sadness locked in his eyes that Lenalee could feel his pain through them, it seemed. Like looking into his soul.

"Allen, we need you to trust us," The moment Lenalee said 'trust', Allen knew the path down which she was taking this, and slowly, the pain in his heart grew a bit more intense.

"We have to know what's going on with you... if we don't, we cant help you at all," He didn't move, just looked ahead, trying to blot out the sounds with the images. A futile attempt, and his heart clenched.

"Ju... just because you think you're in this alone— and please, Allen, I know how it is, I do— just because you think you're alone doesn't mean you are..." With a savage twist in his chest, he knew what the next thing she would say would be. He wished she wouldn't say that. He wished she wouldn't remind him.

"Allen... we're you're comrades, aren't we? We're friends, right?"

He wished she wouldn't ever learn how horribly those words always managed to hurt him.

Slowly, he put the piece of chocolate into his mouth and chewed on it lightly, not bothering to suck. His fingers had smears of brown on them from bits that had melted in his fingers.

Lenalee grew concerned, frightened at his silence. A silence in which he did not answer.

"Allen, we are friends... right?"

Allen nodded slightly, slowly, not bothering to turn his head to look her in the eye. His eyes were both covered by both the mask and the thin curtains of white bangs, longer than Lenalee had seen them grow on Allen's own consent. The only thing visible when he did finally reply was his mouth moving.

"Yeah... we're friends, Lenalee, we are..." That's why it's so hard to keep going.

A thought had been egging Allen for a while by then, a thought that had been with him for ever since they had come to Moa's and he had regained consciousness. They couldn't just loiter around anylonger.

They were going to ruin this safe place if they did. They were going to lead this little German town to an ugly ruin.

"Lenalee... we need to talk about somethin'..." He mumbled so softly that Lenalee nearly missed the words. She sat and simply stared at him for a moment.

"...About what?" She asked. "Allen, are you going to—"

"No," He said. "No, I... Lenalee..." I need to stop. I need to stop right now.

But I cant.

"Lenalee, can you...." He stood up slowly, leading his body upward with his hands on the wall behind him as Lenalee continued to watch him carefully, whether out of concern he would fall or because she didn't want to miss a word in fear he wouldn't repeat it, Allen had no idea. "Can you do me a favor?"

Lenalee jumped, as if snapped out of a trance at him. "A favor? Y-yeah, yeah! Of course I can, Al—"

"T-tell Lavi and Kanda and Johnny that... we... we're leaving at the end of the week. T-tell Moa for me too, okay?" A harassing cough suddenly worked up his throat as once again, a gust of wind chilled the world. Allen almost didn't manage to keep the chocolate in his mouth.

"Leaving?" Lenalee repeated. "But Allen, you're not better yet, we need to—"

"—I'm fine, Lenalee," It was the closest to a threatening voice she had ever heard Allen use towards people he considered friends, and Lenalee was frightened of it. "We don't have the time to stick around endangering this town any longer... I fine. We can go," With barely turning his head, he cast her a hard look through his right eye. "I'm better," I'm lying.

"Allen...."

"I'm fine."

He turned at the quickest pace he could and reentered the house with it's hot, stuffy, stale air instantly burning his throat again. His limbs were aching weights on his shoulders and thighs as he made his way to the room Moa had given him. He hiked there as quickly as his still battered body would let him.

He was so tired...

The lock sliding into place was comforting to him, as well as the clinking noises that the chain made as he attached it to the frame. Locks were good. Locks kept intruders out, thieves...

He collapsed on the bed again, rolling onto his back to breathe and letting his limbs sprawl out over the warm, soft fabric...

Timcanpy flew over from some hiding place in the room, carrying a half-full cup of water. Allen sat up and downed it all in one go, the remainder of a small chunk of chocolate going down with it.

Then, he fell back onto the bed, his mind ceasing function very quickly as Timcanpy snuggled up into his master's side, maybe sensing that Allen was under that stress yet again.

Allen fell asleep quickly and silently, too tired to even manage to cry about what he had done this time. He had three days to figure out how to survive in the outside world, and not enough time in a millennium to figure out how to apologize...

To everyone...