EPILOGUE

(As in, contains spoilers. Do not read if you're not interested in what happened to Kanda's memories.)

-x-

Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

NOTE: This is a CIM (Curse is Magical) chapter. CIM supposes a curse can restore beyond what is capable by the human body. Please note that CIM and CIP chapters shared some content. They simply moved in different directions. Apparently the CIM direction was the correct one. Who knew. Thanks, Katsura Hoshino-sama!

-x-

"Well." It was rather dry, like a wine that hadn't quite come of age. "What has the cat dragged in, I wonder?"

His traveling partner gave the speaker something of a dirty look, removing one of her gloves distastefully, but Sheryl could not be bothered to care. An armful of his beautiful daughter was swarming into his lap as soon as he had taken a seat at the table, and he smoothed her hair back and tucked her head beneath his chin.

"There was none of that, little brother. On the contrary, I thought perhaps I would be the one doing the dragging."

"In your dreams," Lulubell snapped, though she too took a place at the table and helped herself to the cream. "The next time you need an extra woman to fawn over you, you're on your own."

Rhode stiffened in his arms, and Sheryl gave Lulu a wounded look. "But my dear! My beloved wife knows you, and feels safe with you and the two servants from the house. If I was to be seen with strange women, engaging in such frivolity, whatever would she think?"

"Was there something . . . auspicious about the number three?" Tyki's head was cocked, as if he was interested in the response, and he was gently waving a wineglass by its rim, aerating the liquid contents against the side of the crystal.

"The more distraction the better," Sheryl replied glibly. "You've fought him at least once, haven't you? He's only moderately intelligent, but he is observant."

Tyki Mikk shook his head with a half-smile, having no idea how dashing the long lock of curling hair on his forehead made him in the half-light of the room. "I would have expected the sight of you to have been enough, women or not."

Rhode shifted in his arms again as he chuckled, and he smoothed her hair again and let her squirm around until she was sitting properly on his lap. "As would I, little brother. As would I."

That piqued their interest; both Rhode and Tyki blinked up at him, nonplussed, and Lulubell gave a delicate snort.

"The two Exorcists walked right by us up the stairs. Oblivious. We should have struck, Sheryl," she added critically. "The death of the general's apprentice so soon after his rescue would have put Froi Tiedoll into a frenzy. He would have been so upset even you two could have defeated him this time 'round."

Both of them bristled, Sheryl noted, but for two different reasons.

"Don't group me with that arrogant-"

"Had I not been distracted by a petty worry-"

"He really didn't recognize you?" Rhode's voice was slightly higher than theirs, childlike and full of curiosity that absolutely did not befit her stature and dress.

Trust Rhode Camelot to grasp the full meaning of his words. "Indeed, he looked directly at me and proceeded past as though we had never met. It was no act on his part." Then, recalling Lulubell's last comment, he addressed her. "And if you hadn't gathered previously, he is rather difficult to kill."

Tyki glanced at their sister, who closed her eyes and inclined her head slightly. The Noah of Pleasure took a thoughtful sip of his wine, and Sheryl took special note of the way his jaw moved as he savored the taste on all four quadrants of his silver tongue.

"So it's true," he said, after a time, and replaced the wineglass. "You are certain?"

Sheryl graced his younger brother with a fond look. "Would I lie to you?"

"In a heartbeat," was the immediate reply. "And are we to assume the rest of our information is correct? He never revealed your name or previous position to the Order?"

"There's no reason to doubt." He glanced at the table, but the only hors d'oeuvres available were out of reach without dislodging Rhode, whom he could tell by the lift of her cheeks was smiling. And she had a great deal to be smiling about.

"It would appear a Noah did indeed take his memories. Just in time, I would imagine."

And there was only one of them that would have acted to do so without telling them. Well, two, but one of them was about twenty years late as far as rebirths were concerned. Then again, the other wasn't supposed to be awake yet either.

"Still, though, I wonder why?" Tyki took another sip of his wine. "It would serve both Walker and the Fourteenth's best interest to safeguard that information, not discard it."

Rhode shook her head, and Sheryl admired her hair ribbon. "Ne, don't you see? Allen would be sad that his friend was broken. He would want the same thing that wretched Exorcist with the clock would want. They would want him back to his old self again. And once he saw my dream . . . " Sheryl could hear the smile in her voice. "He'll come and play for sure now."

"What makes you think the Fourteenth would have interrogated the Exorcist enough to get to your dream?" Lulubell's voice was only slightly accusatory.

"You don't know how he works either, do you," Tyki replied, before Rhode could. "The Earl described it as though the Musician can hear the way his target hears music. He didn't just control the Ark, he could control emotion, memory, and behavior by . . . playing a different tune, to borrow a phrase. When he tried to kill the Earl, he used a song to neutralize the rest of us. Which is why none of us can remember him, so the Earl says." Tyki carefully kept his voice devoid of anything like doubt, but Sheryl wondered at it. "Supposedly when he hears what his target hears, he 'understands' why the music sounds like it does, and in so doing learns of the reasons behind an emotion or memory."

"The Musician could have gleaned everything," Rhode confirmed, just a tad forcefully. "Even if Allen didn't."

"And the Walker boy couldn't very well admit to the Order that he used the Fourteenth's abilities in that manner. They would panic. And that assumes Walker realized it at all." Sheryl shrugged. "It would seem that, at minimum, they are affecting one another, even if they are not fully conscious of it, and even if the Fourteenth is not fully conscious at all."

The Musician's powers, at least, were intact enough. That kind of mercy was unusual for the Musician, but it could be chalked up to Walker's bleeding heart rubbing off on the Noah. "Frankly, that single piece of information makes the entire thing worthwhile," he murmured.

"But I don't know if we should tell the Earl yet." His daughter's voice was sober. "He'll be very upset, and he's almost finished with the next part."

Tyki looked mildly surprised. "You want to withhold this from the Earl? Don't you think that will upset him more?"

She shimmied out of Sheryl's lap altogether and stole a scone from the table. "Maybe, but it's better to ask forgiveness than permission, ne?"

-x-

Two Weeks Ago

It was perhaps an hour before the sheets were filled out, and Kanda set down the pen and eased the cramp in his wrist. He would have preferred to use brushes but there simply wasn't room on the documents, which had been intended for English, and the only other option was to say everything he had just written aloud.

It didn't really make a difference but it did somehow, and he preferred a muscle cramp to having to hear the echo of the words in his ears.

He supposed he could carry the sheets to his door, which was still lockless, and hand them to the inspectors who were doubtlessly stationed outside. But that was too much effort, and he didn't particularly feel like being any more social than he already had. He glanced over the desk, forcing his eyes to take in the hourglass before standing and stretching.

The lights were killed in due time, and his shirt was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor. It was still a bit chilly but his blankets felt suffocating, so he lay on top of them, staring at a dark corner of his dark ceiling.

The general had left him alone today. Which was nothing but a positive thing; it allowed him to eat by himself, which he had failed to do, it allowed him to meditate with Mugen, which had not been successful, to spar with the idiot rabbit, at least that had been marginally helpful to his overall mood . . .

It worried him. If he was honest with himself and this cold place in his gut, he was afraid. Afraid that he was disappointing his general. Afraid that something would happen because of it.

Because of fucking Sheryl Camelot. He never used to care. The Noah had made him care, because disappointing that son of a bitch had hurt. And in a way, disappointing Tiedoll would hurt so much worse.

Dammit.

He threw an arm carelessly over his face, so that his eyes would at least stay closed, and forced himself not to see the things on the back of his eyelids. Theodore was waiting for him, was always waiting for him to screw up and the pit of his stomach was all too familiar in the darkness.

But opening his eyes meant no sleep, and that was just another victory for Sheryl.

The technique worked until he was nearly asleep. A puff of air washed over him, as if someone opened the door or window, and he could have sworn Theodore was right by his ear.

He twitched at the cold, but refused to move his arm. It was just another bullshit-

The window wasn't open. And neither was the door.

So he was asleep already.

Kanda didn't move, not even when something warm and supple wrapped around his forearm, too thick to be Theodore's strings and too long to be a hand. The thing slithered like a tongue beneath his arm to his face, and Kanda realized with a start that it was new.

This wasn't a memory.

His eyes flew open but there was nothing to be done. More warmth, around his legs, binding his arms, already around his mouth and nose and denying even the most muffled of yells. Not his eyes, though, they were left uncovered, and then he was lifted from the bed and into a rectangle of darkness that made the corner of his ceiling positively glow in comparison.

Not that it mattered. His bindings were blindingly white, and while they could not defeat the darkness, they more than illuminated their master.

A door opened at Kanda's feet, into a space so bright that Kanda had to close his eyes against it, and then he was carried into a very familiar room and laid gently on the couch. As if he was going to continue fucking sleeping.

The second Crown Clown withdrew Kanda sucked in some much needed air and took his feet, and he found the strength to glare as his surprise gave way to wariness. They were on the Ark, though he'd never seen moyashi summon a Gate without light, and they were in the Player's room. Allen was standing beside the chair Cross Marian had been sitting in when they'd walked in on him and Lenalee-

But Allen wasn't sitting. He was standing beside it, staring at the floor with his bangs in his eyes. Crown Clown remained active around him, in the form of a cowl, motionless now that it wasn't being used to manhandle him.

"What." If there was something moyashi had to tell him that couldn't be overheard by the Order, it had better be fucking serious, or he-

He didn't have Mugen.

He didn't have Mugen and no one knew where he was but moyashi.

"Come closer," a voice spoke, from the right, and Kanda whipped around, landing in a defensive position –

And was greeted by his own reflection in a wall mirror.

Only it wasn't his reflection. His skin was grey, not the tinge of the Noah but sickly and moist as if he was starved for oxygen. His veins were all so blue they seemed black, writhing beneath the skin of his face and neck, and rather than the tattoo more blood vessels had spread across his chest from his heart, gradually tapering off to flesh that was slightly pinker in color, and veins that were lighter blue.

As if his heart was a black void, poisoning the rest of his body.

He balled his right hand into a fist, and his reflection did the same.

"Moyashi-"

"Allen is no shorter than you," the voice remarked silkily. "Twiggy."

And then Kanda realized that Allen's reflection wasn't right either.

The figure in the mirror across from Walker was quite a bit taller than them both, and rounder, and somehow indistinct. His skin seemed to be made of lines that swirled continuously, and the paisley design on the Victorian-cut coat and vest shimmered and seemed to move on its own. There were no distinct features on the face, either, save a cartoon-like, wide white smile, and round white eyes.

And despite the fact that it was only a figure in a mirror, the thing radiated such malice and amusement it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Though Allen remained stock-still, encased in Crown Clown, his reflection moved closer to the Kanda-figure in the mirror. Kanda refused to give ground, which seemed to require his own reflection to remain still also, and the dying figure frowned at him. Ink – or maybe blood – trickled from its mouth as it did so. Yuu haltingly wiped his chin with the back of his hand, but there was nothing on it. Just normal skin, pinpricked with the cold.

His reflection stared at the back of its hand as well, then licked the black blood from its skin.

"Moyashi." He said it more sharply this time, turning away from the mirror and glaring straight at the boy. "Oi!"

Allen didn't respond.

"Allen worries for you," the voice observed in an almost sing-song chant. "Allen is sad."

"Walker!" He took a step towards the other boy, and in the corner of his eye he saw his reflection do the same. It brought it closer to Allen's-

No. That was no reflection.

That was a Noah. The Noah that Walker was doomed to become. The Fourteenth.

Kanda glared at the Noah, and the white grin grew wider.

"What do you want." It almost hurt to grind the words out. He didn't want to care what a Noah wanted. He wanted Mugen in his hand, and he'd break that fucking mirror-

The chair. The chair Allen was standing beside. If he broke the mirror, maybe he could break whatever spell the Noah was holding over Allen.

He continued to glare at the thing, not giving anything away, and though Walker never so much as twitched, the Noah extended a thick arm, pointing directly at him. As if it could see him.

"He marked you."

He knew there was nothing there, just his chest as it had been half an hour ago, but his eyes were drawn to his reflection, which was staring dully at him. It had licked the back of its hand as clean as it could with a bloody tongue, and was now taking care to keep that hand slightly away from its clothes.

Sheryl didn't like it if he soiled his good clothes-

His eyes widened as he recognized the pants. They were not his own black sleeping pants, they were brown breeches. Long lines crisscrossed the shins, though, they were sliced and blood marked the edges, so there was no point, they were already ruined-

His eyes flicked back to the Noah. "What do you mean?"

And the Noah continued to point. "Allen does not want you to hurt."

It took him a moment to piece out what the Noah was saying. "I'm fine. Moyashi, snap out of it."

But the Noah shook his head, slowly. Almost pityingly. "He has poisoned you. You are weakening, and obey him even now."

That was not true. It was only his reflection that obeyed Sheryl's fucking rules –

Yet Allen's reflection as the Noah was accurate, in a way. He was the vessel for the Fourteenth. He wielded the Fourteenth's powers. He controlled the Ark. Allen Walker was the Player, would become the Player.

No. No. He had cast off Sheryl's influence, he was not the Noah's puppet! The mirror might have shown him what he expected to see, but that didn't mean it was true.

"You think so?" he managed to growl, and then Kanda let his face draw into a snarl, stalking towards Walker as if he meant to throttle him. Which he wanted to do, actually, he wanted to shake him so hard it made his teeth ache. He saw his reflection moving towards the Noah and he wondered what would happen in the mirror if he did attack Allen.

Whether Allen was commanding his reflection, or the other way around.

He reached for the boy and Crown Clown edged up, covering his face and throat. No matter; he shoulder-checked Allen out of the way, to the floor, and his hand closed on the top rung of the chairback instead of the idiot's hair. In one fluid motion Kanda turned, using his momentum to swing around three hundred degrees before he released the chair at the mirror.

His reflection had dutifully done the same, crossing the room to the Noah and reaching out for him, and though Crown Clown had protected Allen, the Noah had grabbed his reflection's wrist. The skin turned from pink to white in the Noah's grasp, and his reflection seemed to be in pain, but then the Noah's smile slipped, and the chair impacted right atop his face, shattering –

And the wooden pieces crashed down at the base of the mirror, which did not have so much as a crack.

"You cannot break a mirror from the inside," the Noah told him, though the smile was gone as if it had never been. His reflection was pulling away from the Noah, but not like it meant it, and its lips were drawn back in a silent hiss. Worse, its eyes were dead, they had no hope, no anger, nothing but pain and hopelessness, and the white was slowly creeping up its arm, making the skin appear brittle.

Kanda's own right arm began to go numb, though a glance showed it was the same color as the rest of him.

"He marked you," the Noah repeated, and Kanda glanced up to see the Fourteenth reaching for his reflection's black heart. "His poison is very effective. It has already halved your synchronization to Innocence."

Kanda felt as if he had just been struck in the gut. His synch rate to Mugen . . . this was why? His eyes were drawn unwillingly back to his reflection, and he watched in horror as the Noah's hand plunged into the captive figure, wrist-deep like that bastard Mikk. But unlike the Noah of Pleasure, the Player could not do so harmlessly. Black blood was spilling down his reflection's chest, which was staring at him, stunned but somehow not surprised that he had allowed this to happen to it.

Was that . . . was that how he had looked . . .?

"It will ruin you. That is why Allen must take the poison."

Kanda bared his teeth at the image, ignoring the growing numbness now spreading from his chest, as well. He didn't want to even consider what 'take the poison' might mean. If this was like one of Rhode's dreams, then if he believed what he was seeing was real, it would be. And if he denied it, he'd be fine. Wasn't that what Lavi's report had said . . .?

But was the Noah right . . .? His synch rate hadn't been getting any better, not even with meditation. Was that voice that whispered to him, was that the reason . . . ?

"Do not fight," the Player said, almost kindly. "It does not hurt."

"I can't die," he snarled, taking an experimental step back. His reflection twitched, more blood coming from its mouth, but it was unable to do the same. And despite the black pooling on the floor, his skin remained the same gray color, his chest just as dark. "Whatever you're doing won't work."

The wide smile returned. "Allen will take the poison."

The hell Walker was going to do anything, he was comatose on the damn floor-

A glance confirmed that he wasn't there.

Kanda turned, stunned, to see the white cowl just taking a seat at the piano bench. Only Allen's spiky hair differentiated him from his Innocence, and his hands, one misshapen and sharp, the other comically large, were placed gently on the keys.

"Oi, Walker-!"

"He does not want it to hurt," the mirror told him, even as he started towards Allen. It was getting harder to walk, he couldn't feel his feet on the floor anymore though he kept moving. "I do not care."

I.

It was the first time he'd heard the Noah use first person.

Kanda hesitated, stumbling, and his knees automatically folded themselves, so that he landed hard on the marble floor. The sting was secondary and feeble, he barely paid any attention to it.

He was kneeling. To Allen.

And though there was nothing stopping him, no pressure, no Crown Clown, he could not regain his feet. His body was too heavy, and he just could not move. Even his arms, his hands pressed to the floor to support him, did not have the strength to push him up.

They looked thin to him. Weak.

"My brother poisoned you," the Fourteenth repeated. "Allen can see it. Allen knows what must be done."

He didn't like the sound of that any more now than he had a minute ago, and panic slowly began to creep up his throat, as icy cold as the floor, as he realized there was nothing he could do about it. "I'm fine," he repeated, hating how small it sounded. "The voice is gone. I got rid of it. Moyashi-"

"We can see it. We agree it must be done." Finally, there was a slight impatience in the Fourteenth's voice. Was this silence, this lack of playing, a symptom of Allen's resistance?

"Dammit, Walker, wake up!"

"Do you think he is asleep?" The voice sounded amused, and slightly mocking. Clearly the Player's patience did have an end. "Then how did you come here? I cannot control the Innocence. Crown Clown belongs to Allen. Allen brought you here to draw the poison out. Do not fight. It does not hurt."

A single note sounded from the piano, the hammer striking the wire inside, but gently. Testing out the water.

"Walker-" He thought his voice cracked, it was getting harder to use his tongue. He was certain if he had the strength to turn around, he would see his reflection covered in ice, kneeling to the Noah. God dammit!

There had to be something he could do, there was always another way-

"Let me fight." He closed his eyes, he didn't want to see if Allen turned to look at him. "Let me fight this on my own."

The piano was silent.

Whatever Sheryl left in him, it wasn't physical. Maybe it was doubt, maybe it was fear. He would overcome it. He had overcome it, in the past, and this fight he would win-

But Walker was sitting there, unmoving, armored in his Innocence and still listening to that fucking Noah. If Crown Clown was not strong enough to force the Noah's influence from Allen Walker, then was Kanda strong enough to throw off the lesser influence of Sheryl Camelot?

And how did the Fourteenth propose to remove it, without taking a part of him in the process?

But to have Mugen back, to get his synch rate back -

"You are already defeated." He would have sworn that the Noah had stepped out of the mirror, that it was standing just behind him. "Allen will help you."

"Walker, don't-"

And then the voice was right in his ear, just a whisper. Just for him. "And we can't have you ruined, I'm afraid. I still have need of you, Exorcist."

"Baka moyash-"

The pure, clear notes of a flute floated across the room, and Kanda trailed off in shock as he recognized the melody.

-x-

Author's Notes: So all of you that guessed Allen, you were right. You might have noticed that canon has proved me to be full of crap! Except for Sheryl. (Or Cyril, depending on what translation you read.) He is the same creepy bastard in this fic as he is in canon. Yay!

I guess it's not often that an author gets to be corrected by canon so unexpectedly during the writing of a fic, but I am glad that the manga is continuing despite its sharp turn from its own path, and that Hoshino is ready and able to continue bringing us the awesomeness and crack that is D. Gray Man.

As for my own little social experiments, it is worth noting that this fandom is not nearly as good about reviewing as the Fullmetal Alchemist or Trigun fandoms. Those who did review, however, were extremely helpful and identified specific things they liked and did not like. That was super awesome!

Also, the majority of you seemed to get the CIM and CIP concept pretty well, but definitely preferred one over the other. These are all things that are very helpful to me as a writer, so I want to thank all of you for your help!

As for me, I think this was my first and last visit to the D. Gray Man fandom. I love all of you, but for the amount of time I spent on this fic, I could have tried the CIM and CIP experiment in FMA or Trigun and gotten four times the amount of feedback. My ultimate goal here is to have fun, but also to improve. This fic is very popular, and I'm very flattered! But I don't know why. I think my time will be better spent finishing up and continuing work in fandoms that are more responsive. Many, many thanks to all of you that let me know what you thought!

Everyone else? C'mon, guys, it's the Christmas season. Go back to a fic you've been following for twenty chapters and never reviewed, and leave that author some comments! Be specific, let them know what works and doesn't! Egoboos make the fanfic go round – go make an author squee today!!

Melric, I'll be emailing you shortly to give you an ETA on when you can expect your pressie!