I rush into my room and close the door. Hopefully, Reever and Johnny will be able to succeed in forcing Komui to bathe. He hasn't even touched a faucet in a week. He needs to relax. I'm tired of him worrying about me.

It will be a dangerous mission. I know it, because my brother hasn't left me alone since he received notice on a mission Allen, Lavi, Kanda, and I must go to. It will be very deadly. I know it. Komui won't let me forget it.

I collapse in front of my desk. I haven't had a wink of sleep in days (courtesy of my overprotective, obsessive older brother) so I'm not even close to knowing why I didn't take advantage of Komui's temporary absence and doze for a while.

I look down. I'm holding a pen and paper.

It will be a very dangerous mission. Even Komui is worried about if I might come back…

I begin to write.

"Lenalee Lee, Black Order Exorcist, Age 16, September 18, 1876"

Somehow, just writing the heading makes me feel better. I like the relief of knowing that at least some information will stay, not filed. It won't be facts. It will be my life's story.

From me.

I continue.

"Allow me to begin from the beginning. That is the most logical place to start, right?

My earliest memory…the day my parents died. True, I was only four at the time, but it is burned into my mind with a painful bite.

I knelt by them, lying together, gasping. I'd watched them wither away for months, without really knowing what had happened. Komui was the only one in the home (besides them, of course) that understood the deathly sickness they had both caught.

It was a contagious illness, so he'd keep me outside with him. Away from them. We became so distant from them; I don't even remember what my parents looked like. Komui did, and does. He said that I looked exactly like a slightly thinner version of my mother, and to imagine him, Komui, with short hair and a small goatee and I'd have the perfect picture of my dad. I'd laughed at the mental image of the awkward looking couple on their wedding day.

But, how off topic I am getting!

I remember holding my mother's hand, and suddenly feeling it go limp. I didn't know that she was dead. I thought she had just gone to sleep.

So, Komui's behavior for the next two weeks or so was extremely confusing. I didn't know why I couldn't see my parents. I didn't know why everyone was moping.

In fact, the first thing I really knew for sure was that I was being taken away from my brother and I had a pretty new pair of boots. I could run really fast in them.

But the boots meant nothing. I wanted my brother back.

I screamed and cried for my release. I wanted out. They refused to listen. I was even restrained. They didn't let Komui near me.

In short, it was my personal hell.

This went on for 3 years. I cannot even describe the high of pure joy, love, and relief I felt when he appeared by my bedside. Such an understatement. It was the best, most incredible feeling I ever have felt. Ever. Completely indescribable high. And to find out he was to join me at the Black Order? I felt that high again. I swear, what I wouldn't give for that feeling again…

The next several years passed somewhat monotonously, but never boringly. I went on mission after mission. Komui had become obsessively attached to me after our separation, so I spent my downtime with either him or my friends. Some days I'd eat soba in the dining hall with Kanda, or file boring records with Lavi, some days I'd spend hours taking trips to the science department, coffee at the ready. Some days, I'd just sit in my room. It all depended on the mission I'd just come from, what my next one was, and, of course, my mood.

Things really shook up when Allen arrived.

At first, I'd just shown kindness to him out of politeness, but soon, I realized that I desperately wanted him to be happy. I cared deeply for him, and constantly fretted over his safety and well-being.

He was an amazing friend to me. He was funny, smart, cute, a good listener, strong, and sweet. Honestly, of all the people in the universe, I can find the least amount of faults in him. He was just an all-around great person.

I recognized an amazing feeling about him. It confused me at first, but I've recently figured out what it was.

Love.

I love him.

I love Allen.

Komui, if you are reading these words, I know how you feel. Trust me. I really do. But you must understand that I have grown up. I feel these things. I am powerless to control whether I do or not, anyway.

While I have always trusted and believed in my emotions, I cannot do an emotional goodbye. You see, I do not fear death. I do not see how I should, when my death will always somehow affect someone positively.

That is all I ever wanted.

I see no more need for words.

Lenalee Lee."

I sit back and look at what I've just written. I realize that these are essentially my memoirs, the life of an exorcist at the Black Order.

I know who would love this.

I check my pocket watch. It's been an hour since I left Reever, Johnny, and Komui. Depending on how much my brother fought them, they might be done soon. I have little time left to myself.

I quickly pull out an envelope and carefully tuck the pages I've just written inside. I delicately place a wax seal bearing the Black Order's symbol onto the flap of the envelope. As I stand up stiffly from the desk, it occurs to me that I should probably write something on the envelope.

I arm myself with my pen once again and write the words: "Do not open until I am gone".

Then – using my boots – I race to the room that I must go to. Unfortunately, it's on the other side of the building.

Still, since I am using my Innocence, it takes little time to reach my destination. I quietly push open the door and slowly step inside.

Among the yard-high stacks of paper, I find the person I am looking for.

"Oh, hi, Lenalee," Lavi says, "Wanna help me write a couple records?"

"Not right now, sorry. I hate to bother you, but-"

"Mmm? What is it?"

I drop the envelope on the desk in front of him and turn to leave, ignoring his confused protests.

I honestly feel much better about having that off my chest. I know that I have left my mark on the world.

Or, at least, somebody's life.

That's all I want.

LALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALAlALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA

AN: I do not own D. Gray-Man.

The page breaker stands for Lenalee-Allen.

Reviews highly appreciated.

Dedicated to the Bs.