"Sheesh, I'm bored," Lavi muttered under his breath, propping his feet up on the coffee table. A hand suddenly swept them off as Allen passed by.

"Lavi, that's rude," Allen said as he walked to the window, and Lavi pouted, putting his feet back up on the tabletop.

"Whaaat? Come on, you can't tell me that you're not bored either," Lavi whined, leaning his head back. Even with that wonderful thing called the Internet, there just wasn't anything to do.

They had vacated the apartment, just as Miles had planned. In fact, they'd driven all the way from Wichita Falls up to a ranch outside of this dot on the map called Mangum, in the state of Oklahoma, which wasn't even a thing when Lavi and Bookman had last been to America. The only name it had had was "Indian Territory". Yet, here they were, in a state that was thriving.

Skitters, Miles' calico, meowed and pawed at Allen's pant leg, and the soft-hearted Exorcist picked up the feline with a smile. He began to rub the cat's head, and Skitters seemed to go limp as a wet noodle in his arms.

"We could go out and explore the property, I guess."

"We did that. There's nothing to see out there except for rolling hills, maybe two trees, and a couple of steer."

"We haven't looked out to the northern section yet!"

"Uuuugh, it's too hot. It's literally a hundred degrees outside. It doesn't even get that hot in Calcutta, India."

Lazily, Lavi picked up the television remote, made as if to push a button, and then finally threw it to the other side of the couch in frustration.

Lavi had already watched what seemed like hundreds of meaningless television shows, some ranging from the absolutely absurd to the downright mundane and back. He and Allen had 'educated' themselves quite thoroughly on this world's culture from their television programs, and they had to say- the world seemed to be in quite the sorry state. After all, what with women swinging naked on wrecking balls (something Lavi found hilariously vulgar and Allen found profane and horrific) and people screaming at each other in their plush, luxurious homes (what need have they to scream and yell? They weren't starving- though you couldn't tell from the way they looked), it was obvious that the moral standard of the world had declined. Though the program that showed them how certain items were made was truly informative and quite interesting...

However, he could only sit for so long doing nothing, and Allen was in quite the same predicament. After spending so many days doing nothing but lounging around, this vacation was becoming to resemble hell instead, especially if hell included reruns of the same things at night and boredom strong enough to split the skull.

"What's with you guys?" a voice said, and the two boys turned to look at the owner.

A tall man with silver and black hair stood in the doorway of the plush ranch house. He carried a brown bag in his arms and wore a rather loose work shirt and jeans.

"Hey dudes," Cam said from behind him, walking over to the counter to deposit another brown bag and head to the refrigerator for a drink that came in a pouch. Lavi had found that, to his disappointment, it only took two good sucks to down the entire thing, but it was an amusing storage device.

"So Dad totally crushed a scorpion in the driveway with the car cuz he saw it when he got out. Overkill, much?" Cam stated.

"It could've crawled into the house! You can never be too careful," Mr. Miles complained as he put his brown bag down on the counter in the kitchen. The two boys smiled at each other, looking in on this strange ritual of deprecation.

"We're bored out of our minds," Lavi complained dramatically, flinging himself at the couch. Allen rolled his eyes as he let Skitters down, and he added, "We've done the dishes, the laundry, and cleaned all the bathrooms. Nana is in bed right now with her four 'o clock headache, and thus far we've been without any sort of entertainment."

"You boys could've used the computer room, you know," Mr. Miles said as he put up the groceries with Cam. Allen proceeded to help, feeling guilty that he'd done (presumably) nothing to benefit the overall household with his presence.

"There is only so much footage of felines doing incredibly amusing things that I can take in a single sitting," the redhead confessed.

"Well, I'll tell you what, if you boys are so bored, I can have you load up the hay for me. A hundred bucks for each of you for the whole thing," Mr. Miles said.

Both Allen and Lavi stared at Mr. Miles with looks of incredulity. Their eyes seemed to bug out of their heads, and they remained speechless. The boys looked at each other with gleeful expressions.

"I'll head out right now!"

"Where are the work gloves?! Man, this is gonna be great!"

The two seemed a whirlwind as they gathered the necessary things before heading straight out the door towards the bales of hay on the western section of the ranch.

Cam and Mr. Miles were left staring at the spots they'd vacated with looks of bewilderment.

"What... did I say?"

"Dad, I already told you. They're from England. They're weird like that. It's, like, opposite land over there."

"A hundred bucks," Lavi panted. "A hundred whole United States dollars. Allen- think about it!"

"Oh, trust me, I'm aware! Though... I wonder, isn't that too much for this sort of work?" Allen gasped as he grabbed the bale of hay that Lavi handed to him. The truck with the trailer on the end was pulled up to the hay. Lavi had to admit that using such a luxurious vehicle for such a menial task seemed strange in his mind, but he wasn't going to deny that it wasn't nice. Mr. Miles had even let him drive the car. There were so many buttons, adjusters, and knobs that Lavi had thought he'd stepped foot in some sort of strange science fiction vehicle, which it basically was. Allen had also gotten to drive, but only once.

After nearly ramming into one of the only trees on the property, Mr. Miles had thought it best that Allen not be allowed to drive for a little while. Lavi felt that it was more for Mr. Miles' heart's sake than for Allen's lack of driving capabilities.

"Oh, come on, Allen. Can't you just take the gift without having to look the gift horse in the mouth? Besides, we're working, aren't we?" Lavi complained as he handed another bale of hay to Allen. They were heavy bales, too, and both boys were shining with sweat underneath the hot, Oklahoman sun. The dryness of the air made it that much worse, turning the spit in their mouths to ash and sapping their bodies of energy like the worst of any witch.

"Well, I suppose... Here, let's retire for a moment after this one, I'm parched," Allen suggested as Lavi handed him what seemed like the umpteenth bale of hay.

Afterwards, the both of them sat on the trailer's end, feet swinging off towards the red dirt.

"What would you buy with a hundred bucks? If we were back home?" Lavi asked.

Allen thought about it for a moment. He had never truly thought that before. After all, money was no object to him, despite the frequent running gag in his life of recurring debts that he had not even incurred. Though Allen enjoyed shopping a great deal, he never thought of shopping for himself. He was much more interested in seeing what joy he could bring someone else with his income. He suddenly smiled as he thought of something he'd last seen when they were... well, when they were home.

"Perfume. I'd buy perfume and several different sorts of ribbons and maybe a pair of those nice, buckled shoes..."

Lavi gave him an odd look, raising a single quizzical eyebrow.

"Uh... That was not what I expected. Have you been reading those girlish pulp novels in the bathroom? The ones with the men in tight jeans?"

"What? No! What ever are you think- Oh! Lavi!"

"It's a legitimate question! Maybe there's something about the water here that makes you feel, I dunno, freer or something-"

"No, no, not for me. I wouldn't want ribbons and perfume and - how can you think that?!"

Lavi smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, thankful for the bandana keeping his hair out of his face. He wiped his forehead and took a deep breath.

"You're just a little effeminate sometimes. That's all I'm going to say. It was all the rage in Edo before it collapsed," Lavi sighed. "It's... It's seen differently here. I mean, in Europe they would've crucified you upside down and sideways - in some places, literally..."

Allen looked down at his shoes, the strange rubber ones that he'd seen on so many other young men. They were incredibly comfortable, but they lacked a certain class that Allen was predisposed to. He preferred men's dress shoes as well as boots. Lavi, on the other hand, had a pair of rather large worker's boots he'd picked up from Mr. Miles, who was around Lavi's six foot height. Allen had honestly never even thought of the... freedom this world had with who they loved, and honestly he'd never truly taken an interest. It was of no concern to him, though he found it oddly disconcerting. Was he really effeminate?! He did love flowers, but surely that wasn't a new thing with men...

"Then if they're not for you, who're they for?" Lavi asked as he looked out over the empty plain. In the distance, there was a stand of trees to the north, the one part of the property they had yet to see. According to Gale, there was a rather large stream bed there that could be followed all they way to a deep valley hollow where old witch rituals had been held. Perhaps that was why Lavi and Allen had held off on seeing that portion of the property.

Lavi had an idea already, of course, for who all these items were for. His idea was further validated when Allen suddenly blushed profusely, and he hid his face by scratching his head, blocking Lavi's view with his arm. Lavi slowly smiled, and he leaned back to stare at the blue-white sky.

"Lenalee?"

"What ever gave you that idea?"

"You look like you're about to gush blood out of your nostrils."

"That's absurd!"

"What? I saw it on some Japanese animation footage. It indicates you like a girl!"

"I do not like-"

"Aw, can it, Allen, it's about as obvious as an elephant wearing a brassiere."

Allen was shocked by the sudden vehemence in Lavi's voice as the Bookman Junior stared out over the flat landscape. He stared at Lavi for a little bit. Allen furrowed his brow in worry. Lavi could have mercurial spells like this where he had sudden outbursts of emotion. Typically, it meant he'd either touched a raw nerve or something was bothering him. Lavi was much more emotional than he liked to let on. Though the interruption was mostly said in a joking style, he could feel the sourness in the words, like an apple not yet ripe.

"You like... liked her too?" Allen asked hesitantly.

Lavi seemed to chew the question over, opening his mouth several times as if searching for the words. He let loose a rush of breath.

"...At one point in time. Not anymore, of course. She's more like... I dunno, my little sister or my cousin or something now," Lavi admitted, scratching the side of his nose.

Allen played with a piece of hay, looking down at his black, almost charred hand and his normal one right next to it. It suddenly hit him, and he smiled sadly.

"You wished you had told her," Allen said.

"No! No, no, no, I'm glad I didn't. I can't, or... couldn't. I coudn't do that to her," Lavi said pensively, turning to Allen. "But I wish you had. She needs to know someone loves her, besides that maniac of a brother she's got. You would've been great for her."

Allen looked at Lavi with something like shock. Lavi, giving relationship advice? And relationship forecasts? The man was a master at gossip, but this was something else all together.

"Why couldn't you... couldn't you tell her?" Allen asked, letting the piece of hay float away in the hot, summer wind. Lavi's hair ruffled, as well as Allen's.

"I'm a Bookman. I could've been gone the very next day. That's no way to base your relationship. Love should be struck in concrete and rebar, not in sand," Lavi said sagely. "What sort of life would she have been left with if I'd started something, and then the very next day ended up on the other side of the world, documenting some other war?"

Allen stared at the ground. Sometimes, he'd honestly forgotten about the fact that Lavi's status as Exorcist was very temporary. He could never imagine living a life where he couldn't form attachments, make close bonds with the people he fought with and cried with. Allen was a very softhearted, compassionate person who was easily bruised by way of his soul. He had been afraid of forming connections, though, after becoming an Exorcist. So, in a way he and Lavi weren't so different. Allen could've died any day- and that was something he couldn't do to Lenalee either. He couldn't leave a hole that big in her.

"I couldn't do it either. Does that make us cowards?" Allen asked. The yellow grass swayed like the waves of a massive, terrestrial sea.

"Maybe. I don't know," Lavi stated. "I still love her. Not the same way, but... I mean, I love her. She was good to me. I tried to be good to her. I remember... Lord... There was that time when we were at sea with Miranda, and I thought... I dunno, I thought she'd died. Allen, I never felt something so horrible in my life as when I held her and thought that she might have died."

Allen's eyes widened.

"When was this?"

"You were... oh."

Allen looked down at his hands. She'd come that close to dying...? And where had he been? Recovering from a wound that was supposed to have killed him, all because he'd been foolish and soft, trying to... trying to save Suman and...

"No, no, Allen! It's not your fault. Trust me, it wasn't anyone's fault! Well, the Earl's maybe, but..." Lavi tried to explain, but Allen shook his head.

"What's... what's past is past, you know? Just... I wish I could've been there," Allen sighed to himself, looking up at the sky. Lavi clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Trust me, I think she'd been hoping that, too," Lavi said.

It was quiet for a few more moments, the only sound the whistling of the wind over the grasses.

"What would you buy with a hundred dollars back home?" Allen asked curiously.

Lavi suddenly grinned wide.

"How much do you think one of those Barcelona women costs for a night?"

"Lavi!"

"What?! It's a legitimate question!"

"...And this is the carburetor. It mixes the air and the gas in the tank so that it can get flushed into the engine where it's used to drive it with a small explosion, which is what these are for: spark plugs. They start the chain reaction by making a small spark," Liam Smithson said. Kanda looked over the mess of metal internal organs, the inside of the automobile a mass of interconnecting hoses, fixtures, and strange parts.

"And you expect me to learn all this in a week?" Kanda asked seriously, his dark gaze staring at Liam with raised eyebrows. Liam gave him a challenging look.

Kanda was dressed in a black tank top and a pair of jeans that were a size too big around the waist, cinched tight with a belt. His hair was loosely put up in a bun to keep it out of the way. He'd learned the hard way that hair had a tendency to get trapped on things in the garage, and it wasn't safe to have it free floating as was his usual wont.

He scratched the back of his head as he stared at the guts of the car, some of them splayed on tables and the other parts in the front cavity of the car.

"Fine. Might as well make myself useful somehow," he muttered under his breath, taking up a manual and shooting a look at Liam. The Irish mechanic smiled as he wiped his hands on an oily rag and left the dour Japanese man to his machinations. Kanda had just started to process the first few sentences of the manual when the weight of an entire body leaned against his back, and he sighed, rubbing his nose.

Soooo, what're you doing? Ashling buzzed through his ear with a squeeze and tug of his earlobe.

"Shut up and go away. Do your witch stuff."

Awwww, come on, you haven't taken on a new lesson since Friday! I promise not to shrink your pants this time.

Ashling gave him a pout, looking over his shoulder at the car manual sitting on his knee. She frowned as she skimmed a few lines.

You understand any of this?

Kanda shifted uncomfortably on his stool, readjusting the book. He remained silent, a more telltale sign than if he'd ever said anything. She made a face of sympathy.

You don't, do you?

"Ashling. Go. Away," Kanda growled under his breath. Typically, he would've shooed her off with his sword or some such implement, but Liam had denied him any sort of weapon while in the garage. Not to mention, he didn't know what he'd knock over if he tried to remove her forcefully. Still, she was beginning to be a pain in his rear end.

Reluctantly, Ashling stopped leaning on his back, and she walked away, leaving Kanda to sulk on his own. He stared at the words on the page in front of him.

They swam like alphabet soup in front of his eyes, the words seeming to jump places and the sentences refusing to stay still. He would have much better preferred the manual to be in Chinese, but English was what they had and English was what he would work with. Yet, Kanda could feel the limits of his brain like elastic bands stretched to their max. He hadn't been schooled in much English, just enough to read signs and documents. This was a totally different English all together, and he was struggling.

After nearly thirty minutes of trying to decipher a single paragraph, Kanda slammed the manual shut and slammed it on a table. He rubbed his temples with his long fingers, and he sighed through his nose. He looked out of the garage where two kids were playing in the concrete lot that housed some of the cars. One was an older girl with a younger brother, the two of them kicking a rubber ball around.

Suddenly, Kanda felt a pathos build inside of him, watching the two kids laugh and play with something so simple. His toys had been a sword and small fishing rod he'd made of bamboo. He felt as if he were watching something he'd missed, a moment in time he might've had.

"Oi, you okay, mate?" Caughney, another Smithson brother, asked from the doorway. Kanda looked up, not at all surprised by the teenage boy's presence.

"Sure," Kanda grunted, getting up from his chair. The day was hot, and he was sweating buckets in this heat. The two kids in the yard, how could they play when it was over a hundred degrees? He didn't understand it.

"Miles is here to talk to you," Caughney stated quietly. Kanda stared out at the yard a moment longer before he moved towards the door.

She sat in the living room on the plush sofa. Kanda had been sleeping there for several nights, and he had to say that it was better than half the beds he'd slept in working for the Order and traversing God's green earth. She was sipping a cup of hot coffee, despite the heat, and she looked as if she hadn't slept in days. Kanda couldn't blame her. He couldn't sleep either.

The ergomund kept penetrating his mind late at night. He wasn't sure why, and he didn't know how, but he always felt as if something, a massive eye, were watching him in his sleep. And... most of all, Alma reappeared, always smiling and always bloodied. Kanda had had little sleep, but then again he didn't exactly need much sleep. He didn't need much of anything, really, besides a ton of food to keep his horrible metabolism running. He was almost always hungry...

"What are you doing here?" Kanda growled, standing over her, not deigning to sit. His eyes were cold and hard, obsidian chips. Miles, with her crooked nose and hazel eyes, looked up at the Japanese man with a look of exhaustion. It hit him for a minute that there really was no reason to heckle her, but he felt he'd already made his point. No use trying to fix it now.

"Been tracking down some things here, and I'm setting up another set of living arrangements. This one's definitely nicer-"

"I'm not living with you," Kanda growled.

"Yeah, I know," Miles muttered under her breath. She looked into her coffee cup, and Kanda finally sat down in an armchair next to the coffee table. He didn't understand the need for the low table, seeing all it was used for was storing crap and accumulating rings from the myriad of drinks that got left on its wooden surface, but he couldn't complain about the armchair. If there was anything Kanda wanted to take back with him, it was the armchair.

"Anyhow... I just wanted to tell you that Allen, Lavi, and the old man are okay."

"Mm."

"And that they're gonna be enrolled in school."

"Mm."

"And... We think that the gangs might target you, and soon," Miles said with a tight expression, putting the coffee cup on the battered table. Kanda stared at her.

"I can handle them."

"I don't think you understand, Yu, is that your-"

"Don't you ever call me that again."

Miles' eyes widened with surprise at the vehemence and venom in Kanda's voice. The younger man stared at her with enough heat to fry an egg. Ashling suddenly intruded with a flounce of her hair and a tray of delectable finger foods that Liam must've whipped up or had in the fridge. She looked between Miles and Kanda hesitantly before placing a hand over Miles'. They looked into each other's eyes, and Miles' once again looked surprised, flicking her gaze to Kanda.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense. I hadn't realized it would make you upset. I just wanted to tell you to be real careful these days, 'kay? It's high time for the gangs and the guys selling dope, weed, crystal meth, - you don't know what any of that is. Sorry. Just... it's gonna get hot here for a while right before school starts," Miles explained.

Ashling did a few hand signs, and Kanda never relaxed in the chair, realizing what they were implying.

"I won't go out and make trouble. Trouble tends to find me," Kanda said defiantly, crossing his arms and staring out the window.

Miles stared at him for a little while longer before turning to look at Ashling. The redhead shrugged her shoulders. Miles sighed and stood up.

"Alright. I believe you. Just... just be careful, okay? It's not going to look good when they find out an undocumented immigrant died and was in my care at the time, capiche? If you've got any issues, call me," Miles said, heading towards the door. After it had closed, Kanda stood up and began to walk towards the garage. Ashling followed.

"Look, I don't need any of your 'help' right now. I'll take up a magic lesson later," Kanda said to her, making sure she could see his face. Ashling crossed her arms in defiance as Kanda sat back down on the stool he'd vacated when Gale had come in. Ashling rolled her eyes when Kanda picked up the manual and began to read it again.

She began signing to him rather irately.

Fine. Do what you want. Not my problem.

Kanda stared solidly into the book, picking apart each word practically letter by letter.

The... car...carbur...carburetor... The carburetor fu... functions... as a... The carburetor functions as...

There was a small noise by the garage door, and Kanda looked up with a swift flick of the eyes, never moving his head. His first instinct was to grab at his waist, only to realize his sword was gone.

A Hispanic kid, probably 14 or 15, stood by the garage door. Realizing he'd been spotted, he ran off. Kanda looked up fully, staring at where the kid had stood for several more seconds before shaking the event out of his mind. He went straight back to his book.

It was going to be a long, hot day.

The smell of burning flesh in the air, thick as a mealy soup, bitter to the tongue. He sloshed through the water with thick boots on, trying to ignore the crunching noises underneath. The moon was a massive, bright orb hanging over their heads, and he breathed out, a cloud of white. It was so cold. Their clothes floated, tan cloaks empty of any form within, and he tried to pick one up, but his hands just went straight through. No matter what he did, his hands just went into the water, through the cloak as if it had never been. He started to shake with cold, realizing how frigid the air was. His eyes strayed to the water, looking at its murky grayness, the ash floating on top like the oil in a soup. He swallowed.

"Why couldn't I save you?"

The heaps stood out like mountains in the calf-deep water, self-destructed demons. He'd heard their screams, known that they'd died in vain. He felt his heart lurch, realizing someone was behind him.

"Yes... why couldn't you save any of them?"

That grandfatherly voice, old and sonorous in this bleak night. He felt something press through his chest, and when he looked down there was the sword. It was thick and black, a white stripe through it to form a crucifix.

"You can't save anyone. Am I right?"

He opened his eyes slowly. When he realized he was no longer in a dream, he sat up in his bed, clutched at his chest, and began to hyperventilate. Though they were no longer in that world, the demons wouldn't go away. These weren't the usual demons either, the type that could be done away with in the blink of an eye, the sweep of a boot, the majestic reach of a single claw. These were lingering, festering demons that liked to intrude the mind and worm inside the soul, rooting themselves deep. In waking, he could ignore them with the wonders of this world, but at night, alone with nothing but his mind and that little voice deep in the back of his head...

He buried his face into his hands, rubbing at his eyes and his cheeks in an attempt to rub away the nightmare. In the bed above him, Lavi snored softly, his hand dangling off the bunk before suddenly thrashing himself into a new position. He smiled softly, briefly as he remembered going on missions with him, the redhead tossing and turning in his sleep and making the bed creak like the joints of one decades old.

But the memory also brought to mind the many things they'd had to fight, the horrors they'd seen. He'd seen souls abused, countless souls trapped and bound. Their screaming had been seen, their pain had been displayed for him to see. He had witnessed, and he had proclaimed. Thinking of the poor souls strapped to those bodies of disgusting metal and guns, he wanted to throw up.

He curled up on his bed, thinking of the people who'd died, the people he'd been two seconds too late to save. There seemed to be too many to count, and now without them, even more would die. A horrible guilt seized him as he realized how much fun he'd been having here, enjoying the fruits of a world without that sort of suffering, not even giving a thought to the others they'd left behind.

He crawled out of the bed, and he stumbled to the kitchen, clutching his shoulder. His black hand, which he'd kept hidden under bandages (Mr. Miles had no idea who they were or where they were from, only that they were exchange students on hard times, and so he'd blamed the bandages on an accident), seemed to ache as he thought of the time it'd been so cruelly broken to pieces.

"Allen? What are you doing up, boy?" a familiar gruff voice said. He turned his head, rubbing his eyes of tears.

Bookman sat at the kitchen table with an electronic tablet, the likes of which Allen was seeing more and more frequently. He must have been reading something.

"N-nothing," Allen answered shakily, putting on a brave face. Bookman's eyes narrowed, but Allen didn't much care to explain himself.

Bookman suddenly put down the tablet with a sigh. Beside him sat a mug of something hot, no doubt coffee of some sort to keep him up. Bookman was notorious for staying up all night and sometimes sleeping off the day. With his bald-head, his kohl lined eyes, and his large ears, he appeared to be some sort of late-night vampire or some such. In that moment, Allen grieved heavily as he realized that he also missed Krowley more than he dared admit to himself.

"Come on. Walk with me," the elderly chronicler stated, and Allen blinked dully.

"I'm... I'm in pajamas," Allen laughed sardonically, staring at his loaned set of striped pants and loose t-shirt.

Bookman merely stared at him and walked towards the front door, pressing the code into the house's security system. The door opened, spilling moonlight into the house, and Allen idly followed, almost as if against his will.

Bookman stood out in stark relief against the sky, a miniscule man with a high, strange ponytail seeming to waggle in the wind. He no longer wore the Exorcist coat, instead opting for a rather long tunic he'd found somewhere in the mall, as well as Chinese styled pants. Without looking behind him, he waved for Allen to follow him. With slight trepidation, Allen followed behind.

Bookman headed towards the bales of hay that Allen and Lavi had put up just that day. He motioned for the boy to take a seat, and Allen climbed up to the top bale. Across the Oklahoma land, hills rolled lazily like the frozen waves of a massive ocean. The moon threw everything into bright contrast, and the little man hopped up to sit next to the boy.

They were quiet for quite a while, nothing but the hot wind giving sound to the night. Allen looked to the sky, his eyes tracking the stars. He suddenly pointed.

"There's Cassiopeia."

His hand moved what seemed like a fraction.

"That's Andromeda..."

Again, the hand moved.

"And that's Draco."

Bookman nodded.

"You're well-versed in your constellations, I see. Do you remember the myth?"

Allen was quiet, his eyes deep as the space above their heads.

"Cassiopeia was Andromeda's mother. She boasted of her beauty... and her land was stricken by the gods for her hubris. A sea serpent was to attack the waters of their port every day until Andromeda was given to it as an offering, a way of atoning for the hubris her mother possessed," Allen reiterated.

"And who are you... Allen?" Bookman asked.

Again, the quiet was stifling, almost seeming to drag the breath out of their lungs on a hot windy night.

"I felt like Andromeda," Allen admitted. "The Order... thought I was their shining star, and then we were attacked. Because of our pride. Except, Andromeda had Theseus. I have to- had... to save myself."

His white hair seemed to glow under the light of the moon, and he closed his eyes. He scrunched his face suddenly, a tear leaking underneath a lid.

"I had to save myself. And the serpent is still out there, but it can't touch me," Allen breathed. "But the port... Everyone else... Without an Andromeda to feed it..."

Bookman chuckled, and Allen looked at him with confusion.

"Allen, you need not fear for the Order without you. We-...They had survived long before you came, and I'm sure they will survive long after you leave. But... it is a more pressing matter that you cannot sleep even in the peace of life," Bookman said, suddenly pulling tobacco and a pipe out of his pocket. He tamped it down and lit it with a match, puffing circles into the air.

"What do you mean?" Allen breathed.

Bookman looked at him sidelong, and he shook his head. The smoke wafted through the air as Bookman breathed out.

"We will be here a long while, Allen. I'm sure you have figured that," Bookman stated bluntly, and Allen hung his head. The young man's hands clenched on top of the bale, crunching straws. Bookman paid no mind, or seemed not to.

"Even in our old world, we would have had to adapt to the end of a war. And I strongly believe the end of the war was coming, Allen," Bookman told him.

The boy looked at him.

"You did?"

"I've seen enough wars. I know when the end approaches. Allen, you must make peace with the demons that are up here. The ones on the outside don't exist here, and one day they won't exist where we come from, either," Bookman said, tapping Allen's temple. "The nightmares may never go away, but you can stop shaking at every sharp noise, twitching at the slightest pop, or jumping at a clang in the kitchen. They're gone, Allen."

The young man stared out across the expanse.

"I'd never thought that I would one day... live in a world where... the Akuma didn't exist," Allen teased out of his heart. He looked down at his hands. One of them had taken down countless enemies, yet here there were no enemies to be had except for the ones that played at the edges of his conscious mind. It was true, what Bookman had said. He jumped at shadows and stiffened at the merest sound of ripping. Just the sound of popping bubblegum put him on edge, forcing him to tamp down the instinct to activate his arm.

"Get some sleep," Bookman said with a gentle puff of his pipe. "Tomorrow has more hay waiting for you."

Allen slipped off the bale of hay, and Bookman watched the young man walk back to the house. He shook his head, wondering what he was doing, counseling that stripling.

But it hadn't escaped his head either, that they now lived in a world without Akuma, a place... to be remade. Bookman stared a the ground with a heavy mind.

And he ignored the guilty part of him that almost wished he didn't have to leave for a world of suffering.

A/N: Eeeeey, I got another chapter out, finally! Sorry for the long, long wait. I didn't mean to lag, but what with all the things coming up, I thought it'd be good to get some writing in a little bit.

Big thanks to anyone who's decided to stick with this despite the erratic updates! I know it's a little disheartening. Anyhow, instead of me posting questions, I want you to ask questions instead! I'll answer questions best I can next chapter or so! Also, give me your comments on characters, thoughts on possible topics, and other stuff you wanna see! I'm having issues thinking of the differences between the late 19th century and the 21st, like morals and such, and comments would really help out!

I'll post when I can. God bless you, and keep reading!