Disclaimer: D. Gray man is not mine. The wonderful manga-ka, Hoshino Katsura owns it.

Author's note: This is my first fic, so please don't flame. I accept constructive criticism, so feel free to say any suggestions. By the way, this fic was inspired by the fact that Hoshino sensei said that Allen was drawn after a previous character of hers, a female one in the manga "Zone."
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1. Dream

Bedroom, 5:20 AM

She couldn't remember much of anything prior to being taken in by Mana; humans by nature tended to forget painful things, to avoid going insane, and for her that was true. Her young mind had unconsciously shut out horrific memories and emotions of the bygone, replacing them with the happy, dulled blankness of a forgotten past, to ease the life of a frightened and lonely child with no fault but that which connected at her shoulder and was embedded with a cross. The only reminder she had was that defective arm that had been the cause of all her troubles, from the time she was cast out because of it. That treacherous arm was her greatest strength, and her greatest weakness-there, her innocence was located.

But what is frightens her is not what she had forgotten, but had remembered. In dreams it would haunt her, through nights of cold sweat, twisted blankets and strangled screams of emotional pain. These nights would only end in muffled sobs as the sun rises in the east. Over and over it haunts her, the dreams. Inextricable. Unexplainable. Inescapable.

It had moved of its own accord, with her feeble will unable to stop it, her young fragile body frozen in shock and terror of the implications of what she would do, but could not stop. But there was no forgetting how that clawed, scaly red hand had broken free of her knitted glove and ripped through Mana.

Mana, the Akuma.

Mana, her father.

"You made me into an Akuma…" The rage was not hidden in his cracked voice then, as it had screamed loud and terrifying for her to hear. But it simply masked a deeper emotion, one that surpassed it in strength and cut her heart even more deeply, by far. Disappointment.

And then suddenly, a blinding light, cutting with all the force, the pain, and the intensity of a lightning bolt through her left eye, cursing her. The angst ensues, the guilt she feels as the tears flow down her pale cheeks, not so much from the pain of the eye as that which she feels for he whom she had wronged. He whom cursed her and opened up a terrifying new world of things that no one else could see.

And then, after that, the dream ends, leaving her panting and aching within, salty moistness on her pillow and lingering upon her face. But nobody needs to know of her pain. To everyone else, she is happy, carefree, and the brightness within the Black Church. She looks at the clock on the windowsill which her bed faces and blanches, for the workday is about to begin, and it is almost time to put her naïve, artificial façade back on over still hurting emotional wounds. Not wanting to put up with angry remarks about tardiness from a certain cold youth with whom she would be working with, the ivory-haired girl that was known as the cursed boy-exorcist Allen Walker goes into the adjoining bathroom to prepare for a whole new day.

A church somewhere in England, 6:00 AM

Silence usually was a golden thing, given to the invisible beauty of nothingness; in its simplicity, it quelled turmoiling emotions and appropriately created lulls in which one may digest the recently past happenings or a particular piece of information in conversations-something especially useful when talking to Komui. But it also made voids, within which one would beg to disappear in, so awkward it would have been, this accursedly uneasy quietness.

It had been ominous, how deadened the old abandoned church had been from the moment the three exorcists had entered. As Kanda had remarked in his usual harsh tone, it was simply a disgrace to religion. Their footsteps prompted soft creaks of protest from the weak and rotting wood floors, and rats scurried away from their human presence for the safeties of their little nests in the arches supporting the roof. The church itself gave off a forbidding air, even in the stages of its degeneration, being very old, dating back to the Byzantine era, even, as the motifs and tiles on the wall clearly showed. There was a chill in the very air; it crept under Allen's long black cloak and made the fine light hairs on her skin stand up in anticipation of the fight that would no doubt come.

She was right. It did, and the akuma sprang out of the rubble that was the pitiful remains of the church benches and attacked, in a shower of stars.

The bindings upon her growing breasts hurt her as she nimbly leapt out of the way; keeping up a male appearance was quite a pain, literally. A split second later, several large star-shaped bullets cut into where she had been standing before, ripping through the floor and sending up huge splinters. Allen muttered softly under her breath and ignored the sharp pain, preferring to keep her eyes where they were needed in the fight. To her left, the agile Rinali executed a perfect spinning kick onto an Akuma's head, knocking it clean off with the innocence-propelled force of her dark boots. She flashed Allen a smile, one reserved especially for her alone.

"One down. Allen-kun, how's it going?"

The said young exorcist flicked her a thumbs up, grinning cockily in reassurance. "I took care of two. They're only level 1 akuma anyhow, wonder why all three of us were needed here. It isn't as if there's that much to exterminate, sinc-"

It was too soon for victory to be proclaimed, it seemed, since more, this time larger akuma erupted out of the rubble that covered the floor of the mansion they were in. Allen eyed them nervously, taking in their round, distended shapes and projecting guns with chagrin. "Heh, still level one?" She offered lamely to Rinali, who shrugged, and dove into the fray.

Allen advanced, and extended her arm. "Poor souls." She whispered, her quiet voice drowned out by the sounds of battle, and the rapid firing of stars. "I shall put you out of your misery."

"There's three more, Allen, hurry!"

"CROSS-GRAVE!" she shouted, extending her enlargened, scaly red hand. Simultaneously, God's wrath struck down their unnatural enemies mercilessly, shocks of bright white light forming the angular shapes of long, large crosses darting down from the sky, cleaving through the akuma- shell, weaponry, bound soul and all. The crosses impaled the akuma, driving them through the weakened wood floor with a smashing force that flung her against the wall.

Allen watched in horror, in a half daze, as the gaping hole in the floor grew larger, ripping through the boards and throwing them up in huge rotting chunks. The technique had done much more damage to the church than she had anticipated, and by the looks of it, was more than capable of bringing it down to its bare foundation.

"Allen!" Rinali's shriek was lost to the sound of the falling masonry of the ceiling as it too gave way to the lack of support from the destroyed pillars and arches, and the young white-haired exorcist whipped her head around to see her friend disappear under a large shower of ceiling beams and dust.

"Dammit, Rinali!" Allen painfully crawled to her feet, only to feel the steely cold muzzle of a gun pressed hard to the back of her neck, at the nape where her hairline ended. "Oops."

Needless to say, while she was one to be focused on protecting others, Allen was not the most capable of people when it came to watching her back, due to an almost complete lack of concern for her own safety. One could call it selflessness, and others could have argued that it was stupidity, as a dead person was a person rendered entirely unable to protect anyone else. Either way, Allen did not care, for she was caught at gunpoint, at point-blank range. Her arm lay useless in all its dangerous innocence-invoked form by her side, unable to wreak havoc for the fear of being shot. Grimacing, she braced herself for the incoming bullet that would shatter her skull, knowing that of all things, there was no ally to depend on to rescue her.

The irony was completely laughable to her. The thought was jeering and taunting within the depths of her mind, and Allen was reminded of how she was merely an insignificant person in the world, for all she had tried to do, to redeem herself for making an akuma. In the end, it all boiled down to redemption, for upon her was the burden of the cross to put the akuma to their ease. Not easily replaceable, but still someone whom little would weep for. Just as she had tried to save as much as she could, there was however none to save her. Absolutely no one to save her. How could she save others, if she could not even save herself? Again, she was a small child in front of a gravestone, crying for her daddy to come and pick her up.

It was only the sound of a loud, squelching splitting and the sudden, sharp metallic humming of a katana that brought her to her senses, and surprisingly the gun spastically jerked away from her head, even as the akuma fell through the floor. Wide-eyed, Allen barely comprehended herself being tugged away from the gaping hole in the tiles by a rough hold on her upper arm.

"Too late for him. And just what were you doing with your guard down like that!" the black-haired exorcist whom had killed the akuma roared angrily in her face, a throbbing vein on his temple.

"Ehh…" And Allen was unable to think of an excuse, under the smoldering glare. Still stunned by her near brush with death, and the feeling of being helplessly abandoned and useless. The worst was the coldness that had for an instant frozen her in a sad state of despair, at the knowledge that few actually cared for her. Unloved, hated even, by this cold, foul-mouthed exorcist, by Mana, by herself-the lattermost for her complete weakness. Allen offered up a sheepish smile, a meaningless one that her mouth automatically curved into, after many years of practice. "I'm sorry. Really."

Sheathing mugen, Kanda simply scowled at her apology, and turned away, his lips settling into a firm tight line. His piercing eyes swept over the destruction that cross-grave, accompanied with the attacks of akuma, had done to the chapel. "Everything about you is annoying, beansprout. Where's Rinali?"

The younger exorcist's face immediately shifted to a horrified expression, as she recalled the said girl's cry for her to help her. "The ceiling fell on her!"