Warnings: Rape, Language, Sex, Yaoi, Male/Male, non-con, possible OOCness, spoilers, no beta...blood, violence, mentions of sexual abuse,

Disclaimer: ...At this point, I really think it would be redundant of me to say I don't own D-gray man.

Please do not read if trigger.

I still have to baby sit. A lot. Or every day really. But next week I have more time to write - the more of you that review, the more likely I will be to stop trying to comprehend my Forensic Science class and write you a chapter.

Still kind of a heavy chapter...I tried - let me stress this - tired to lighten it up a bit...But over all, I'm satisfied with the chapter. Hope all of you will take a minute to review.


He had let Kanda go through that…that hell. That was the only word that described it. It was his fault – he should have sent out a search team, should have done something different, instead of just leaving Kanda there to rot.

But God, the chances…they'd been astronomical that Kanda would be alive. Even with his healing abilities and his skills and abilities Kanda should have been dead within a matter of days. Even without Kanda's healing abilities, the damage done to the man hadn't been minor. Kanda had limped and winced at even small movements for several days. It had disturbed Komui, to think about what sort of injuries had healed, before he'd gotten there.

Now…now that he knew what had happened he could understand…he could understand the limp.

He could understand Kanda's frantic demands not to be touched. The weight lose…refusal to eat…apparent insomnia. They were classic signs that he'd heard about when it happened to women…who would have guessed, that men suffered the same symptoms. But…it just….it was so strange, to think that Kanda…the man who everybody assumed was an untouchable cold hearted bastard…it was just strange to know.

Even though he'd known – suspected –before, it was different now. He understood it now.

It his fault; it was his, Komui's, fault.

He exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead. What the hell was he supposed to do?

This wasn't something that happened every day in the Order. It wasn't something that was reported…this wasn't something that was talked about.

Komui wasn't a psychologist; he was a scientist. There was a difference. He was there to help exorcists, to keep them safe. That's why he was he'd joined, to maximize his sister's safety, his sister and the Exorcist's whose lives he put in danger every day and night.

But how was he supposed to help the Exorcists – the people whose lives he tried to protect – if he didn't know how?


It was very, very late. Most of the Nurses had gone to bed and the few that remained to take care of the few injured Finders and himself were either in another room drinking coffee or had left for some other inexplicable reason. Or maybe they had decided that nobody was going to wake up and had slacked off for the night, wanting to get some sleep themselves.

Kanda didn't particularly care either way; as long as those bastards stayed the hell away from him. He wanted to wallow in his misery in silence without anybody giving him looks. Though he couldn't think it was somewhat stupid of them to leave him alone.

If they didn't want him going anywhere, why the hell didn't they watch him?

Whatever…he'd play the good patient so they would let him leave in the morning.

At least it looked like he was going to get his way, as everybody else in the infirmary was passed out in dreamland too. He was free to mope as he pleased. Mope and curse quietly under the rough sheets that the infirmary had.

Goddamn it, he was extremely frustrated.

Kanda felt like a fool – a fucking fool. He couldn't believe he'd let himself act like that. Like such a stupid idiot….letting all of those thoughts hit him like that just because the hospital had tied him down. How could he have let all those people see him in such a shameful state? God; why had God let him become so weak?

His eyes traced the ceiling with an almost pained look – he was without a doubt, one of the weakest men at the Order. No, he was the fucking weakest. Nobody else had to go through this shit – none of the other men had been taking advantage of like one of those stupid frilly women. He was a woman. No – he was worse than a woman. Woman didn't end up tied to a hospital bed and start yelling like a child. He wasn't a fucking Exorcist, he was a little girl. Nobody was going to tell him otherwise either, after that little episode either. He hated himself for acting like that.

He hated himself, for letting what had happened, happen.

He hated himself for everything.

He turned restlessly on the bed, onto his side so he ended up facing Allen. The idiot – true to his word had not let the nurses tie him back down. Nor had he moved from his spot – though the position Allen had originally been in had drastically changed.

He had to hold back a low growl of frustration. The British man could in no way be comfortable in the position he was currently in. Legs pulled up to his chest, feet resting against the armrest, head awkwardly wedged between the wall and his shoulder and his arm dangling off the edge of the chair.

Was the boy a contortionist or something? Kanda could bend in some pretty damn flexible positions, but like hell he could sleep like that.

Kanda exhaled….That Moyashi. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for the other man untying him – and keeping him untied for that matter – or just pissed off about it.

Goddamn Moyashi – if Kanda didn't know better, he'd think that the bastard was trying to mock him for being so fucking weak. Sleeping in a chair like that, as if he could protect Kanda. Kanda didn't fucking need protection!

Kanda exhaled…of course the Moyashi would think that he did though. That was his fault. He'd let the stupid Moyashi think he'd gone soft or something in the past few weeks. He growled.

Damn it all to hell, he'd show the fucking Moyashi he wasn't a Goddamn weakling. If it was the last thing he did, he'd show the beansprout…

Kanda growled again, glaring half-heartedly at Allen. As annoying as the idiot was, Kanda owed him. He owed him for keeping his mouth shut and for getting those nurses to keep him untied. And he owed the idiot money for the damn window.

It was very frustrating to owe somebody so much.

Kanda exhaled noisily, suddenly throwing off the blanket that somebody had covered his body with. To hell with this, he wasn't going to stay here when he couldn't sleep. He would do what he wanted to do. He was fine anyway he didn't need to be there.

He shivered lightly as his feet touched the ground. Resisting the urge to mentally cuss out everything in the universe, Kanda pulled the rub tighter around him, grumbling softly under his breath. He just couldn't get a break today. He kept quiet though, as he didn't want to wake everybody up and be screamed at to get back into bed.

He might have been weak but he wasn't just going to sit lay in bed all day like an invalid.

He sighed as he exited the door, leaning against the wall for a minute. What the hell was he supposed to do? His skin felt disgusting…however; Kanda didn't think it would go over too well if he felt the urge to drown himself again.

But did he care?

No, he didn't care! But he didn't want the crap he was sure to get from everybody if he tried again. Not that it was going to kill him. But no, he did not want that shit.

More accurately, he didn't want the stupid Moyashi having to pull those damn restraints off of him again. That had been embarrassing enough the first time. He didn't plan on a second time happening, damn it! He owed that British man enough.

No, he'd steal some rags from the kitchen and scrub himself down until he bled again; or something. Something that would help him fall into a deep sleep.

He sighed, starting to walk again. This wasn't fair damn it. Everything was so confusing. Everything would much nicer – clearer - if that stupid bastard hadn't raped him. He wouldn't have to look over his back…he wouldn't have tried to drown himself, the Moyashi wouldn't have had to help him and he wouldn't be wandering around like an idiot.

Everything felt so frustrating. He was starving but he couldn't eat without throwing up, he was exhausted but couldn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time, he was so fucking high strung and he just wanted to relax for a few hours – he wanted to be able to tolerate somebody touching him. He'd never been fond of people touching him, but he felt so frustrated that now it made his stomach churn. He wasn't even sure he wanted to be touched again, but he wanted to be able to handle it without memories of hands on flesh and golden eyes roving over his body.

He shuttered, disgusting…it was disgusting.

He exhaled – God was cruel. That was the only explanation. He was a cruel bastard who lived up in the sky, caused misery to everybody, killed off hundreds of people a day and had decided that he hated Kanda.

God had to hate Kanda. Why else, would he let Kanda live the hellish childhood he'd had? Why else would have driven Alma to the brink of madness? He could accept that God would let himself be raped – the way he acted, everything he did, he'd deserved it. But there was no fucking way he could understand why God would let Alma live the way he had, or die that way either.

God was a bastard, no doubt about it; if the bastard even existed.

Kanda just didn't know anymore, leaning against the door; the door to the chapel. He was so familiar with the place…familiar but not comforting. He'd spent every Sunday there, from the time he was 'born,' until he'd left for that mission several years ago. Why he went, he wasn't exactly sure…he was not at all found of going. It was just…a habit he supposed. He didn't believe – or maybe he did. He didn't know. In Kanda's opinion, if God did exist, he had a lot of explaining to do. He smirked slightly to himself as he dragged his feet to the chapel and taking a seat on one of the benches. An apostle that didn't know if there was a God; then we did he keep fighting for these idiots? It clearly wasn't getting him anywhere but in some other man's bed.

"You want to explain that one to me?" He growled up, to the cross with a bloodied and battered Jesus that hung up on the wall. "Well?" He demanded, almost hoping for some sort of answer.

Of course, he didn't get one.

Kanda exhaled as he received nothing but the gold-leafed Jesus staring back at him. He sighed, rolling his head back. "You're just as useless as the rest of them," He muttered to the figure, closing his eyes.

"That's blasphemy," Allen's soft and sleep ridden voice hit his ears. He'd heard the man walking out of the infirmary…though it had taken him a few seconds to wake up. Not matter the situation, Allen was a deep sleeper. "You're lucky it's only me," He told Kanda softly. Blasphemy was not taken well by most of the people in the Black Order. What did one expect? They weren't called Apostles and Exorcists for nothing.

"Che," was Kanda's reply to Allen. "No lightening," He pointed out. So, apparently, whatever God there currently was had decided to pity him and let him stand – sit – where he was without being electrocuted for his blasphemy.

Allen shrugged, looking semi-uncomfortable as he glanced up at the figure of Christ watching them. He shook his head – His Master Cross had certainly said a lot worse. But still, Mana had raised him as a catholic; he didn't really like to hear blasphemy. "I guess not…." He agreed reluctantly. He took a seat next to Kanda, though he did leave space between them. "You weren't supposed to leave the infirmary," he murmured softly to Kanda.

"Che"

"I don't suppose you came here to pray?" He asked Kanda.

"Tch, it's never helped before…." Kanda muttered. He'd begged God all those weeks ago when Tyki had first decided that Kanda was a pretty enough man to bed. Praying clearly didn't work.

Allen exhaled. "…Then why are you here?" He asked.

Kanda shrugged, why had he come here? "I felt like it."

Well, wasn't that just a typical answer? Allen sighed – he really shouldn't have been surprised that the man in front of him didn't want to talk about why he was there. He looked up at the statue again and sighed, bowing his head respectfully and clasping his hands.

Allen had only very, very rarely questioned God when he was younger. As far as he had been concerned, God had been nice enough to give him the circus, then Mana, friends and a home at the Black Order.

Now? Now he had some doubts. They tugged at the back of his mind, but he always pushed them far, far back to where he couldn't t dwell on them, or the things that made him doubt; even though he would rather like to explore his feelings that were considered so immoral.

The urge and desire to kiss another man and not women being at the top of the list.

Allen shook his head – no, no he was not going to cave into that feeling. He'd get lynched.

"I had questions," Allen's thoughts were interrupted by Kanda's blunt statement. "But he's useless," Kanda stared up at the statue, blue eyes furious, cold and – yet – still lacking the fire he'd grown used to seeing in Kanda's attitude and life.

"…I guess it is kind of useless to ask questions," Allen agreed softly. He'd certainly asked a lot of questions and he hadn't gotten any answers. Not yet anyway. The two sat quietly for a while, the only sound his and Kanda's breathing.

It was probably, the most peaceful the two had ever been together. No cursing, grabbing, fighting, arguing or name calling…just…quiet. It felt nice. It felt nice to Allen anyway. But – Allen glanced out of the corner of his eye at Kanda – the Japanese man didn't seem to be…uncomfortable – was that the word? – with the situation.

Nor did Kanda feel particularly uncomfortable. Not with the Moyashi sitting a couple of inches away from him. There was space…the idiot was being quiet. Why should he be uncomfortable? It wasn't like the British man next to him was going to rat him out to the Nurse….not if he knew what was good for him anyway.

Kanda sighed – Allen was an annoying man, but he at least knew how to behave. "You know that Komui is going to make me stay in your room for a while…." Allen's voice absolutely shattered Kanda's thoughts.

"What?" Kanda said voice low and wary. He. Did. Not. Need. A. Babysitter. He was not going to share his room with anybody. Including the Moyashi, no matter how well behaved he was!

"It's just for a few weeks…I'm not thrilled about it either, but…Komui thinks you need to be watched for a bit," Allen tried to phrase it carefully. He wasn't particularly 'thrilled,' about having to spend a few weeks sleeping in Kanda's room – Kanda didn't take change well at all…but really, it was a small price to pay to make sure Kanda didn't try and kill himself again.

"Che," Kanda stared down hatefully at the floor, "You think I'm weak," He snapped at Allen.

Allen exhaled, starting to place his hand on Kanda's shoulder, before stopping, not wanting Kanda to be made uncomfortable. "I didn't say that." He responded – he didn't really know if that's what he thought though. Physically, Allen knew Kanda was strong enough to take on nearly anything. Except now that he was starving himself, Allen wasn't sure that was true. Mentally? Allen wasn't really sure Kanda was handling himself very well…at least, not right now.

"You think it," Kanda grumbled and Allen sighed.

"BaKanda, can't you just shut up and enjoy the fact we weren't fighting?" Allen asked ignoring the fact he'd started the conversation.

Kanda grumbled something under his breath, turning his head to look at the opposite wall, letting out a heavy breath. So the Moyashi did think he was week….stupid sprout. Maybe it was a valid assumption, but it still hurt that the moyashi had developed such a low opinion of him.

He sighed, looking at the cross with Jesus again. The giant thing, it seemed to look down on him with such hard eyes…judging him. Kanda could only assume it was because God was judging him. He frowned again, finding his lips moving unconsciously, saying words he never really intended to say allowed, "God must find me disgusting."

Allen blinked in surprise. "Why do you say that?" He asked, staring up at where Kanda was looking.

"Don't you?" Kanda's voice was flat, "I've slept with another man. Don't you find it disgusting?" He asked. Disgusting, illegal, immoral, wrong – that's how people seemed to think of men who slept with men and women who slept with women. It would only make sense that Allen would think of him that way.

Allen was quiet for several minutes, thinking. Did he think Kanda was disgusting? It wasn't like Kanda had asked for it. He didn't think Kanda had enjoyed it either.

He'd heard Kanda screaming in pain from down the hall. He had tear tracks down Kanda's face…no, Kanda hadn't liked it.

But was it something that was looked down upon…it wasn't supposed to be something that happened. He wasn't really sure it was something that disturbed him though. Not the idea that Kanda wanted another man….

Yet, why did he feel his stomach churn every time he thought about seeing the Japanese man underneath Wisely? Just thinking about it made Allen want to do something stupid and rash. He wanted to do something somewhat violent – say, hunt down a Noah and leave them to be experimented on by Komui – after being extremely beaten up.

What was it that disturbed him about Kanda though….no, not even Kanda…what was it that made him feel so disgusted at the memory.

It wasn't the fact that Kanda had been on bottom like that screaming...it was….

…It was the fact that Kanda hadn't wanted it that was disgusting.

Allen stared up at the Statue of Jesus. That was disgusting. It was disgusting that Kanda – who had tried to kill him the first time he'd met and saved his ass on multiple missions – had to ask what Allen thought of him.

"No, I don't," Allen replied, after the minutes had ticked away and a very sour expression had developed on Kanda's face. He reached over and placed a hand on Kanda's shoulder wincing as he felt Kanda tense slightly. But he noticed that Kanda didn't try and rip off his arm.

"You should," Kanda muttered bluntly.

Allen exhaled slowly, "But I don't," He told Kanda, standing up. He looked at Kanda, before offering a hand – the one that wasn't shriveled and deformed. Though it had been months ago, he still remembered Kanda's reaction when he'd grabbed Kanda with his 'cursed,' hand. He still held it slightly off to the side, a little behind his back out of habit. Years of torture and name calling because of the hand stayed strong in his mind. "Come on. Before the Head Nurse finds out your gone. She'll try and tie you up again," Allen might have faced Akuma on a daily bases for years, but that woman was her own kind of demon.

Kanda snorted – that woman was fucking evil.

He stared at Allen's hand for a second, almost like it belonged to an alien. It…wasn't touching him. But it was there….did he need it?

Kanda scowled, pushing Allen's hand away.

"Don't fucking hide that hand from me like your embarrassed, Moyashi" he grunted. "You've seen worse," He said, grabbing Allen's cursed hand and pulling himself out of the seat and onto his feet. He took his hand back immediately.

If the little idiot had seen him getting raped, he could tolerate a little – a very little – touching.

And as long as the Moyashi behaved himself, Kanda would allow him to stay in his room…but only if he behaved himself.

And Kanda – he vowed – would not like it either.

Or at least, that's what he told himself; though it would be nice, not to have to get up, twelve times in the night, to make sure a certain bastard hadn't snuck into his room.


"You," Sheryl started to hack, covering his nose, "Smoke far too much!" He deemed. Tyki for his part ignored his brother, stubbing out his cigarette only to immediately light another. Sheryl groaned loudly as the smoke that already completely filled the compartment. He couldn't even see his brother's face with how many cigarettes Tyki had gone through in the past few minutes. "Dear God, put that thing out," Sheryl snapped at his brother. "I can't breathe!"

Tyki snorted and continued to smoke his cigarette. "No. I like them," he replied. He liked a lot of things; sex, cigarettes, cigars, gambling, drinking – whatever brought him pleasure for a moment was something that Tyki liked.

Why not? He was the Noah of Pleasure. "There is such a thing as too much of a good thing," Tyki exhaled slightly.

"I smoke when I'm nervous," He mumbled quietly.

Sheril sighed patiently, "You have no reason to be nervous," He told Tyki, using his calmest, most diplomatic and persuasive voice. Tyki did't particularly seem to care.

The Earl was going to murder him, if he found out about this.

It didn't matter that they were on the way to fix it – until it was fixed, Tyki was going to smoke. And if that meant his brother killed himself from coughing, so be it. He didn't care – the Earl did some pretty damn awful things, when he was upset.

Tyki knew first hand. He did not particularly want to be the cause of the fury of the Earl – bad enough he had to deal with him as often as he did. It wasn't like Tyki was some sort of masochist.

No way in hell, was he going to be on the receiving end of whatever 'punishment,' the Earl came up with, if the Earl found out how badly Tyki had screwed up. Hell screwed up didn't quite cover it.

Royally fucked up an Exorcist and himself was probably more like it. He groaned – still, it had been worth it, seeing the younger man writhe beneath him in both pain and pleasure. Hmm…maybe he wasn't a masochist, but a sadist?

Most definitely.

"Stop with the cigarette's brother darling," Sheril said, hacking loudly.

"Shut up, it's not like you haven't had a smoke before either," He reminded his brother. His brother had given him his first pack.

"I only smoke on occasion – as it should be," Sheril clicked his tongue, "It's unsightly for a noble to smoke more than necessary." He reminded his brother with a smirk – not that Tyki could see it. Everything was far too smoke for that.

Tyki sighed and reluctantly stubbed out the cigarette, "Happy?" He asked his brother. It was partially because he actually did care about his big brother and partly because he was starting to feel a bit light headed; never a good thing for somebody who had been smoking as long as he had.

"Very much, thank you," Sheril sighed in relief. He didn't smoke nearly as often as Tyki did – he didn't have quite the tolerance his little brother had when it came smoke. But he knew it was because his younger brother was nervous so he sighed reluctantly. "Don't be nervous," he said calmly, using the same tone he used whenever he was trying to 'prevent,' a war. "Nobody is going to find out." He reminded his little brother with a smile.

"Right…thank you by the way, Sheril," Tyki said. He really, really was happy that his brother had decided to come with him. He never felt like he got to see enough of his brother anymore. They were both busy men, between Sheril having his family and Tyki…well, doing what he did. Plus they had to go and fight Exorcists; it was all so draining.

"Of course, what are brother's for?" Sheril smiled at his brother again. He chuckled slightly, "Brother's help brother's get out of unfortunate messes they make." He laughed. "Besides, I've been helping you since you were little," Sheril almost giggled at the memory, of his awkward little brother, seven years old, stuck on top of a tree, too afraid to climb down.

He sighed – why did little brothers have to go and make such big messes?

Ah well…what were families for?


Nifty little Review box is down there: Use it.