A/N: Hm. So I came up with this story while reading one of those Allen-reunites-with-his-parents stories I like so much (when done half-decently). See, I know there's a lot of theorizing going on about where Allen was before he was with the circus. Most common theories I see are with abusive birth parents, with an orphanage, and that he was always with the circus... Me, I've always thought he spent the entire time as a street kid. It was the only reason I could think of for him to have had no name, unless the people truly were that awful, and that seems unlikely.

But, of course, that leaves the issue of how he survived his first few years on the streets without dying or exposure, starvation, or thirst. So, keeping in mind that Allen always seems to end up with the most disturbing solution possible, I decided on this.

Title: Cold Days

Author: liketolaugh

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Child abandonment

Summary: There he was, still tucked against the same old crate, wrapped in the same old white blanket, with that same old crimson arm that made him shiver in terror. The demon child had been there every day for the past four months, and still, it never died. In a time when Allen is too young to take care of himself, Crown Clown takes care of both of them.

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.

Every day.

Every day, Jonathan walked through the same alley and paused at the same spot, staring down at the same, motionless, half-wrapped infant, and it stared up at him with wide grey eyes, and he considered taking it home.

The first few times, Jonathan nearly had taken it - him - it - home. But the arm. Its arm.

Oh, god. Just looking at the thing… It made his knees feel weak, the breath leaving his lungs, and he started feeling shaky and achy like he was coming off the flu, breath coming quick and frightened, and he just… he couldn't, he couldn't.

That arm was the work of the devil, and as time wore on, he feared the child attached to it more and more.

Because the child never died.

He'd passed through this way on the way home every day since as long as he'd been working, but he hadn't used to pause. The baby hadn't always been there, though sometimes it seemed like it had.

He entered that alley now, passed the long-empty beer barrel, past the pile of crates, and stopped right after the last one to turn and look at the small bundle nestled against the last wood crate, badly wrapped in a dirty white blanket, pitifully thin, and topped with a dust of dirt-red hair. Watching him with half-lidded silver-moon eyes, jaded and weary and sad. It opened its mouth and Jonathan flinched, cold swamping over him.

"Ooh," it cooed softly. "Oohh. Ahhhh. Bayy, bayy."

It had been there every day for the past four months. It hadn't ever moved. If he hadn't watched its eyes follow him, if he hadn't watched it breathe, heard it speak, he would have believed it dead.

"Dahhh, juuuuu…" the baby called, motionless, curled close in on itself. "Kaka pyoooh."

It would probably be better off.

Hell. Jonathan shuddered. It had snowed a few times - he'd almost broken and taken it then, devil arm or no devil arm - worst come to worst, he could always cut it off, he would rationalize, and then he would look at it and he would shudder and he couldn't ever do it - and he was sure it never got any food, he'd never seen anyone else around it, though he'd seen bruises mysteriously appear on what little of the thing… child... baby… thing he could see.

But the child never died.

He bent down and leaned close to it, inspecting it carefully, holding his breath. It just stared up at him, eyes tired but wider now, meeting his gaze point for point, and cooed quietly,

"Tooooh. Maa, daah. Noooh."

He shuddered and stood up abruptly, turning away to leave.

Devil child.

There was no other explanation. No, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the little demon, and he never would.

But he knew he'd still come back the next day. He had to know if it had died yet.

Baby watched, tired and hurting, as the big man left. Why did he always leave? Why did he look at Baby like that? It made Baby sad. It was cold here. He felt weird and hollow. It hurt. And he only ever saw the man. The strange man and the bad men and Crown.

Why did the big man leave? Why did the bad men hurt him? Why did no one listen? Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhywhywhywhy...

Baby whimpered as the air grew colder and the place grew darker, and he squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering softly. It hurt. The cold hurt, the hollow hurt, the sad hurt, it hurt. It hurt. It was scary and it hurt. Baby started to cry.

"Shh. Shh, baby, shh, shh."

Baby opened its eyes again and looked up, sniffling and crying, face scrunched up.

Crown smiled softly down at Baby, and he reached down and picked Baby up, rocking him gently, side to side, murmuring soothingly.

"Shh, shh. It'll be alright, baby, you'll see. Someday it'll all be better. Someday it'll be warm, and you'll be able to walk and to talk, and someday you'll be able to find food and eat, and someday you'll be able to fight for yourself. It'll be alright, baby. Shh, shh."

Baby sniffled, staring up at Crown, tears still pouring down its thin face, still shaking with sobs that made him feel more tired and more hollow and more sad.

"Shh, shh. I love you, baby, and I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you while you're small and hungry, and when you're hurting or sad. Shh, shh. Don't you worry, baby. Someday you'll grow up, and then we'll work together, but for now, don't you worry. I'll take care of you, baby, I promise. Shh, shh."

Crown had white hair and a silver mask where the big man had eyes, and he wore a big white cloak, and he picked Allen up in black, warm-cold arms that were gentle and kind, and he spoke quietly and softly, and Baby sniffled, snuggling against Crown unhappily, whimpering and crying quietly still, but calming down now.

The world where Crown lived was black, but not scary black, like the world Outside right now. It was empty black and Baby didn't mind. Crown made it okay.

"Shh, baby," Crown continued, green glow coming from his arms and sinking into Baby. Baby slowly stopped crying as the hollow feeling went away and the cold went away and the sad went away. "Shh, shh, baby. It'll be alright. You'll see. You'll grow up, and you'll be big and strong, and we'll win this war, and then everything will be alright."

Baby had stopped crying now, but it was still sniffling, tears streaming down its face, whimpering softly. "Doooh. Taah, tahh, wahhhh. Ooohh."

"And someday," Crown continued, "you'll have people you love, and people who love you, and I'll always love you, too, baby. Shh, shh. Someday there'll be food, and you'll be warm in ways you never knew you could be. Shh. Someday there will be food, and warmth, and shelter, and people you'd give up all three of those things for. I promise, baby. Shh, shh… go to sleep, baby, I'll take care of you. Go to sleep."

Baby's eyes slowly closed, and Crown smiled softly, fondly, down at him as he fell asleep. He put Baby down, and the world dissolved, and so did Crown. Baby was once again curled against the crate, wrapped in a dirty white blanket, which wrapped tighter around him, the green glow fading away and the glow of the cross on his exposed crimson hand dying, too.

"It'll be alright, baby," Crown whispered as he released Baby back into the real world. "Shh, shh."

Once, I was sad.

So, just to make things clearer, Crown Clown is basically using the energy inherent in the Innocence to keep Allen alive. Like, kind of how parasitic Innocence users give their Innocence energy by eating a lot, only in reverse. Hey, Allen breaks all the rules anyway. What's one more? Thanks for reading and please review!