Shades of Gray, a d.gray-man fanfic

Title: Shades of Gray

Synopsis: "Allen, black and white does not exist. In reality, all things are just shades of gray." The lessons that his foster father once taught Allen still ring true in his head, even as there is another sharing it. Slight Allen/Lenalee.

Rating: T

A/N: I liked this one, though it pains me to write Mana's name (I'm not a fan…). Oh well. Also, I'm sorry that I don't know much about art. Later it's mentioned, and I have no idea if what I'm talking about is right, and I'm far too tired to go look it up (it's finals week, and I'm writing this as a quick break from my studying). Well, that's it. Relax, read and please review.

Disclaimer: I don't own -Man because if I did then they'd spend a lot less time on Kanda's past and a lot more on the Fourteenth's.

The paint that Mana had used on his face during his performances had always caught Allen's eye as a child. In his suitcases Mana had lots of paint; he would dress differently for each circus with new designs on his face in different colors. It had always intrigued Allen, this paint. When Mana would prepare himself and Allen for show time Allen would watch in awe at the expertise that Mana had with the paintbrushes and colors. When the brush was in Mana's hands, it never failed to make what Allen considered to be a masterpiece.

One day Mana told Allen that he would be out for a few hours; he had some old friends staying in the town nearby that he wanted to meet up with. Though Allen begged to accompany his guardian on his visits, Mana made him stay, assuring him that it would be dull and Allen would soon get bored if he came along. What Mana failed to realize was that young boys tended to get bored if they were left alone as well.

When Mana returned from his meeting with his old 'friend', he found Allen sobbing in their tent. Running over to his adopted child with worry, he asked him what was wrong. Tearful Allen lifted up a canister of white paint, or what should have been white paint, to his guardian.

"I got the black in it. Now it's gray." Allen managed to choke out in between sobs. "Please don't be angry; I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!"

Laughing, Mana plucked the canister out of Allen's hands to inspect it. The kid had mixed up the black pretty good; it was a most appealing shade of gray. Setting it down on the table, he turned his attention over to Allen, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "Don't worry, Allen. Gray is more realistic than black or white." Seeing the look of confusion on the child's face, Mana couldn't help but to laugh once again. Putting an arm around the shoulders of Allen and crouching down to be at the same height, he smiled. "Black and white are so definite; people put boarders and constrictions on them." A flash of a memory of the person whom he had once cared more about than anyone else paused in his brain. "People associate black with evil and white with good, though, in reality, they're both just gray in the end."

"Mana, I don't understand." Allen said, the remnants of the tears he had been shedding still on his face, though no longer openly crying, knowing that he had Mana's forgiveness. "What are you talking about?"

The child was ignorant of his circumstances; Mana knew that. Allen was also ignorant of the circumstances surrounding his foster father, as well. For the moment, it was best that he did not know anything. He was a good kid; a sweet kid and the things that would happen to him in the future were quite a pity. Still, this was a lesson that he hoped that one day Allen would understand; his life would revolve around these words.

"Allen, black and white does not exist." Still not quite understanding, the boy nodded. "In reality all things are gray; never forget that." Allen opened his mouth to argue, but Mana grabbed his arm playfully. "Now we must go get to town to get some more paint!" Smiling at the thought of an adventure without any punishment for his actions, Allen followed Mana, and the two of them ran out of the tent and, holding hands, raced each other into the village.

It had been surprising when Lenalee wanted to spend her day off with him in an art gallery. Her reasoning was that he had never been to one and she could show him all of the good paintings and make sure that he understood what all the art meant. Though Allen didn't mind, he was still confused. It seemed like sort of a meaningless thing to do with one of their rare breaks, but Lenalee insisted, saying that she would not rest until he went to some museum.

Of course, Allen relented, which is how he found himself standing in front of a giant painting of a woman holding a ferret. Whatever meaning in this painting was lost to him; to Allen it really was just a heavy woman in expensive clothing and too much make-up holding a rodent. Lenalee, however, found it, and all of the other paintings in the building, to be incredibly interesting. Excitedly she would run from painting to painting, pointing out interesting things to Allen with an eager voice, happy to share her knowledge with him.

"… of a countess and her pet. The two of them both died in a house fire right after she did the sitting for this painting, so the artist decided to donate it to the museum." There was a pause as she inspected the painting, looking through each detail and undoubtedly noticing all sorts of thing that Allen would not have. "She seems really unhappy. Look at the lines around her mouth. They probably got there from her frowning so much." Just as Lenalee said, there were lines around the woman's mouth, which gave her a look of unhappiness… or mild constipation. "And the ferret…" For a moment Lenalee let out a giggle, causing a few other of the museum's patrons to give her a dirty look. When she spoke again her voice was lowered to a whisper. "Is just a bit creepy, right, Allen?"

Smiling, Allen nodded and the two of them walked to the next painting, this one of a man with a strange moustache in a ruffled shirt holding some sort of golden staff. Somehow the severe look on his face reminded Allen of his master, and a pang of something somewhat resembling sadness came over him as he remembered the times that he had seen Timcanpy gravitating towards that cursed room.

Cross… Cross? I know Cross.

The damn voice in his head asked him; trying to ignore the increasingly persistent presence of what he now knew was the Fourteenth. "This one's artist is really famous for doing paintings like this; apparently he has over a hundred portraits of famous Spaniards to his name." Intensely Lenalee read the small, framed information card that was presented next to the painting.

Cross did not have paintings done… Cross wanted to be a secret. You've got a secret too, Allen. You have many secrets. They're my secrets too. Cross knew that.

"This man was very wealthy, but was apparently involved in some scandal. Something having to do with his second wife's daughter by first marriage." Turning her eyes from the information card back to the painting she inspected it for another moment. "There's something rather cruel about his eyes, I think."

As do I; he does not seem like a very kind fellow.

"I get the feeling that he was probably hiding a lot from the people around him."

Just like you, Allen.

Turning to Allen, she flashed him with a smile. Weakly, he returned it, not knowing what to say or do. It would worry her if he told her that he was hearing strange voices inside of his head, but the increasing presence of the Fourteenth was almost frightening. Yet, he didn't want to end this day with her. They had precious little time together and he wanted to make the best of it. "I guess so, but there's something in his demeanor that says that there's something more than that." He paused to look at the painting once again. "There's a lot of different layers to him; there's no clear cut answer to who he is just by looking at the painting."

Just like how no one would guess that you're talking to more than one person right now, my Allen. So many secrets do you keep; just as this man kept them from his family you keep them from the girl who you care most abo-

"He's just shades of gray. You may think that he's a villain at first glance, but there's something underneath that."

Lenalee's smile suddenly grew brighter; the way that she looked was almost angelic. "Allen-kun, I'm so happy that you seem to like this!" Invigorated with a new burst of energy, she grabbed his hand and did not let go once they found themselves at the next painting. "I was so worried that you weren't going to enjoy yourself here, but you really seem to understand it, even better than I do!" She laughed, her fingers still intertwined with his, and he smiled along with her.

"It's all stuff that I learned in the past; there's no thing clear cut about any piece of art." He paused and there was a laugh from inside of his head. That was rather annoying, he had to admit, but then Allen stopped for a moment. Mana was a good person; Mana truly loved him, and he also loved the Fourteenth as well. Maybe there was more to the Fourteenth that met the eye as well.

You're correct, my little Allen. There's so much that you don't know; so much that you're ignorant of.

While he thought and the Fourteenth invaded those thoughts, Lenalee spoke excitedly as she animatedly went from painting to painting. Happily, Allen nodded his head and added a remark here and there, but was not completely there. A gray area formed in his mind, and while he stood there lying in so many ways, he thought that perhaps he was entering a place where he could no longer be considered to be in the 'white' spectrum; his soul was clearly in the 'gray' now.

Fin