Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-Man.

Blood & Ink

They could smell it long before they saw the flames licking up the walls of the building, sparks flying into the night sky. The sweet and smokey scent of wood and ancient texts burning as the fire ravaged the Central Library which stood at the center of the town. They had traveled a little out of their way just to make a stop at the old building. According to one of their informants, some material possibly pertaining to the Innocence had been located there.

But apparently the Earl had made it there before them.

"No..." said Lavi as he stared at the skeleton of the old library. He took a half dozen steps towards it before the heat became too much. He looked down as he flinched away from the heat and noticed the blackened spine of a book crumbling beneath his foot. Slowly he bent down and picked it up carefully, but as he tried to dust off the cover to find the title the poor book finally gave in, falling away to nothing in his hands.

"Why... all that history... what did he have to gain from such a loss?"

"What point will there be to a recorded history if there will be no one left to learn it? Knowledge is useless if there is no one left to use it."

Lavi's eyes widened as he turned to look at who had spoken such profound words. Allen stood beside him, the fire light making the shadows dance across his features. It lent the boy a surreal look that was only heightened by the gear-eye that continued to whir as it searched for more akuma in the vicinity.

Lavi turned back to watch the fire consume the building, his mind wrapping around a truth he had not wanted to see...

What use would his log of Hidden History serve if in the end it too would be burned to ash with the rest of the world?

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The room was quiet as Lavi closed the door behind him. Komui had mentioned that Panda-jii had left for matters concerning the Bookmen a couple days ago, and for once he was grateful for the Old Man's absence.

Slowly Lavi sank to the floor with his back against the door. He cradled his head as thoughts continued to swirl and storm inside him, feelings from a heart that should not exist being added to the mix as well. It had taken some time for Lavi to understand what exactly it was that he was feeling. It had been so long since he had felt this sort of turmoil that he hadn't known how to place it at first--

This was confusion. For the first time in years, he was confused.

In two sentences Allen Walker had reduced everything Bookman Jr. knew and stood for to rubble. After the happenings in the Ark, he had begun to question whether or not he would really be able to break away from this log like he had all the others in the past. He had sufficiently assimilated and repressed the part of his personality that would've had him destroy everything Lavi had come to know and cherish in the name of the Bookman calling, but a part of it still lingered. It would take a lot more than an inner battle in a dreamscape to undo all those years of Bookman training.

But this new dilemma that faced him was not a matter of the heart, but one of the mind. Allen's truth was so logical it scared him. Not once since he'd joining the Order had he thought of the possibility that the exorcists might lose the war-- and what eh consequences of that would be. Sure, he knew such an event would be catastrophic to mankind, but he'd never linked the fate of the Hidden Histories to that of the general populace. In the past, the two had never been connected. The history of the world was written with the blood of the guilty and the innocent, but it remained forever unbiased and impersonal to those who gave it life. But this war was on a whole different level than any he'd ever read of or witnessed before-- the stakes were higher and the consequences fell not on a few, but everyone of the human race. And though Bookmen liked to think of themselves as separate from mankind, in the end everyone shed the same blood.

And if they stood by and allowed the exorcists to lose, the blood of Bookmen too would be used to paint upon the Earl's canvas... and the Hidden Histories would be no more.

What use then would their existence have served? All the sacrifices made... they would have all been in vain.

"Run! They're coming!"

"Run away! Start running and never stop!"

Lavi growled as he punched the ground beneath him. He threw his head back against the wall as memories assaulted him.

"How would you like to become a Bookman, boy?"

Those words had saved his life. Everything changed the day Bookman brought him under his wing and into the fold. He'd always been a bright child and his ability to remember everything he saw (even without the aid of this other eye) was remarkable. That coupled with his lack of familial strings and general apathy towards mankind had been the clincher and he was soon taken on as an apprentice. And really, it had been nothing to him to throw aside his name and his past, just as in the future it would be nothing to throw away each subsequent persona. Really, even at the age of 6 he'd had the makings to be a remarkable Bookman.

But even so... occasionally he felt a twinge of sadness and guilt... his name had been all he had left of her... and he had thrown it away.

"Humans are vile and cruel! They're greedy and selfish creatures, all of them! All they care about is what they can get for themselves!"

At one time, he had truly believed that. And he still did to some extent. After bearing witness to so many stupid, cruel and pointless wars and conflicts between humans, how could he not? By the time he'd come to the Order when he was 16 he had already been through 48 aliases, each tied to a moment in mankind's violent and illustrious history. And not once in all that time had he seen a redeeming act made by those who fought. Moments of self-sacrifice by innocent victims and bystanders, sure... But really, when you have nothing else to lose, what other choice do you have?

But now... The Order was filled with such people. In fact, sometimes he wondered if Innocence went out of its way to recruit masochists.

Lenalee...

Allen...

If he had to choose between their blood or the ink of his histories, what would he choose now? The importance of the Histories had always outweighed that of any one mere mortal. And really, how could the life of the two children be expected to compare to the weight of millions of deaths in human history?

But if they along with the rest of the Order died, leaving the world to the whims of the Earl...

The ink would become useless. The Histories would be no more.

Lavi clenched his fists in his hair, clutching his head as his thoughts spun in a downward spiral, not at all aided by the thundering within his forbidden heart.

Thanks for reading,

~Air