Jail Birds (D.Gray-Man FanFic)

Upon Arrival

Allen stepped off the old, gray, rusted prison bus and onto the hard, cracked ground. The light from the bright, late afternoon sun momentarily blinding him before two guards began pushing him towards the front gates of the prison.

His small, black t-shirt had immediately begun soaking up the suns hot rays, doing nothing to cool him down after the blazing hot and lonely bus ride. His throat was dry and parched, the humidity high, and his clothing drenched in his sweat.

Two more guards stood at the front gates, and one of them began patting Allen down as the other examined his transportation information and prison registry with the officers delivering him. Allen's long, damp, white hair stuck to his face, his wrists chaffed from the handcuffs that had been on since that morning, and his patience was running thin.

His trial had been only yesterday. He'd been accused of attempting to murder his adoptive father and legal guardian, Marian Cross, and just the thought of the bastard made Allen want to knock someone's teeth out.

Ever since Mana, Allen's first adoptive father, died in a car accident, Allen was tossed from family to family, orphanage to orphanage until he landed in the hands of Cross. Allen had taught himself how to cheat at cards so that he could make some money during the times he was stuck with a bad family or in a neglectful orphanage and Cross, seeing only the 1500 dollar monthly cheque for adopting Allen and the money he could make off the boys talent, decided to adopt the estranged boy and he had been leaving his debts to him ever since.

Allen had been trying to organize Cross's debts, looking for loopholes in the few loan contracts, when Cross had burst in the door, drunk as usual.

He had startled Allen causing him to knock over a small stack of organized papers and making his patience wear thinner, "damn it," Allen had whispered under his breath, before dropping out of his chair and to his knees to gather the papers.

Allen had already dealt with having to deliver payments to three different debt collectors that day, one of them scolding him for being stupid with his money, and the other two threatening him with his life if he didn't keep the payments coming. Allen had, had enough of dealing with debt collectors, being threatened, and stealing or working like a slave to pay off Crosses debts, so when Cross had drunkenly stumbled into the room and dropped another 2,700 dollars in debt onto the pile that was on kitchen counter, Allen finally snapped.

"FOR GOD'S SAKES CROSS!" Allen had yelled up at him from the floor, "I AM SICK AND TIRED OF DEALING WITH YOUR DEBTS!!" Allen had stood and grabbed the papers off the table, throwing them into a messy pile at Cross's drunken feet, "WHY AM I LEFT TO CLEAN UP YOUR MESS??!!"

Cross had looked down at the papers that sat at his feet, his fogged mind slowly taking in Allen's words before he'd looked back up at Allen, anger shining clearly in his eyes. "You-you little,...ungrateful, shit!" Cross slurred drunkenly at Allen, "I-I saved your skinny ass From That Orphanage! You Should Be GRATEFUL YOUR NOT OUT ON THE STREET!" Cross's voice had risen with each word until he was screaming at the top of his lungs, his speech steadying as his tone had elevated.

"AT LEAST I GOT TO KEEP THE MONEY I MADE!" Allen shot back, "I DIDN'T HAVE TO GIVE IT TO SOME DUMB, RED HEADED OAF'S DEBT COLLECTORS!!"

Allen had to quickly duck out of the way as Cross hurled Timcanpy at his head. The cat landing on the counter top, and sliding across it until his back softly hit the wall that the table was pushed against.

"YOU DEPRESSED LITTLE BRAT!" Cross had spit back as he had hurled the cat, "YOU DON'T DESERVE THE LIFE I GAVE YOU!"

"LIFE?! WHAT LIFE?!" Allen had half yelled, half choked at Cross, tears were building in his eyes and he'd refused to let them fall, "YOU MEAN MY WORKING EVERY DAY, DAY IN AND DAY OUT, TO PAY YOUR DEBTS?!" He could still remember the feeling of anger, building in the pit of his stomach as he'd yelled at Cross, but that's where everything had stopped.

The last thing Allen remembered about their fight was a few police officers ripping him off of Cross. He could still see Cross lying there, fear and surprise in his eyes, a small kitchen knife buried deeply into his side, and his face bloodied and bruised. The memory made him smirk, 'the bastard got what he deserved.'

A rough push on Allen's shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and one of the guards from the front gate began pushing him towards the prison, the guards that transported him following closely behind.

'God damn Cross, that bastard!' Allen thought to himself as he went over yesterday's trial in his head. Cross had been on the witness stand sobbing, playing the innocent one, claiming that Allen had attacked him out of the blue, and of course the jury believed Cross's story, not that Allen's appearance had helped his case. During most of the trial he could hear the jury whispering about his white hair, and the scar that ran from his cheek up over his eyelid ending with a small shape the resembled a pentagram above his eyebrow. He was glad he'd worn a long sleeved dress shirt to cover up his red veiny arm, and a glove on his left hand to hide the mutilated skin. He didn't want to imagine what they'd say about that. It took the jury barely 30 minutes to come to the verdict that Allen was guilty, and they gave him that night -under a watchful eye- to change and prepare for his departure to The Black Order Institution for Punishment and Corrections.

A guard snapping his fingers in front of Allen's face brought him out of his thoughts, and once he reacted a concrete gray colored jumpsuit was shoved into his chest. Some guards and Allen had made their way through the prison and to his cell without him noticing, he had been far too deep in his memories of the past few days. He stood at the end of hall D on the third floor, surrounded by rows of cells, a guard holding a clipboard motioned towards a nearby cell and the guard beside him moved to open it.

"Allen Walker right?" the guard with the clipboard asked as Allen stepped into the small cell, he nodded his head in reply, "The warden would like to meet you, someone will come get you when she's ready so be in your uniform by then...and bring the clothes you wore in with you."

"She?" Allen questioned.

He was ignored as the man with the clipboard left, and the guard who'd opened the door slid it shut.

He looked Allen up and down, "good luck with your cellmate, try not to piss him off to much, he's got a short temper."

"C-Cellmate?"

Allen's stuttered question went unanswered once again as the guard shook his head in pity for the boy and walked away. A shiver of fear ran down his back.

'Shit...with my luck he'll be a sadistic rapist.'