#madarao is like yes i am the new defender of justice

[howardlinkedin]

Shelter - Part 14

Running title: Shelter Part 14 Summary: I just love happy endings, don’t you? Part 12: Here Part 13: Here

THE END.

shel·ter

ˈSHeltər/

noun a place giving temporary protection from bad weather or danger.

---

Life is full of storms. Both literal and metaphorical. A shelter can be the home one retreats to get dry from a sudden downpour. It can also be a place of safety after a terrible day, where comfort is found.

A home is a place where people reside, and are welcome. A home, incidentally, can easily be a shelter.

Shelter can be meeting the young woman who owned the repair shop, who was so inherently kind, that your heart couldn't help but flutter whenever you hear her voice.

It can be the greenhouse across the street, filled with beautiful and exotic fauna, ran by an eccentric, but not unkind man with a rather wobbly smile.

Shelter is the home for a young man who struggles with understanding the majority of the world and how it works, but they are endlessly supported by a father and brothers who were willing to guide him.

Or it’s said young man, who became the rock for another, who needed that extra push to become who they wanted to be.

It’s stepping out of the elevator, and seeing familiar faces who always greet you with warmth and welcome, while your brother becomes ecstatic at your presence.

For a lonely little boy, shelter was a clown who didn’t stop laughing. Shelter was the love the boy continued to feel long after his father left. The assurance that he would never be alone again.

---

At the recording studio, Allen took a calming breath. He could do this.

His eyes caught Link on the other side of the sound room, and smiled bright. He definitely could.

Lavi, at the recording booth, gave him the signal. “Right-o Allen! Ready in 3, 2, 1!”

Allen finally, finally sang his song. It was about time.

---

I could never find the right way to tell you

Have you noticed I've been gone?

'Cause I left behind the home that you made me

But I will carry it along.

---

When the song officially released on mainstream radio, it quickly hit the top five charts. When Allen got his cut of the profits, Lenalee looked over his shoulder at the check and whistled. “If this keeps up, you’ll be set for life!” She declared.

From the dining room, Cross snorted. “He was set for life the moment he took out that damned swear jar of his.” He made a point by stuffing it with a quarter without prompting. “Cussing is bad manners Cross.” Allen retorted. “What are you going to do with all that money anyway?” Lenalee asked, scratching Timcampy behind the ears. The little dog wiggled with joy. Allen looked thoughtful as Atuuda demanded to be picked up with a meow. He answered as he hefted the large fluffy feline into his arms. “I was thinking about a tattoo. For my arm.” The index finger of said red arm booped the cat on her pink nose. Atuuda chirped and swatted her tail in his face.

While Lenalee looked excited about the idea, his guardian squawked from the other room. “TATTOO?” “Cross it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

--- Marian Cross was less irritated about his kid wanting a tattoo - because he honestly did not give a single steaming hot damn if he did, and more so that all these years, he was basically being conned by a child to fund his need for ink. Mafia or not, Allen Walker would have fit right in if he had wanted.

---

And it's a long way forward, so trust in me

I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me.

--- Across the city, at the Central Building, Madarao held appointment with Head General Hevlaska Karma. He stood stiff and at attention in his suit. Hevlaska raised her brows at the young gentleman, “You do know, that there is a selection process I have in place, for choosing my intern from the University Mister Madarao.” It wasn’t a question. All the same, Madarao gave his assent. “Yes. I am aware General. Regardless of your choosing myself as your candidate, I also believe what I have compiled will be of great help for you and your police force.”  He set a neat, and ordered stack of files on her desk. They were all dated, and color coated by tabs. The leader of Central’s largest and strongest police firm steeped her hands together, assessing first the files then back to the young man who had been requesting for her ear for the past month. “And how will this assist me Mister Madarao?”

So he told her. ---

At eighteen, Allen graduated high school. Arm in arm with his best friend, he and Lenalee marched off the stage, diploma in hand. “Congratulations Miss Lee.”

She laughed. “Congratulations Mister Walker.” At the floor, they spotted their family and friends respectively. Alma and Kanda, who had graduated the year prior, were there. Alma was waving them down rather enthusiastically, hand holding Kanda’s. In Kanda’s free arm, he had Timcampy, who seemed content at being held like a limpet. “Congratulations!!” Alma hollers, and hugged them both. The new graduates laughed. In the bleachers, Cross puffed smoke from his cigarette and glared balefully at the man beside him. “Why are you here?” He outright demanded. Neah stuck his tongue out at the redhead. “Did you forget that Allen is my cute nephew? Have you gotten senile in your old age?” “I am not old you goddamned-”

“Ah-ha! Language! There’s innocent ears everywhere.” Chided the Campbell, wagging his finger as though Cross were a child to be scolded. Cross snorted. “They’re all teenagers. Since when are teenagers innocent?” Behind them, Road pressed her heeled shoe into Neah’s head. “Will you two shush! I’m trying to get good audio with the video and no one wanted to hear you old man bantering!” “Road you’re practically my age.” Said Neah, ignoring her foot on his head. She decided to kick him then. Cross pointed and laughed. --- Link presented Allen with a bouquet assortment of colorful flowers. “Crowley had arranged them. He attempted to explain their meaning to me, but...I was unable to completely follow.” Link frowned, as though admitting he was unable to outright memorize something was a slight against himself. “Regardless, I was assured they are positive in their meaning.” Taking the offered present, Allen was certain he was smiling like an idiot at that moment. (Later, Kanda would state this as a fact, quite bluntly too). “Best boyfriend ever.” The blonde cleared his throat, Allen notice that his ears were red. Lenalee looked between the two with an “o” expression and took a respectful few steps back. She had a feeling this was going to be a rather important moment. “Not boyfriend.” Link started, rather awkwardly. “But, fiance, if you’ll have me.” He gestured to the top of the bouquet. Behind them, Alma squealed outright into their hands, and began shaking Kanda’s arm. Kanda looked unimpressed with Link, because he didn’t understand why the had to be so flustered about it. Everyone knew it was a solid Yes.

With wide silver eyes, Allen finally spotted the velvet box set on the flowers. He looked between the box, then Link in rapid succession. At first his mouth gaped open, as though he was going to speak, then he would snap it closed. Instead he hugged the bouquet to his chest and grabbed Link by the ear with his free hand and gave away both of their firsts kisses right then and there.

In the bleachers, Neah screamed a rather loud “WHAT?!” While Road let out a yell of excitement. Cross sat back and looked smug. You go kid. Lenalee was taking pictures with her phone.

Pulling back, Link looked rather dazed. Eyes wide and blinking slowly, his brain caught up with the moment. “I-”

Allen kissed him again. “!!”

---- “You never actually said yes.” “Oh my gosh Link shut up and get back to kissing me.” Link shut up and went back to kissing him. ---

Allen Walker discovered that he really, really, really, really liked kissing.

--- And I know, I'm not alone, you'll be watching over us

Until you're gone. --- Next, Howard Link, twenty-three, graduated college with high marks and his degree. Allen celebrated with him that night with a song and homemade chocolate cake. Eventually, his uncle called him in for his own congratulations. “I’m very proud of you Link.” Lvellie praised, looking every bit smug. Link nodded. “Thank you Uncle.” “It just so happens that there is an open position here.” His uncle preened, waiting for Link to show any sign of ascension to the idea. Arching an eyebrow, Link inquired. “Position?” “Well yes! You will be working for you dear uncle, won’t you?” Really now! Thought Lvellie. As though he wouldn’t hire his own flesh and blood. After a pause to gather his thoughts, Howard Link takes a step forward, and presents his uncle with his degree. “I am sorry uncle but I believe you are under the impression that I wish to work for you.” Lvellie stared openly at the embossed, framed paper, uncomprehending. “You see, where you believed me furthering my education with criminal justice, I actually gained my degree in business management, along with a minor in culinary.” “C-culinary?!” The Commissioner choked. “I have spoken with Mother and Father and they have granted me access to part of my inheritance so that I may open a bakery.” Lvellie looked white with disbelief. “But-” “I am sorry that your plans for me were not what I wanted.” Link was honestly anything but sorry; regardless it seemed to be the only thing he could say on the matter. Tucking the frame under his arm, Link bid his Uncle good day and started for the door. “Oh.” He paused and turned around to address his uncle once again. Lvellie was still gaping like a fish out of water. “Also, In half a year’s time, I will be binding myself to Allen Walker. Please look for the invitation, should you still be free and out of prison at that time.” With that, Howard Link left the the office. “Prison?!”

--- When I'm older, I'll be silent beside you

I know words won't be enough

And they won't need to know the names or our faces

But they will carry on for us.

---

A month later, Malcolm C. Lvellie was arrested and marched out of the Precinct for withholding and tampering of evidence for the Guilty Murders, therefore placing him in suspicion for working with the Cardinal. The Cardinal who, ironically (and still uncertain how and by whom) was found murdered. It would later be revealed that Lvellie himself knew all along who the murder was, but held the information away for himself, hoping to find the right moment to reveal it all. His goal was to manipulate the circumstances enough that Head General Hevlaska Karma’s ability to lead Central would be scrutinized enough, that Malcolm would be chosen to replace her. Standing besides Head General Karma was Madarao, newly accepted intern, who watched passively as the man was taken away by police car. He decided that he would call Lavi, and inform him of his new location. The hyper red head would certainly be ecstatic at having himself closer to home.  Lavi needn't to fear over any more mafia nonsense now that Madarao had his foot in the door. 

Colonel Yeager crossed his arms, and huffed. “Good riddance. I never liked that man.” Claude Nyne watched Cross walk back into the Precinct and gave her own affirmation. “You’re not the only one.” Inside, Marian Cross kicked down Malcolm C. Lvellie’s ex-office door, and flipped the desk over. Socalo, the curious and nosey bastard, poked his head in. “What the shit?” Marian tore a framed important something or other off the wall and threw it across the room, into the other wall. It shattered. “Either you join me or fuck off Winters.” Ever the one to enjoy chaos rather than run from is, Socalo joined in on defacing the office.

--- Soon, the Precinct found itself under a much needed overhaul of staff. The majority of the forensics and tech department was left virtually untouched, but some officers had been let go or left due to further investigations of Lvellie’s misdirections as Commissioner. Froi Tiedoll walked into the now bard Commissioner office, looking surprised at the dents and holes in the walls. “Oh my.” He hoped whatever happened in here was therapeutic enough. “Welcome out of retirement, new Commissioner Tiedoll.” The man hummed and smiled with his eyes over at Colonel Nyne. “Thank you Colonel. I do believe I feel a good change in the wind.” The policewoman nodded, and turned to address her own new intern. “Tokusa, help the Commissioner get proper office equipment.” She ordered. Newly graduated Tokusa bolted upright, babbling. “Yes sir! Ma’am! Madam.” “No.” “Yes….Colonel?” “Better. Now hup to!” Tokusa turned heel to find out where he can get a desk and chairs. --- Tiedoll hung a picture of his sons on the wall, looking proud. One his desk was a framed photo of Kanda and Alma, dressed in white.

--- And it's a long way forward, so trust in me

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me.

--- “You don’t have to call to wake me up every morning you damned brat.” Colonel Marian Cross grouched into his phone. He was currently waiting in line at a coffee shop, hoping to fuel his need for liquid energy. Ever since Allen went on his tour, he still took time to call Cross and bother his ass about his morning routines. He swore his kid got a sick enjoyment out of it. “Are you at that cafe again? Cross I thought you got a new coffee maker.” His kid ignored his previous statement and chose to instead nag him on other things. “Correction, you got me a new coffee maker and it busted.” Just two more orders and Cross would have the excuse to hang up on his child. It was rude after all to talk on the phone while ordering.

“How can you bust a Keurig?” “Correction, it busted on its own.” He grumbled. “Riiiight.” Thank the Lord it was his turn to order. “Look, kid I gotta go. Fuck off and nag that husband of yours instead.” He heard Allen snort on the other line. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Bye Cross. Talk to you tomorrow.” The Colonel found himself grinning, despite his bravado. He was fond of the little shit, and will always be fond. “Whatever, leave me alone you brat.” Allen laughed before hanging up. His barista looked at him, an amused look in her dark eyes. “Brat?” Marian huffed. “My kid. He’s a brat.” And that’s all he would rather say on the matter. It was hard to bring up that yes, he has an adult child, and said child happened to be Allen Fucking Walker, singing sensation. Last time he let it slip out, he had nuisances at his door for a month. He strung his order to the (very pretty, but Cross always noticed pretty things so this wasn’t too surprising) barista. After ringing up his order, she introduced herself. “Anita.” Cross looked from her hand to her (still very pretty) face, flummoxed. “What.”

She laughed, and Cross noted that her laugh was also very pretty. “This is the part where you give me your name and I start to flirt with you.” “Oh.” Oh.

---

Years later, Allen Walker, 24, walked through the streets of Paris. He had just slipped away from Lenalee that morning after doing an interview about his upcoming concert in the city. His best friend and sole security would most definitely be lecturing his ear off later over this, but sometimes he needed time to himself. With a green beanie hiding his very noticeable white hair, and thick sunglasses that he hoped were dark enough to keep his anonymity, Allen wandered aimlessly. If someone had told him as a kid back in the circus, that he would be a singer songwriter, whose name was practically known by everyone, he would have been disbelieving.

Then he would try and pick their pockets. He digressed. There was also the whole, married and in love thing. Child him wouldn't have even been able to comprehend.

He was about to wander to a crepe stand, his stomach thinking for him with anticipation, when he heard it. The sound was high, and distressed, and young. It had all the potential to reach lower notes, but at the moment it’s owner was rather stuck on piping out the high tones. Allen would recognize the sound for what it was anywhere, no matter what notes it played. Allen Walker followed the sound of a distressed pipe organ, away from the crepe stand and into an alley between the buildings. It was still the middle of the day, so the ally itself wasn’t in anyway dark or ominous. Along with the organ, Allen heard tell tale sounds of a foot kicking a trash can. “PWEEEEEEEEE!!!”

Oh, now that was a very distinct cry, Allen thought. He never heard someone actually produce their sound verbally before. Kicking the trash can in the alley was a young boy, Allen guess about nine, maybe ten. He had wild brown hair that looked like he had tried to dye the ends with blue kool-aid and wore an orange jumper with frayed jeans. “I’m so mad I’m so mad!” was the boys mantra. “Why are you mad?” Allen asked, kneeling next to the angry boy. Said boy was startled and made a wild swing at Allen head. “AAAAH!!”

--- After whopping Allen, the kid ran off. Only a little winded, Allen followed after, undeterred.

He felt a vague sense of deja vu, and grinned.

“Hey wait!” He called after. ---

“Why won’t you leave me alone huh?!” Demanded the angry boy.   Allen shrugged. “I don’t want to.” The boy looked at Allen like he was the most bizarre person he’d ever met. Which, may very well be true. Allen would admit that he was indeed, very odd.  Link also took joy at pointing it out to him. Regularly.

“Well get lost!” The boy stomped his foot. “I don’t need some weirdo following me around!” “How about you tell me why you’re so mad, and maaaaybe I’ll leave you alone.” Allen weedled. The kid looked unimpressed at this. “Maybe.” he repeated. “Yeah. Maybe.” They both had a stare down. Allen more amused while the boy simply refused to back down from the impromptu staring contest. Eventually, there was no winner, as the boy’s stomach used this moment to growl rather loudly. Allen’s own stomach felt sympathy. “Are you hungry?” The boy, who looked like wanted to cry again, but was holding it back, only glowered.

---

Howard Link, 28, came back to the rented suite he was staying at with his husband, arms full of bags of fresh bread and boxes of pastries. He had been taking his time in Paris to sample and buy all the baked goods he could, and seeing if he could garner new recipes. It was a very riveting experience for him. He was also certain that Allen had been enjoying all the fresh eats he kept being with him. “Welcome back!” Allen called. “We’re in the kitchen.” “We?” Link asked. Was Lee here as well?

The blonde made his way into the suite’s kitchen, and instantly noticed the boy making headway into the pumpkin pie Link baked that morning. Sitting beside him was Allen, who waved his fingers cheerfully at his husband, his own plate sparse save for the pie crumbs left behind. “I see we have a guest.” Link lead. Allen patted the boy on the back. “Yeah! This is Timothy. Say hi Tim.” “He’wwowoooo!” The boy, now Timothy greeted best he could with his mouthful. Link nodded, and set down the baked goods in his arms at the counter. He went over and held out his hand. “Hello Timothy, I am Link. It’s a pleasure.” ---

And I know, I'm not alone,

you'll be watching over us.

Until...