A/N - Might be a oneshot, might be continued. This part is set before KttK, probably just a couple hundred years after the Architect's disappearance. Lots of angst involving Monday's Dusk (old)... and um. I'm really not sure how to summarize this. XD Enjoy, hopefully.

The sound of beating wings momentarily drowned out some of the clamor in the Lower Atrium. A few Denizens looked up indifferently, saw the dark-clothed and raven-winged visitor, and returned to their work. Monday's Dusk landed, his black wings folding behind his back and vanishing. He strode through the crowd, who quickly stepped aside to make way for him. The superior Denizen nodded slightly to the others, but his face remained serious and impassive, his mind not on his work.

It has been six months now… but I mustn't think of that. It is over.

Turning down narrow, winding streets, Dusk stopped at several points, speaking to several Denizens and exchanging paperwork. Black boots clicking precisely on the cobblestones, he left a momentary still in his wake as Denizens looked up nervously, afraid that they would be caught doing something they shouldn't, and looked down just as quickly again as they identified the visitor.

Sighing and turning abruptly, he began questioning another Denizen, perhaps more sharply than was necessary, determined to keep his mind on the task at hand. "You seem distracted, sir," said the Denizen, looking up anxiously at the taller man.

"No, no," said Dusk, running a hand through his dark hair and looking down at the other Denizen as if he had forgotten about his presence. "Continue your good work. Everything is going fine." He turned and left, leaving the other staring curiously after him.

But it isn't fine! No, not in the least… the House has never been this way… but what can I do to help it? What can I do, to stop this headlong fall?

Abruptly Dusk winced and stopped, putting his head in his hands and leaning against one of the buildings as the crowd swept by.

Memories. Ever since that day, they haven't stopped tormenting me.

The images came to him unbidden, and he turned quickly into a side alley so that the Denizens of the Lower House would not see his shaking shoulders, the tears that flowed unchecked from his dark gray eyes. Dawn.

I promised her.

I promised I would protect her.

I promised I would always be there for her.

I tried… and I failed her. I failed us all.

Oh, Dawn. I need you now, my love, more than ever. I did not think your old master Tuesday would become what he is now; nor did I believe it was possible for Monday to leave things as they are today.

How could this happen? Why did it happen?

Is there life after death? Will I never see you again? You deserve more than Nothing… Dawn… come back. Come back to me! Please!

There was no response to Dusk's anguished mental cry. With another deep breath he emerged from the alley, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. His dark wings burst from his back, and the Denizens around him moved back to allow him room for takeoff.

I will be strong. For her.

He had made up his mind.

If Grim Tuesday could use his gift with Nothing to do such a terrible thing to his own executives… the Trustees are truly out of their minds.

They broke the Will. I will do all in my power to restore it.

I swear I will make things right again.

Dusk launched himself into the sky, the air around him stirring from the great downdrafts produced by his powerful wingbeats. Denizens clutched at the papers they held and at the hats they wore until the wind died down.

As the bustling town returned to normal, a slender female clerk walked silently through the crowd. She looked young, no older than a nineteen-year-old human, though in the House appearances almost always deceived.

Reaching out, she caught one of the sleek black feathers that Dusk had shed, looking first at it and then at the far-off ceiling as she saw the Denizen in her mind's eye.

It was not his handsome features that caught her attention; but the look in his eyes had captured her. It was not the height and bearing of a superior Denizen that made him stand out; but it was the look of sorrow, longing, and quiet determination in his gaze that made her heart go out to him.

And then he was gone, leaving Sasha standing in the busy street holding a single black feather with her skirt and hair whipped by the wind from his departure.