A/N: Hello Readers! I am alive, hurray! *Ducks beneath thrown books. I am ridiculously sorry about my - how long has it been? I could go on about the very many excuses in my arsenal, but to put it plainly: life has sucked. Just sucked. And it has kept me from doing anything and everything. I just want to give a shout out to all those that reviewed, I think I missed a few or something so that I apologize for. And a HUGH shout out to eXtraNIo who sent me a message that told me to fight. It reminded me that I had people who actually liked this fanfic (guyz are crazy!) so I respond to him: yes! I am back and fighting and thank you! Hope you like it everyone!


Chapter Four: Searching for Clues

Eyes, purple and glowing in the flat darkness. An intense gaze that refused to let go of him. And then teeth, all thirty two, all razor sharp, bared in a smile that threatened to stretch off the face that was slowly coming into focus. Brown hair, slithering towards him like coiled snakes. Hissing... smiling...

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Ah!" Oz sprung up and let out two cries of terror: one for the rude awakening, and another for the face looming over him that had followed him out of his nightmare. He jerked forward, off the tall chaise lounge and fell flat on his face on the hard floor.

Wow, he thought, rubbing his forehead. That was definitely not the greatest waking up of my life. He got up, irritated, forced his heart rate to steady and managed to retain some dignity as he stared with discontent at a far more discontented-looking Alice. She had her arms crossed and her face scrunched in annoyance but now coupled with amusement.

"Smooth."

"Yeah sorry about that. I just saw your face and... and got... scared, forgive me."

This earned him a hard smack. He cursed under his breath. "Hey, what happened to sleep? Aren't you tired?"

"I'm fine."

Oz looked skeptical but let it go. Maybe it was better for her to keep blazing through the day. She'd be out quicker, more importantly sooner. He sunk back into the couch, folding his arms under his head and grinned. "Want to cuddle?"

He was rewarded with an abhorred expression.

"Get up before I tip the couch over," she threatened dangerously.

Oz considered this. The couch was pretty heavy, not helped by his added weight. But something told him it wasn't worth the risk. "I should have gone to a bed in the first place. By the way, how did you find me?"

He'd managed to sneak away from Gil and Alice to a fairly concealed drawing room, tucked away on the first floor. It was usually a safe escape – until now of course.

"Easy. All I had to do was follow the scent of jerk and it led me right to you," she answered.

"Congrats. Your one-liners are getting better each time. Eventually one of them might actually sting." Oz said with a smirk. But behind it he couldn't help but feel slightly concerned. All pretenses of safety no longer seemed to apply to his house. First it gets broken in to – twice – and within a few hours of each other, and now he couldn't even win at hide-and-seek with a girl who'd never been there before until today.

She glared at him. "Get out of here and start searching."

Oz sighed sullenly. Shortly after Break had been escorted out of the building, Alice and Gilbert had immediately gotten started on finding information as they had been assigned. Given his father's absence, it was a lucky and convenient opportunity for them to search the manor. But Oz saw it less as luck and more as not being able to sleep, which is why he'd snuck away.

"Oh yeah, that was Gil's idea wasn't it?" he said. "Remind me to get him a cat – for his wonderful idea." Very stupid idea really, Oz thought resentfully. He knew this place as well as he did and had to know there was nothing. He brushed past Alice back into the corridor, planning on how best to escape and locate the nearest discreet bedroom he could lose consciousness in.

"Hey! Unfortunately – we're working together on this," Alice said coming up behind him. "So start pulling your weight."

"Oh I have no problem pulling my weight when I have to. But in this case there's no point." Maybe I can lose her on the second floor.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Believe me, if my dear father left anything regarding the reasons for our painful pairing, he wouldn't just leave it out for us to find. Especially in random bookshelves. End of story. Now can I please sleep?" His headache was returning.

"No! You don't know if he hid something beneath a kitchen tile but this will be the only time we could ever have to search – and you're going to help!"

He glared at the stubborn girl staring at him menacingly. He rolled his eyes and she seemed took it as a sign of surrender. Holding onto his arm, she pulled him along, telling him she was finding a place where he could do something.

"Where's Gilbert anyway?" Oz asked, trying not to get too irritated that he was being dragged away by a very un-cute girl.

"Actually being useful," she answered, stopping at a hall on the second floor. She picked a random door and it took Oz a moment to register which room she was entering.

"Hey don't –"

Too late. Alice pushed inside and paused.


"This is your room?"

It wasn't the random objects that had given it away, but the Oz, painted with bright pink paint on the bed frame. A little heart was painted in red next to it. She crouched down and traced it with her fingers; the little shape felt so out of place in this room.

She couldn't help but imagine the number of girls who'd been in here, pulled in by a head of golden hair and lustful green eyes, only to be abandoned the next morning. It disgusted her yet the irony of the heart made her laugh. It would have been more fitting to be broken in two.

"Aw, that's adorable," she said with as much mocking sarcasm as she could muster.

"My sister's wonderful artwork," he answered.

His sister. Alice had never met any of the Vessalius children – until just yesterday of course. But that was only one, and she'd already pre-decided she disliked him. The other two were still in school. She wondered what she was like. Was she like her brother? What a scary thought that was. Another Oz. Yet maybe she was like Allys, definitely the kind of girl to paint her name with a heart into her bed. But one look at the blonde-haired asshole by the doorway brushed off that idea. There was no way a sister of his was like Allys.

And now curiosity took over and she was examining the most out-of-character objects that lined the drawers. Little dolls, weird masks and cards; most from his siblings, many more from more girls than she could keep track of with messages ranging from what a good time they'd had to asking when they could see him again.

Sickening. They felt more like little trophies that were meant to boast his conquests.

She'd only gotten through half the room when she was interrupted. His manservant mumbled something she couldn't be bothered to listen to and only caught the last question.

"...May I ask why you seem to be so interested in my stuff?" he said.

Alice narrowed her eyes at a far-too flowery vase with a little tag that read: Love you Onii-chan! and put it down because it felt too happy. "I've always wanted to see what the room of my manservant looked like," she said.

"Surprised?"

"Impressed actually. It's a lot cleaner than I expected." Alice tried not to blush when she imagined what she really was expecting.

To her annoyance, he leaned back cockily against the door and a smirk plastered on his face. "Don't worry; the only thing the maids have to do is clean the bed. And they're very good at changing the sheets daily," he said.

It took a moment for what he said to click in. And when it did, she wrinkled her nose in disgust in took and automatic step away from the bed.

"Oh, and by the way," he continued with a sneer, "If you wanted to check out my room, you could have just asked. I'd have no problem bringing you h –"

That did it. Grasping the corner of a pillow hard in her left hand, and mustering all her indignation, she flung it with all her might at that dumb face she hated.


Whack!

Oz's cry was muffled by a pillow colliding hard with his face. He rubbed his nose tenderly, unable to fathom how much it had hurt, like he really had been punched.

"Did you just throw a pillow at me?"

His answer was another pillow, this time hitting his chest. He huffed. Were his pillows always this hard or was it because the thrower was ridiculously strong? He suspected the latter.

"Look. Can you just –"

Whack!

Alice laughed. Or cackled.

Oz gritted his teeth and looked at the number of pillow left on his bed. There were at least a dozen of various sizes. Why the hell do I have so many pillows? He thought, dodging another one aimed for his head. Surely there weren't this many in the other rooms?

After narrowly missing one by his right shoulder, a single consuming thought entered his head. Something on the lines of: Game on.

He avoided the next throw, grabbed two pillows at his feet and dived behind a tall couch. Each time Alice threw one he quickly ducked under cover and snatched it. Once he'd collected a good supply, he opened fire. His first throw was a fail, ending with Alice catching it almost lazily out of the air. She smirked.

"Is that really all you've got?"

Oz grinded his teeth together, this time aiming for the spot he knew she would dodge. The sound of collision never sounded so sweet.

The room became a battlefield. Alice on the far end had the bed and coffee table which she had knocked over on its side. Oz had the couch and two matching arm chairs on either side. A small square pillow flew above him, hitting an object behind him. It crashed to the floor in an array of colorful shards.

It was the vase. Oops, sorry Ada.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

Gilbert stood at the doorway, gazing in bewilderment at the room that probably looked like a post-tornado zone: the broken pieces of glass, the upturned furniture, a dozen and more pillows everywhere – one lodged in Alice's hand, ready to be released, another in Oz's, ready to block it.

Oz grinned brightly. "Hey Gil. Don't mind us. We're just having a pillow fight."


Alice watched wearily as Seaweed Head had drunk in the room; his eyes traveling from the pillows, to the chairs, to the servants and finally to her, where they narrowed. "What did you do?"

"E – Excuse?" Alice must have heard wrong. This guy was definitely not accusing her.

"You did something," he stated. "You had to have down something."

"Why you little –" She flung the pillow in her hand straight at him. Caught by surprise, he jerked his arm up defensively a second too late and with the other, he pulled it up and fired. There was a loud bang and a crash. The air was filled with feathers and glass. Alice raised her arms around her face to protect them from the spray of shards as the window behind her broke apart. She cursed as bits cut her skin.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"What's wrong with me? You're the one who threw the damn pillow you crazy girl," he retorted, but still looked slightly shaken.

"Crazy? I'm not the one shooting at people randomly!"

"Well I'm not the one who tries to kill someone by dropping them in the middle of a forest!"

"I'm not the one not able to aim properly."

"Just give me a moment and I can show you just how well I can aim."

Alice was inching dangerously close to him. She could almost make out the individual strands of his gross seaweed-like hair. She was going to punch him just like she did his precious master.

"Hey!"

An arm came between them and pushed her back. "Gil cool it," he snapped and then addressed Alice. "It really doesn't take much to set you off does it?"

She readied herself for a biting comeback when another, older and shaken voice interrupted her. A middle-aged woman with her hair in the tightest bun possible had entered the doorway and was gaping at them in bewilderment. "Y – Young Master, I heard gunfire and came immediately. Is everything alright?"

"Never better," her manservant answered pleasantly. "Just a little mess. Clean it up."

The maid curtsied but looked apprehensive as she stepped inside.

"Let's get out of here," a hiss came into Alice's ear. "And for god's sake, put your gun away Gil."

Alice was ready to hiss back, saying that she gave her servant the orders but he was already turned and heading out into the hall. That and she caught the eye of the maid who diverted her weary eyes immediately and made an effort to look incredibly interested in her work. Why was everyone looking at her like that?

She left with a little "humph," and followed the retreating company grudgingly, down the hall and into another room. There were two couches facing each other and separated by a coffee table. She made sure to take the seat farthest away from the seaweed-haired one.

They sat in awkward silence for what felt like too long, all the energy having drained from them when her green-eyed cohort finally chirped with annoying sarcasm: "Well, this plan is going rather well isn't it? So far we've found out that my sister's a very good artist, we should never have pillow fights and that if we stay here any longer, we're probably going to destroy this house. But then again, did you find anything Gil?"

He was only given a small grunt in reply.

The plan. Alice had completely forgotten about that. She still felt it was prudent that they don't pass up this chance, but she no longer had the vigor to check every room anymore. "Isn't there anyplace that has anything useful?" She refused to believe that there wasn't and that her manservant was holding out on her.

To her surprise, he frowned and seemed to contemplate something before exchanging a look with his servant who in turn scrunched his nose in concern.

"Oz... are you sure?"

"What? What's going on?" Alice demanded. She hated being out of the loop.

He shook his head and addressed her again. "There is one place," he said.

Her suspicions soared as the mood grew heavy and he led them through a number of corridors and a few stairs upwards. Seaweed Head was sneaking glances at his master who kept his eyes trained forward and emotionless. Alice didn't know what was going on, but if they didn't tell her soon...

They stopped at a door on the third floor; it looked like any of the other doors in the mansion, except that it was secluded. But they didn't enter right away. Instead, her manservant stood there, his face contorting in a greater effort to keep it blank. "My father's office," he stated bluntly.

And then Alice was transported – through time, years ago, hidden behind a statue of silver armor and staring at a very similar wooden door. She saw her father disappear into it a million times before and into a space she was never allowed. What was inside? What could the room hold that it was given more attention than his family? Than herself? Even when her father left he never closed the door. Which was worse. Often temptation took over and she couldn't recall how many times she'd held that doorknob until her knuckles were bone white, never actually turning it. How could she? When the thought of what was inside sometimes frightened her more than her father himself?

And now here in the present; was this how he felt – her manservant? Surely the man with the cold eyes couldn't have been too warm to his son, especially since he ended up like this. That, and something flicked across his eyes that Alice swore was fear.

No. She scolded herself. She was imagining it. Because there was absolutely no way that she shared anything in common with a Vessalius, and especially not this Vessalius.

So why was there a knot forming in her stomach?


Oz extended his arm to reach for the doorknob but his resolve left him immediately the moment he touched the cold brass. He wasn't fond of the looks being given to him on both sides: Gil, who seemed worried that he might faint or something, and Alice – why did she look sorry for him? Why did she look like she was seeing herself in the same position?

It pissed him off.

A voice yelled at him in his head; he had already suspected that this would become a reality, just not so soon. Oh just do it!

And he did. And inside, he forced himself to walk around, show that it didn't faze him in the slightest. But it did, more than he had imagined.

There was nothing. A desk, a chair, a lamp, two bookshelves and a carpet. Not a single painting, even the desk was bare. Cold and empty – just like his father. Oz had expected a number of things, stacks of alcohol maybe, secret elicit photos. But not this. They would have been welcome. Because it would have meant that there'd be more reason for him to stay in here as much as he did and not with his children.

"Are you okay? Oz," Gilbert whispered to him.

"Peachy," he answered back with too much bite. "So now that we're here, stop wasting time and get started searching."

He refused to look at either of them and they left him alone. He was on the search for something himself. A picture. A letter. A piece of a memory from long ago. Any thing that was tied to his mother. Because Oz knew that out of everything in the world, she was someone his father had loved without a doubt. Surely he couldn't be so heartless as to not to have a single bit of her here?

He gulped and gritted his teeth as he shifted through the bookshelf.

Surely he had to be human?


Alice didn't like it. It was too quiet. Her manservant was being moody; palpable tension seemed to be emitting from his golden-covered head, Seaweed Head was off being awkward and alone in the corner, probably scolding himself for not knowing what to do, and she was left to search the desk. She pulled out one drawer. Just some boring looking files. She slammed it back too hard but no one turned. It made her hands ball into fists.

And there, a gold-plated engraved pen, just ostentatious and gaudy enough to fit someone with their head ready to burst with hot air. It would do. Not thinking twice, she grabbed it and flicked it, hitting her manservant square on the back of his head.

"Shit! What's you're problem?" he snapped.

"You're my manservant, so you follow my orders. And I order you to start being annoying!" she proclaimed proudly.

"What?" His face pulled together in exasperation. "Did you hit your head on something?"

"You heard me!"

"...Alright? And what's with the manservant crap? I have a name you know? Oz. Oz Vessalius. I'll even let you call me senpai instead of sama, how's that?

Alice made a face. "The first time I ever give you an honorific will be when we're not engaged. How about that?"

His eyebrow cocked up. "Is that a promise?"

She threw another pen at him.

This made him grumble something offending and turn his back towards her again, but it had the effect Alice wanted. The mood lightened instantly and she allowed herself a small self-satisfied grin and got back to work. Most of the files were about Pandora and didn't look like they should have really been there. Obviously Zai Vessalius wasn't expecting any visitors. Alice flipped over them lazily.

This'll be Seaweed Head's job, she decided.

It was at the final drawer she came to that made her stop. She'd opened it just slightly to see a small red mark, and pulling it all the way revealed what she'd assumed: the mark of the Baskerville house. They were letters, a whole large stack of letters all with the seal. She took the first one hesitantly and opened it with pursed lips.

"What's that?" came the question from her manservant.

Alice skimmed through it quickly. It wasn't dated, signed; it wasn't even addressed to anyone. But Alice could recognize the handwriting anywhere. Glen Baskerville. She shook her head and answered back: "Just a letter from my father, going over the specifics of the almost-engagement announcement."

In fact most of them were about that.

"Wow," he said in comment to the towering stack of letters growing on the desk. "I didn't know our fathers were such chums."

Alice breathed in aggravation, tossing the last one carelessly. "Well that was use –" There was one more letter. But this was different from the rest. No insignia, no stiff official paper. Just a single fold and two lines:

When you have her, do what you will.

She is disposable.

It was as if someone had gone and knocked the wind out of her and she couldn't breathe. A descent of horrifying thoughts flooded her mind. It was useless. Her entire life. Bowing her head down in obedience, following orders, living every moment in hopes of getting one kind word from her father. All in vain because, in the end, he was just going to get rid of her, leave her in the hands of a stranger that would have done who knows what? It was almost laughable in a sick, twisted kind of way.

But she couldn't laugh. Couldn't even cry. Because she felt like she was suffocating, the room seemed so stuffy. She had to get out. Tossing the letter with a certain ball of spite, she found the closest exit – the window.


"Shit," Oz cried as he hurried to the window where Alice's figure had disappeared and was landing completely unharmed. "What is she?"

"Should I go after her?" Gil asked, already half way out the door.

"No. Clean this up," he gestured to the mess they had made. He picked up the crumpled paper and it took only a brief second to understand what had happened. He sighed. At least he was certain she wasn't trying to kill herself. "I'll get her." He also failed to mention he was afraid Gilbert might accidentally shoot her or something.

"Will you be jumping out of the window?" Gil exclaimed.

Oz gave him a dry look, not sure if he was serious and said, "Just make sure this place looks like we were never here." And with that, he sprinted down the hall and out of the nearest door. He bounded into the back where Alice was already disappearing into the woods beyond the manor.

"Stay where you are!" he ordered the guards leaving their posts to chase after her. The last thing he needed was to have his security men losing even more moral by getting beaten up by a little – but frightening – girl.

"But Oz-sama!"

"I said stay!" Oz barked, crashing into the trees. Another reason would be that he didn't want to leave a large part of his guards gone, not after earlier events. "Hey! Will you wait up?" he yelled, annoyed yet grateful that while Alice had superhuman strength, she didn't seem to have superhuman speed. Just a little more and he would catch up.

I feel a slight sensation of déjàvu, he thought.

The forests here started to go downhill as the mountainside curved downwards. It grew thick and dense the deeper he went, into unfamiliar territory that Oz didn't want to stay in longer than he had to. "Would you – ah!" His foot caught on something and it sent him tumbling and was finally stopped when he slammed straight into the base of a tree. He cursed loudly and examined his cut skin and muddied clothes. "Why did I go after her again?" he mumbled in irritation, brushing off leaves and debris. She was still visible a little far off and just standing there now, but he really just wanted to head back and get the sleep he was so deprived.

And then his ears caught it. A little melody, as sweet as bells. His heads twisted until he peered through the thick of the trees and saw a small opening of light.

He took only a second to make the decision: Annoying girl who's probably going to punch me, or mysterious creepy melody?

He felt the answer was pretty self-explanatory. Giving up on his chase, he averted his attention to the strange song and eventually emerged into a small clearing. Just small enough to fit was a cross-shaped headstone and draped on its side by a chain was a small gold pocket watch.