BEHOLD LADIES AND GENTLEMAN I AM...ALIVE!

So what had happened was a fetid blend of laziness, procrastination, but most of all (topping even procrastination), I had no idea where I was going with the plot. The reason you now receive this update earlier than I expected to have it done is due to a startlingly vivid dream in which the plot flowered beautifully. I mean, and then a guy from my school had a machine gun fire extinguisher poking out his ass and launching him across the room, through the wall, and into the tank of poison dart frogs, but that's another story.

Review! :D

It was awful outside when he woke up, a cold damp gray morning like the one Francis had been buried on. It exactly reflected his mood.

He lay there, in the shadow of the gargoyle, eyelashes frosted shut. The wind was mind-numbingly cold, and all his muscles ached from his night on the roof. Summer was nothing but a distant memory, whisked away on the heels of that big storm however long ago. Was it really only yesterday? he mused abstractedly. It feels longer. Much longer.

Gilbert would've been content with lying in the cold until he died of it, but a booted foot buried itself in his side. "Get out of my spot," said a familiar voice.

He cracked open an eye, with effort. "Natalya?"

"No, it's your mother. Eat your vegetables, moron!"

The albino rolled clumsily to his feet, missing the kick that would've probably knocked out a few teeth. "Hey, could you not do that?"

Natalya rolled her eyes, ignoring his question. "So, I heard that you screwed up," she said casually, as if discussing a trivial matter. "Was it exciting?"

"What do you mean, exciting?" Gilbert exploded. "That was the culminations of everything I've ever wanted, and my stupid mouth screwed it up! Me and my guilt." He sat down abruptly, dangling his feet over the side of the building.

"Aren't you afraid I'll push you?" asked Natalya, her voice void of any emotion except for the barest traces of curiosity.

"Go ahead," he said gloomily. "I couldn't care less."

This made the woman nod her head in what might've been approval. After a moment, she sat next to him, like she had last time. "If it makes you feel any better, still possessing a feeling of guilt means you're not entirely irredeemable. There's hope for you yet."

Gilbert reflexively tightened his grasp on the stone wall. "What would you have me do then?"

"Turn yourself in," said Natalya promptly.

The albino was about to protest when he realized the wisdom in her statement. If Elizaveta wanted him to stew in his own misery, then fine, he could do it. But from the luxurious vantage point of the dungeon, he could at least have the feeling that he was finally atoning for his sins. He didn't deserve the luxurious rooms befitting a person of his status. His thoughts weren't expressing themselves with the eloquence he felt was deserved, but they got the idea across well enough.

Natalya had been watching his face to see how long it would take him to understand it. She didn't seem impressed by what she saw.

Gilbert sprang to his feet again. "Where do you come up with these things?" he asked, almost gratefully, ignoring the wind turning his already cold skin to ice.

"My very own brain," she snapped sarcastically. "It's called thinking. You should try it once in a while."

Ignoring her bitterness, Gilbert went to the edge of the roof and started climbing down.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Hey, genius! You're climbing down on the wrong side!"

Not even hesitating, the albino clambered back up, revitalized. "Thanks, Natalya!"

And she was so stunned by the heartfelt gratitude in his voice that she was startled into a polite response. "You too?"

But by that time, Gilbert was inside, new hope bringing energy to his sore limbs. In his room, he changed out of his frozen clothes and relaxed under a brief, but hot, shower, his heart thudding in his chest.

Finally. I'm finally doing something right.