So, in addition to Sorryll and Savvi, I, SuniLaMoon have also joined in on this collab. We'll still be switching off, although now it will alternate between the three of us.

So, I 'spose I'm here with my chapter. ^^

Hope it's satisfactory. xD;;

Jizabel swallowed, his eyes falling from Cassandra's piercing gaze to the floor, then back up again, at a complete loss for words. Anything he said would probably fan the fire, and, aside from that, he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't vomit if he opened his mouth then. He stumbled back from Cassian, his body teetering and his hand searching behind him for a source of balance, which happened to be the back of a chair.

He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he had pushed Cassian away roughly the moment he heard Gladstone speak.

"Rather intimate, aren't we?" Cassandra remarked, an eyebrow raised as he remained leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed smugly.

"Whatever warped scenario you thought you saw-"

"Thought? You imply I'm getting ahead of myself," Cassandra remarked, cutting off Cassians words, "My eyes do not deceive me..." He paused, turning his attention back to Jizabel at last, who stood closer to the corner, his hand still gripping the chair for support, Cassian noticing him jump slightly as Cassandra spoke to him. "Well, I never expected you to be the type, Jizabel...."

His face was partially hidden under the grey tresses, and he raised his eyes briefly at Cassandra, feeling just the smallest bit safer that the older man could not see his face. Although it wasn't of that much condolence, he could see that look in his eyes again, that predatory gleam as he took a step closer. "....Really, it makes me wonder why you're so shy around me."

"Leave him be."

"I do not take my orders from trump cards... Besides, that is more up to Jizabel, who's company he keeps."

"Go, Cassian." The tension had both built and ceased when Jizabel spoke up, finally raising his head slightly to face Cassandra, his mask back on. Not perfect, yet still passable, still devoid of emotion.

Cassian grit his teeth, a fury coursing through his body, though the line between true anger and frustration was somewhat intangible. He didn't know what to feel, apart from that steady burn and... was it fear?

"Doctor, you can't really mean-"

"Get. Out," Jizabel murmured. The 'boy' swallowed, taking a step backwords, "Out! I don't want your pity, I am not even sure what you pity me for...." his hand shook on the edge of the chair, blood soaking through part of the bandage as his cuts were re-opened, "...Now, I have many things I must discuss with Head Priest Cassandra."

Cassians eyes narrowed for a moment, and an involuntary chill running down Jizabels spine as he realized both Cassandra and his assistant were looking at him with two very different, yet eerily similar, mindsets.

"Can you not even obey your own superior?" Cassandra added, as he uncrossed his arms, strolling closer to rest his hand on the chair next to Jizabels. "Be on your way, then... Isn't it abit late for a boy your age to be up, anyway?" he added with a chuckle, adding insult to injury.

Cassandra's views didn't matter, Cassian could still feel the pain radiating under that mask... He knew Jizabel didn't want him to leave, at least not to be left alone with that sick man.

"Doctor...." Cassian faltered, saddened again by Jizabels distance, by the thick and cold walls he had built up again, and afraid of what would happen were he to leave. And how much did Cassandra hear...? "Doctor... Jizabel, please, you don't have to-"

The breath was knocked from his lungs, as he felt two hands push roughly against his chest, knotting into the fabric of his shirt, and a chill ran down his spine as Cassandra leaned closer.

"Didn't I tell you to leave?"

Don't threaten him, don't even move...

He swallowed, glancing briefly at Jizabel, who had backed further into the room, then back at Cassandra, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Make him angry and he'll just take it out on the kid, do you want that....?

Cassian's hand relaxed, and he slid it out of his pocket, despite the raging fire that told him to draw the blade. At the same time, Cassandra's grip slackened, and he stood upright again with a sneer on his face, freely showing his disgust in even touching someone so below his stature.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence and heartbeats, he left, the door closing softly behind him, and his footsteps disappearing into the hallway. Jizabels throat felt dry, his chest pounding involuntarily as he looked past Cassandra at the closed door. Still, the mask never dropped. It was stone cold, blank, an emotionless slate despite the condition he was in.

Cassian was gone now, that short moment of confusion, frustration and.... and warmth, comfort.... It was over, and the useless assistant had left him alone in that mans hands, even closing the door behind him.

He knew what Cassandra was thinking, he recognized that the gleam in his eyes was some twisted lust, and he was the focus of it all, and yet... He wanted to fight that truth, for his own sanity he wanted desperately to fight that truth.

And, in no way, did he wish to be left alone with him, with the door closed. There was no victory in sight in such a situation, he knew nobody would come to his aid, and he didn't want the pity anyway.... He especially didn't want anyone to see him if...

Cassandra crossed the room silently, reaching to the door, and Jizabel's face paled as he heard the lock click.

He swallowed, clenching his fist and cringing abit, looking down and opening his hand to finally notice the blood seeping through, and the bandages rubbing uncomfortably against his open flesh.

"Tch, tch.... You've made quite a mess of yourself, haven't you, Jizabel?" The words rolled off his tongue, each more aggressive then the next as he returned to the doctor's side, and pressed himself closer to the younger man, his hand intertwining with Jizabel's as he nudged his lips against his neck. He couldn't breath. All involuntary functions of his body seemed to be slowing down, his legs feeling shaky, his breath caught in his throat, his heart twisting.... his lungs.... her lungs.... the pain in his chest that could not be equaled. And, furthermore, that mans voice.... his eyes.... He could remember when his father had that tone, on that day that his mother had....

He drew in a sharp breath, as Cassandra slid his other hand across Jizabels neck, slipping it below the edge of his yukata.

"What are you....?" His voice was below a whisper, most strength he had lost. And it had not even been a day yet.

Not even a day since Cassandra had first forced himself into his head.... And now.... Now he couldn't distinguish any border between Cassandras own powers and his pathetic weakness.

He was tired... Confused, but more predominantly, tired. It was true that somewhere, in some hazy corner, he could fully understand what Cassandra had in mind.... But that part of him, which had drifted into subconsciousness, could only scream to be rid of his touch.

At that moment, however...

"Have you never been touched in this way....?" Cassandra's hand pulled out of the flowing fabric, and began tracing a line across his collar bone, his other hand grasping Jizabels tighter. "My Jizabel...."

He swallowed, remembering the words that snake had spoken just hours before....

Was he showing fear now? Was he giving him what he wanted?

I'm not yours...

"Now, It isn't my concern what you and that trump card were engaged in...." Cassandra murmured, his hand lowering again, this time drawing a soft line down Jizabels chest toward his waist, "...Yet ....I can't help but show concern when someone of such low standing... is making advancements on someone like you...." Jizabels breath hitched as Cassandra maneuvered his hand under the tie at his waist.

No more.

"I just think you deserve... better...."

....Stop!

Cassandra stood, slack-jawed, infront of Jizabel, his hand brushing across the thin scratch on the side of his face... apparently stunned by the others actions, as he looked down at the blood left on his fingers. Jizabels breathing was irregular, a bloodied scalpel still in his hand, which he'd snatched off of a tray that had been sitting on the table. Although he could feel his mind coming back down from that distant, hazy, place, he still couldn't say he felt like himself. He was far too uneasy to feel like himself, and he had a more than strong suspicion that Gladstone had been working his hypnosis into that assault.

Cassandra scowled, stepping towards Jizabel again, who's hand only gripped the scalpel tighter, and slowly began circling him.

"Feisty, aren't you..." He remarked, with fascination rather then anger, despite the mark that the doctor had left him with, "I can't say I expected that, you're always so composed...." He took a final step, now directly behind Jizabel, with only a few inches separating them again, "...Perhaps this won't take as long as I'd thought."

Jizabel gasped, as Cassandra knocked the scalpel from his hand, twisting his arm around to pin it behind his back at a painful angle. And, with little pause between actions, it only took another warningless shove for Jizabel to find his face pressed against the tile, one arm still behind his back where Cassandra held it, as he pinned him to the floor.

"Oh my.... you look worried?" Gladstone murmured with a smile, before roughly rolling Jizabel over to face him, straddling his waste, and moving both his hands to a restrained position above his head.

Jizabel looked away, the idea of looking into that mans eyes almost shameful... He truly feared that gleam now, and, more so, he feared Cassandras reactions to that fear.

Gladstone leaned in closer, using his free hand to pull the front of Jizabels robe open, ignoring the small whimper that unwillingly escaped the doctors mouth. The same hand began to caress his body in an icy touch, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

And the worst of this experience; he knew there was nobody willing to help him.

His father had abandoned him long ago, and not a soul in this organization could give a damn what was happening to others... Then again, he knew such care could not be found in any human. Then there was Cassian....

He swallowed... fighting off the urge to cry was common in his world, it was something he did almost each day, he wouldn't let himself break now. Not for Cassandra, and not after what had happened earlier. He could still feel Cassians hand on his face, wiping back the silent tears....

It had been Cassians fault he was here to begin with.

And It didn't even matter if anyone would help him.... The shame of being caught like this would be unbearable.

....So why was he praying Cassian would come back in?

"Your heart is beating so fast now...." Cassandra murmured, tracing a finger across Jizabels chest, before licking in the same area, and nipping briefly at his nipple.

"S-stop..."

Cassandra lifted his head, looking back towards the terrified creature under him.

"Are you begging? I thought you had more pride then that," he muttered, twisting his hand tighter around the doctors wrists, eliciting a sharp cry as he scraped against the cuts, "You'd never give in to your dear father like this...."

He was right.... This was pathetic. What was wrong with him...?

He traced back up Jizabel's body, his finger drawing a line over his ribcage, before finally coming up to the black cross that lay against his cold skin. He paused for a moment, feeling the intricate details of the black crystals, even lifting it slightly. "....And you never take it off, do you?" He remarked, in a semi-disgusted tone, as he jerked the chain, though not hard enough to break it.

"Do you really believe what he said when he gave it to you....?" Cassandra asked, as he toyed with the crucifix in his hand, and, after deciding he'd get no response, he murmured under his breath, "You crave that pain, don't you...?"

He felt Cassandra's hand finally let go of his wrists, sliding down to stroke across his face, his pale lips, stopping as he reached his neck. He could feel those tormenting fingers tighten around his throat, constricting just enough to make his breathing difficult, though not impossible.

This alone was exhilarating for Cassandra, the bandaged hands that snapped to his own, trying to push him off, the younger mans bare chest heaving as he tried to pull air into those lungs, his hair sprawled out over the tile floor... the warmth of the body that the Head Priest was straddling. It thrilled him, perhaps even more then the prostitutes he brought home... it left him wanting more, although he had to hold back, had to remind himself to make his newest toy last.

"Do you want me to stop...?" Cassandra murmured, dipping down lower, to whisper directly into Jizabel's ear, putting extra weight against his throat in the process. "...I will under one condition."

He exhaled as he finished his words, although the hot breath against Jizabel's neck was not nearly as unsettling as the feel of Cassandra's tongue drawing a line down the edge of his ear. Jizabel was slowing down now, one of his hands slipping away from Cassandra's, the other still fighting... His head feeling lighter.

Gladstone had no intention of killing him, not now, no, not ever.... He just wanted to come close, to imagine him at his weakest, his frailest... To see himself reflected in those cold eyes, in fear, and in desperation. To hear him forced to spill his darkest secrets, to watch him break and surrender to his touch. His grin broadened, and he turned Jizabels head to face him, this time licking away the few salty tears that had unwillingly fallen from the doctors eyes.

"...Well, you know what that condition is, don't you?"

Yes, of course he knew full well what that bastard wanted him, the way he skillfully avoided saying it was all the more sickening. Afterall, Gladstone was a gentleman.... Would it be better to just give in? Let him have his way and.... No, the blood obviously wasn't reaching his head anymore, death was a better option then-

Much less gracefully then they'd wrapped around his neck, he could feel Cassandra's hand jerk away, and the weight lift from his waist as the older man stood abruptly, his eyes set on the door knob as it jiggled.

"...Death? Are you in there?" They both recognized the voice on the other side as Zenopia's, and although he had picked an odd time to wander down to the medical wing, Jizabel was relatively thankful for the encounter.

Cassandra cursed under his breath pacing towards the door, and shooting a sharp glare at Jizabel... And, after Zenopia tried the knob a second time, Jizabel still not rising, Cassandra stomped briskly back to him, pulling him up roughly by the arm, which would leave almost as defined a bruise the next morning as the one on his neck.

Taking Cassandra's que, still horribly shaken from the whole experience, he tied his robe closed again, as best he could, and unlocked the door, cracking it slightly to look down at Zenopia's usually peculiar face.

"I'd thought I heard someone in here, isn't it a little late...?" The elder man mumbled, pushing the door open further and wandering past Jizabel in a B-line to one of the shelves. "...Or, I suppose it's early, I lost track of time, didn't sleep at all, too much to do, never enough time in a day to do it..."

Jizabels left hand was still resting on the door frame, his right rubbing the mark on his neck, before wrapping it uncharacteristically around his body, holding his robe closed. The room still felt tense, constricting, yet he'd never been more thankful to hear Zenopia's endless prattle, that tedious chatter had been the only thing to save him.

The Hermit grabbed a few books and jars off of the shelf, finally turning around to notice Cassandra, who was still brooding over the short old man's presence. "Oh, Head Priest Cassandra..." He paused, glancing at one of his books to make sure it was the correct one, before looking back at Jizabel, "...Was I interrupting something?" He asked, apparently oblivious to the situation between the two.

"No," Jizabel murmured, unpleasantly surprised by how shaky the word came out, "The Head Priest had requested a word with me in private, but I was just on my way out...." His voice rested somewhere between his earlier panic, and the calculating tone he normally used. He could care less what Zenopia thought, it didn't matter as long as he could use this time to slip out. Zenopia raised an eyebrow, before strolling past Cassandra without a word, and coming to stand near Jizabel.

"Well then..." He said, balancing the two books and the jar under his left arm as he pulled the door open completely, "If that's the case, why don't you accompany me, there are some things I would like to discuss with you."

Jizabel nodded, somewhat surprised at just how much Zenopia was accidently being of aid, and stepped out of the room. The Hermit stood in the doorway momentarily, apparently pondering something, before looking back up to Cassandra. "Pleasant seeing you, Lord Gladstone." He said, with a quaint nod, before backing out of the room and closing the door silently.

There was not a word between them, as they walked down the hallway towards the wing that the Major Arcana shared. The only noises were their own footsteps, and Zenopia's blissful humming, both Jizabel was thankful for, the sounds were enough to keep him distracted. He was still frightened, now more so than before, and the frail little boy inside of him was breaking down to a degree that the mask could not hide. He swallowed, a chill coming over him as he pulled the robe tighter around his body, unable to keep Cassandra's words, his touch, from his mind.

"What was it that you wished to discuss with me....?" he murmured finally, praying that some conversation could protect him from the fear consuming him, block it out, if only for a few minutes.

"To be honest, nothing." He responded in a flat tone, continuing to hum as soon as he was done speaking. Something akin to a gasp escaped Jizabel throat as he turned his head to look at the older man, who appeared completely serious.

"You told me earlier that you had...."

"You looked far from comfortable in there, and most everyone here knows how our High Priest is."

Jizabel felt a twinge of anger... So it was happening already? Was everyone jumping to their own conclusions of what his relationship with Cassandra was? He cursed himself, the worst of it was that if they were.... If they were, they were correct. But Zenopia? He was supposed to be the logical one, someone similar to himself, not a man to dwell on the affairs of others.

Zenopia frowned, knowing full well that if Jizabel didn't say something immediately he would not respond at all. And, after shifting his books under his other arm, he continued, "Well, I'm unaware of what you have been caught up in, but you look dreadful. I thought you should return to your quarters, lie down.... I can't have you falling ill on me. We have a deadline, you know."

Why hadn't he been telling the truth? If only he actually had something to discuss, perhaps related to their research, the deadly dolls, Mikaila.... Something. If that were the case, he could have drowned himself in it... He could have felt safe, knowing that Cassandra would not go near him at that time. Zenopia had almost built his hopes up, whatever one could call 'hopes', but now it just pity and false concern.... Now they'd reached the door to Zenopia's quarters, and he knew full well he was supposed to keep on walking, down to his room, get dressed, and go about his day as if nothing had happened.

Perhaps he could lock himself away for awhile, and The Cardmaster would not notice? He scoffed at the thought.... Notice? Not care was the more accurate term, and he knew that more than anyone.

And so, after parting ways with The Hermit, he continued down the hall at a quickened pace, determined to get back to the sanctuary of his own room, as if Cassandra was right behind him.

It was a manner of minutes before he reached his bedroom, and, with little hesitation, he turned the knob and slipped in, sliding the lock into place behind him, and letting out a sigh of relief. He bit his lip, sliding down the door into a seated position, and-

"...Doctor?"

He jerked his head up in surprise to see Cassian by the window, primarily concerned as to why he had not noticed him there before.... and even more uncomfortable, given the conditions under which they had last seen eachother.

"How do you know I wouldn't understand unless you tell me.... Doctor?"

"....Cassian.... Why are you here?" he asked breathily, in a tone just barely above a whisper.

Cassian stepped away from the windowsill, taking careful steps in Jizabels direction. Although the doctor himself wasn't aware of it, Jizabel was shivering considerably more than he realized, and Cassian could only think to compare him to a cornered animal... terrified, and highly defensive.

"Doctor?" He repeated, kneeling as he came within a few feet of the younger man. "...Yes, Cassian?" he responded, and although his voice was not shaking, it sounded terribly weary.

Cassians throat felt dry, as he crawled a few inches closer to the other man, lifting his hand warily, and, after deciding it felt appropriate to do so, he slid it under Jizabels chin, lifting his head to face him. "...Did he.... hurt you?" he asked carefully, knowing he was treading on thin ice. There was a distant, almost hazy, look in the younger mans eyes as he lifted his own hand to Cassian's wrist, pushing him away. He swallowed, willing himself into sounding at least somewhat composed.

"No. We just spoke."

Cassian emitted a quiet gasp, knowing Jizabels tone all too well. "You're lying."

"What would I have to lie about?

"What did he do to you?"

Jizabel cringed, a small whimper inadvertently escaping his throat. The pressure he'd felt before made all the worse by recent events. Now what did Cassian want? Did he wish for him to vomit every twisted detail of his childhood onto the floor? Did he want him to describe to him what Cassandra wanted? What Cassandra had done to him? The latest defilement was Cassian's fault to begin with, and now he was asking what had occurred...?

Cassian's eyebrows were furrowed as he slid closer to Jizabel, separating the distance between them and sitting with his back against the door, the same way the younger man was. Honestly, the doctors state of mind was scaring him. He'd never seen Jizabel this fragile, this vulnerable. He felt sickened that he'd even left earlier, that he hadn't stood up to Cassandra and taken Jizabel away from him.

"Well, I never expected you to be the type, Jizabel...."

That man was sick. He had told himself that before, as soon as the ritual had ended. He'd even "accidentally" knocked the candelabra from the balcony to distract him, to get his hands off of the poor kid... Cassian certainly had a few idea's as to what Cassandra desired, and none of them gave him any peace of mind now.

".... You really can tell me... If you want." He whispered, bringing his knee's up to his chest, with a feeling he would be there for awhile. He had never found comforting to be his strong suit, but he could try. It was almost seven o'clock now, morning light peeking in through the open window and casting several distinct beams across the floor, and he knew that the rest of Delilah would soon be stirring.

"...Cassian?"

The "boy" raised his head, to look at Jizabel, who'd assumed a similar posture, his knees pulled close to him, and his arms still wrapped around his body instinctually. Though, unlike Cassian, his face was not hidden, but staring across the room to the open window, listening to the faint sounds of birds stirring outside.

"Yes?" Cassian replied, watching him, almost lost in those pained eyes of his.

"...Is that true?"

Cassian sighed, his expression of concern fading to something softer as he leaned across and brushed his hand over Jizabels cheek as he'd done earlier.

"Of course."

LKFJQJFGQKGJ.... Ehh.... Can't say I was too pleased, but what can ya do. R&R, and I hope our readers are still enjoying this.