*Author's Note: Hello again! Thanks so much for reading! ^_^ This is kind of a strange chapter, and as I was writing it, I was like... This chapter feels totally awkward. But then I re-read it and added some minor details, and now I think it went to 'adorably awkward'. Hopefully! Please let me know what you think! I'll try to update again soon!
Thanks so much for all the support! I love getting reviews or even PMs! Any and all feedback is important to me! :) PS... Sorry if Undertaker seems a bit OOC. He doesn't usually show anger, so I had to improvise. And with me only having seen the anime, he's not ever angry at all. I'm not sure about the manga. Let me know if you have any ideas, or if there is a scene where Undertaker is angry about something. Lol Who knows! It could help me! Anyway, thanks again! *
Sebastian was in the driver's bench of the carriage, leaving Haven alone inside.
She felt lonely for some reason, maybe because she'd always been around Undertaker for as long as she could remember... But now...
How long had it been since she'd last seen him?
It had to be at least eleven o'clock at night, and her last glimpse of Undertaker had been during the day.
Finally, as she gazed out the window, she started seeing places that were familiar to her again, such as the old park and the alleyways she'd run through with Undertaker on their trips into town.
She'd run awfully far away on her own... They'd been travelling by carriage for what had seemed to be close to half an hour.
This was the second time she'd gotten lost. Maybe memorising the layout of the town would be in her best interests...
Finally, the vehicle rocked to a stop, and Sebastian was suddenly opening the door for her, holding his gloved hand out to help her down.
She took his hand and carefully stepped down, realising that her feet were absolutely painful to stand upon, probably due to the length she'd run in such thin shoes.
"Thank you, Sebastian," Haven gave him a thankful nod once she was firmly standing on the ground, and he cast his crimson gaze at her with a small smile.
"Think nothing of it, my Lady," he replied. "Please do try to have a pleasant night."
With a final bow, he gracefully hopped back on to the driver's bench and whipped the reins gently, causing the horses to start up their trot against the cobblestones.
Haven stood where she was as the carriage gradually disappeared into the darkness.
When she turned around, the Undertaker's building stood before her, the sign gently tapping with the breeze.
The night still smelled like rain, and that mixed with the sight of the building she now called home almost made her collapse with relief.
She took off running toward the door even though she could feel her heartbeat in the soles of her feet, and burst into the dark house.
"Undertaker?!" Haven called, her breaths shallow. "Undertaker?!"
Silence.
Nobody answered her calls, and she stopped just inside the darkened main room.
A thought suddenly forced it's way to the front of Haven's mind...
She'd been worried that Undertaker would think that she'd run away... But...
When she'd fallen, he'd disappeared so quickly. What if he had been the one to run away from her...?
Maybe she was just too much of a burden?
That didn't seem like such a stretch, because he knew that she became lost easily, and his home was now empty.
A sadness suddenly welled up inside of Haven's stomach, making her chest burn as if someone had set a fire in her lungs.
"Undertaker...?" Haven whispered, her heart paining her for some reason.
Slam!
Suddenly, the front door burst open again, and Haven looked over, startled.
Undertaker stood there, his clothes damp from the rain, just as she was.
He simply stood there for a moment, seeming shocked to see her, his damp hair curling at the ends as it dried.
Haven was also too surprised to speak, as she had just been on the verge of a dark depression at the thought of being abandoned, and now she was too startled to feel anything.
Finally, Undertaker opened his mouth to speak.
"So I've finally found you, dearie!" he cried, sounding extremely relieved. He put a hand to his chest as if his lungs had been on fire as well. "I've been lookin' all over for ya, I have! Was so worried."
At this, Haven finally found herself crumpling.
She approached the Undertaker and wrapped her arms around his waist, her sobs wracking her body hard enough to make her tremble.
"U-Undertaker-" she gasped, resting her cheek against his chest.
"I'm right here, lady, there's no need to cry," he soothed, patting her back and hair with his hands. "Tell me what happened. I turned 'round and you were suddenly gone! Been searching the whole time for ya, and only returned here to get me light. Didn't expect ya'd be here already, I didn't."
Haven couldn't exactly catch her breath enough to answer. She was clinging to him as if she wouldn't be able to stand up without him supporting her, and maybe she couldn't because her feet were still quite sore.
"I... I got lost," Haven started, and then repeated the entire story for what felt like the hundredth time that night: getting lost, the man trying to help her, then trying to rape her and kill her, him admitting he was the murderer... Her asking around for Undertaker but then giving up and being taken to the Phantomhive estate instead, and finally Sebastian driving her home in the carriage.
When she finally stopped explaining, she felt completely exhausted and drained. She really wanted to take a hot bath, but didn't know if she could muster up the energy.
"Well, now," Undertaker finally said after a long moment. His voice was deeper somehow, and there was some underlying emotion to his usual cheerful wackiness. "No wonder ya've collapsed now, dearie. It'd be best if ya take a hot bath, and then go right to sleep. I've always found that hot baths clear the mind and calm the soul."
Haven was still clinging to him like a child, and felt her face redden a bit. She wasn't a child... She needed to calm down and go take a bath.
She was telling herself this, when Undertaker suddenly reached up and stroked her damp hair, his embrace tightening on her for a moment.
"Everythin' is alright now, love, jus' go calm down. I'll be right here when ya come out," he said, his voice softer than before.
Haven released him and didn't even look up at his face as she turned and made her way into the bathroom. She was too surprised to say anything and gently closed the door behind her, noticing that Undertaker had called her 'love' instead of the usual 'dearie' or 'lady'.
Wondering what it meant, she turned and found herself staring directly into the old, cracked mirror.
She really looked quite frightful. Her hair was tangled and damp. Her cheeks were red and tear-stained. Her corsets were partially undone, and she had blood stained on her palms.
She had gone to see Earl Phantomhive like this?
How humiliating.
With a sigh, Haven undressed and prepared for her bath, her mind too exhausted to even think.
...
When she exited the bathroom, Undertaker was sitting on the floor, in front of a coffin, a tray of tea and bone-shaped biscuits set out before him.
He was drinking his tea, silently, and looked up at her with his hidden eyes as she entered the room. She was now in a nightgown instead of her dress, which had been ruined by the blood and rain.
"Have a seat, dearie," Undertaker gestured next to him, and although Haven didn't think it would be wise to sit on the floor in a nightgown, she did it anyways. Gently sitting across from him, she was still quiet.
"Drink some tea, it'll warm ya from the inside out," Undertaker advised as he sipped his own tea contentedly.
Haven did as requested and took her cup of tea between her cold hands.
"Haven, dear, are ya alright?" Undertaker questioned, concerned. "Yer hands are bleeding, they are."
Haven looked down at her palms, and saw the scratches from the fall.
"I'm fine," she replied, trying to sound strong. "I got cut when I fell, that's all."
Undertaker suddenly grabbed her foot by the ankle and eyed the bruises on her soles, and Haven's face burned right red.
Pulling her foot quickly from his grasp, she tried to calm down enough to get her face to return to a normal shade.
"Those are from running," Haven explained, suddenly feeling very detached from the earlier situation. It was just an event that had happened to her, just as everyone else had events that had happened to them.
It was just her own problem, like everyone had theirs.
Maybe she was finally calm now.
"You've my apologies, dearie," Undertaker finally blurted. "The blame for all o' this rests on me, it does. Because o' me, ya almost died. It'd be a shame for me to not accept that responsibility."
"Your fault?!" Haven exclaimed in surprise. "This isn't your fault at all, Undertaker! It's mine for losing you in the crowds and then being tricked so easily."
Undertaker still looked down, his teacup hesitating in the air, his other hand propping up his chin, elbow on the coffin.
He finally set down the teacup and tapped his long black nails against the wood of the casket.
"Isn't your fault at all, love," Undertaker finally said, his tone so even that Haven couldn't guess what he was thinking. "The man... didn't..." Undertaker trailed off for a moment, picking up his teacup again and fiddling with it awkwardly, and Haven thought she knew where he was going with his question.
"He just kissed my neck, and tried to undo my corset, nothing else," Haven answered, crossing her arms against her chest to ward off the chill.
Undertaker reached over and gently turned her face to the side, most likely studying her neck.
Suddenly, the cup that he held in his right hand burst into a million shattered pieces, with a loud crack.
Haven jumped, shocked, and realised that the cup had broken because Undertaker had suddenly made a fist with that hand, completely shattering the glass.
"Are you alr-" Haven started, but was cut off by Undertaker.
"He left a mark," he stated, so much anger in his emotionless voice that Haven didn't know how to respond.
"Oh," she replied. "It hasn't gone away yet?"
Undertaker was silent for a long moment, just studying her neck.
"He didn't hurt ya at all, did he, dearie?" he finally asked.
"No," Haven answered. "He slapped me... But it didn't leave a mark."
Because Haven couldn't fully see his face, she couldn't tell what sort of expression he had now.
Anger seemed to be radiating from him, but Haven had never seen Undertaker actually angry before.
"Are- are you alright?" Haven asked him, now eyeing his clenched fist.
Blood dripped from where he'd crushed the teacup, and she reached over and gently moved his long, pale fingers away.
There miraculously didn't seem to be any glass in his cuts, so Haven grabbed a rag from the kitchenette and dabbed the blood off his palm.
As the rag cleaned his wound, Undertaker quickly shook his head as if awakening from a dream, his hat almost falling from his head.
"Don't mind me- I'm jus' fine, dearie," Undertaker said after a while, appearing to be back to normal. His grin quickly broke across his face, completely covering his previous austere expression. He took the rag from her and wrapped it around his hand. "I'm just glad that you're all right now, I am. Ya had me quite worried there when I couldn't find ya. Thought maybe ya'd left me."
Haven's heart seemed to rip from her chest at those words, but she didn't exactly know what to say in return.
"When I got back and you weren't here, I thought that you were the one that had left me," Haven finally said. "I was-" she suddenly cut off, feeling her face burn in embarrassment. "I- Nevermind."
"What was that?" Undertaker inquired, suddenly grinning as he leaned towards her, his usual happy air around him again.
"Nothing," Haven replied. "I forgot."
"Ya didn't forget that quickly, dearie," Undertaker laughed, cocking his head at her again. He seemed to be waiting expectantly, so Haven huffed a breath.
"Nothing... I was just... sad when I thought you'd left me," Haven mumbled so maybe he wouldn't hear. "That's all."
The silence stretched on for a while after that, until Undertaker finally put a hand to his chin.
"Sad, were ya?" he repeated, in thought.
"Yes," Haven replied, relieved that he hadn't laughed.
Suddenly, Undertaker did laugh, a small chuckle that he almost seemed to try to hide.
"Me too, love," he said, quietly. Then turned more towards her and gave her another grin. "Ya should probably go to sleep now, ya should. Rest yerself. Ya said the young Earl'll be stoppin' by tomorrow, so it's best to recover so ya can answer his questions."
"Right," Haven agreed, standing up suddenly. "Thank you for the tea. Good night."
She turned to leave the room, but realised something and turned back around. Undertaker watched her, his head cocked interestedly.
"Actually..." Haven started, "thank you for everything. Because even though this building is all I know, I understand that you're allowing me to stay here as a guest. So... Thank you."
Undertaker continued looking up at her, mouth slightly open.
"You're quite welcome, dearie," Undertaker replied, sounding confused.
"Goodnight," Haven said before turning and walking back into the bedroom.
She only closed the door a bit, but not all the way, because the darkness contained images she didn't wish to relive.