*Author's Note: Hello! I needed a break from way too much homework, so I decided to update! Yeah! It works out for everyone this way. XD

Anyway! Please let me know what you think about this chapter! We get a bit of a look into what Undertaker thinks about it all! And thanks again to everyone who's reviewed or followed or favourited! It really gives me the courage to continue knowing that someone will read it haha! :) thanks again! Peacee!**

...

The sun had long since set, casting strange shadows across the interior of the building, but Undertaker still hadn't returned from his walk.
Haven hadn't left the house as he'd requested, and sat numbly on a casket in the centre of the room.

She was numb... but she was also most definitely confused.
Undertaker had gotten so close to her... And she'd wanted to kiss him... And he'd acted as if he was going to kiss her back... But then something had happened and he'd suddenly changed his mind.

It really didn't make any sense to Haven's confused and exhausted mind.
Maybe she should just forget about it. That sounded like the best option.
To just pretend it hadn't happened... But, when was Undertaker going to come back?
And where had he gone, exactly?
Haven now had even more questions in her head, and all of them were unanswered.
With a sigh, she finally stood up and stretched her tired limbs. She'd been sitting on the hard surface, waiting for Undertaker for hours.

She assumed that he wouldn't be home for quite some time and finally made her way into the back bedroom where her cot was.
She lay down upon it and pulled the blanket up to her chin, feeling the warmth of it heat up her cold body. Turning over on to her side so she was facing the door, Haven finally allowed herself to fall asleep although her mind felt as if it were about to crack in two.

...

The undertaker finally made it back to his home when the moon was high in the sky, shining brightly beside the stars against the velvety blackness.
He was staring up at the sky as he made his way into the building, knowing that he'd have quite a bit of explaining to do tomorrow.
But, he was planning on acting as if nothing had happened.
He needed time to think, to get his wits about him, to relocate his senses.
Hoping that his dear Haven had indeed gone to bed, mentally chastising himself for being such a coward, he quietly stepped into the main room and shut the door behind him.
Even though his building was dark he could see that Haven had gone to sleep in the back room and left the door open. Probably to hear when he came back home, Undertaker bet.
But as he stood there in the dark room, staring at the girl's slumbering form, Undertaker had to think that it must have been fated that he'd found Haven that day in the alley.
He'd waited a good half an hour in the alley after stumbling upon her, as she was on the verge of death, to see if any reapers had come for her soul... But none had appeared.
So it hadn't been her time to die, and Undertaker knew then that he had to save her somehow.
Was it all supposed to have happened the way it did?
He wasn't completely sure, himself.
The girl made him act strangely, she did, and he seemed to be losing control of himself somehow.
That fact frightened him more than anything else.
Even though Undertaker knew he was quite the character, deep inside he was aware of everything he did and was actually in good control of himself. Not many knew it, but he could also control the lives of others.
Hm... Well, maybe 'control' wasn't the best word...
It was more as if Undertaker knew how to influence people enough to make them choose certain courses of action.
In that way, he could control them.
But he'd also been alone for the majority of his existence. He'd learned early on that he didn't quite crave the company of others...
No, he had other interests to entertain his fancy.
Along with being alone, Undertaker enjoyed learning about death.
Life and death.
The thought that a living being could be alive and well one moment, and then gone from the world forever the next interested him to no end.
He'd never feared death, nor did he ever grow sad to see someone die.
So, if he and death were on such good terms... Why had he panicked so when he'd realised that his dear Haven had suddenly gone missing?
And why, when he'd stumbled upon her dying form in the alley, had he thought it would be such a pity for her to die when he'd never really mourned the deaths of others?
Undertaker still had no answer.
He wasn't completely heartless.
He understood that dying was considered a terrible event to humanity, and therefore helped the young Earl Phantomhive stop murderers when asked.
And he had always felt pity upon hearing that someone had died painfully, because death was a beautiful moment when all pain was supposed to cease. It would be a shame for a person to die in that condition.
But now, as Undertaker stared into the shadowed back bedroom where his Haven rested peacefully, he started to doubt everything he'd ever decided about life and death.
He'd saved her for a reason.
He wanted her to live.
But, curiously, he didn't know why.
Undertaker suddenly found himself walking into the back bedroom, his gaze trained upon the girl's closed eyes.
Because she was on her side, her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed, and Undertaker crouched down beside her with his head tilted slightly to the right.
She was alive now, at least.
His gaze suddenly fell to the red mark on her neck, and he froze again.
It brought strange emotions into his veins, that mark did.
Undertaker suddenly envisioned the murderer pressing his evil lips against her neck and beckoning the blood beneath her skin to rise, and he became nauseous.
It almost seemed unfair, somehow, that a murderer would be allowed to do such a thing to his Haven.
Without realising what he was doing, Undertaker reached out and gently touched the red mark on her neck. Her skin was so smooth, like running his fingertips against velvet or satin.
She was so alive, and Undertaker suddenly felt a thrill run through his body like lightning.
Quickly withdrawing his hand, Undertaker sensed the same fear within him that he'd felt last time.
Why was he so drawn to her like this when he was also so frightened?
Once again, Undertaker had no answers for any of his questions.
It was possible that he never would have the answers because he knew as well as anyone that there were some things a man just simply could not understand, no matter how hard he may try.

...

When Haven awoke the next morning, she immediately remembered everything that had happened the day before. The images flashed before her eyes quickly, almost as if she was dreaming when she was awake.
Undertaker had been gone for hours and hours yesterday, and still hadn't returned when she'd finally succumbed to sleep.
As she sat up on her cot, rubbing her tired eyes, she wondered if Undertaker had ever come home or if he'd wandered around all night.
She pushed herself up with sore arms and stood on stinging feet, wondering if the physical evidence of that night would ever fade away.
The room was shadowed because the door leading to the main room was shut-
Wait. Haven did a double-take at the door, something like panic coursing through her body like snake venom.
She'd left the door open last night, hadn't she?
Haven was certain that she had. She'd wanted to hear when Undertaker returned, so she'd left it open...
So... He'd come back last night then?
Haven was suddenly nervous.
Her fingers trembled as she quickly clasped her hands together. What should she do? Was pretending that nothing had happened the best option?
Maybe she should just walk into the main room and act normal. Whatever happened would happen and she could just go along with it.
Right.
Taking a deep breath, Haven walked across the room and opened the door confidently, stepping into the main room with her bare feet.
The room was brightened by a streaky light as it filtered through the dusty windows, and Haven quickly looked around.
Empty.
Undertaker was nowhere to be found. He was most likely in one of his secret rooms again, so Haven plopped down atop a coffin with a huff.
Staring intently at the streaky windows that allowed in minimal sunlight, Haven had the urge to wash them.
Maybe getting a bit more sunlight in the room would help ease her anxiety. And, she had to admit, the task of cleaning would help distract her busy mind.
She stood up and grabbed a rag from a nearby table, but suddenly hesitated with the rag inches away from the dusty glass.
Would Undertaker mind?
She knew that he liked strange and dark things, like thunder storms and cadavers. Maybe he kept the windows dirty on purpose.
With a shrug, Haven cleaned just one window and decided to see if Undertaker commented on it later. If he didn't realise, then maybe she could clean another window tomorrow.
After her singular chore had been accomplished, she sat back down on the coffin and admired her handiwork.
The room did seem a bit brighter now, she realised with satisfaction.
"Now all the other windows look even dirtier," Haven laughed. With an amused sigh, she picked up the rag once again. "I'll clean just one more window..."
Maybe Undertaker wouldn't notice.
Haven set to work washing another pane of glass, but she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her temple.
"Ow!" she gasped, doubled over. She clenched the rag in her tense fingers, trying to wait for the pain to pass but it gradually became worse.
Suddenly a scene played in her mind like a memory.
It was faint and fuzzy like something she'd seen through a dirty window just like this one, but she knew that wasn't the case.
She could hear her own voice, sounding a bit frightened but mostly casual.
'Im not quite sure... I saw him in the alley... He was trying to get girls to come over to him, saying he was selling roses...'
Haven's mind ached again and she gasped in pain.
Another voice answered her own suddenly, still in her head like a memory.
'That's strange... Why would he be selling roses? Aren't those the same ones that grow wild in the park?'
"What...?" Haven groaned to herself as the pain in her head became almost unbearable. She pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to make it subside, but she felt as if she would pass out.
Wham!
Suddenly, the door behind her slammed open, and Haven slumped to the floor. The pain quickly started to ease away as she lay against the cool wood.
"... Dearie? Are ya... happened...? Now... ya hear me...?"
"No," Haven groaned again, and she felt someone pick her up off the floor. The cool wood disappeared beneath her and her head fell back. Blackness clouded her vision.
What happened?
What... had she seen about roses?
The last thing Haven felt before she passed out was a coolness on her forehead.
Where was she?
"Undertaker..." Haven groaned, her head feeling light and full of buzzing air.
And then she passed out.

...

Silence.
Quiet. Refreshing stillness.
Haven's mind felt completely exhausted, like a worn down carpet that had been tread upon too often, but she knew instinctually that the sleep had helped her a great deal.
But... She hadn't fallen asleep?
She suddenly remembered the memory she had, although there wasn't much to it, and tried to turn her head.
"Undertaker-?" her voice choked, making her temples pound painfully.
"Awake so soon," his voice replied, almost cheerfully. "Ya gave me quite a fright, ya did. Ya collapsed just as I walked into the room."
He chuckled a bit, and Haven had to wonder just what it was he found so humorous about the situation.
She forced her burning eyes open and her gaze rested upon the undertaker, who was sitting on the ground beside her cot.
A cool damp cloth was sitting on her forehead, and a thin blanket was draped across her resting body.
"Was- was I running a fever?" Haven inquired, sitting up and catching the cloth as it fell from her forehead.
"Somewhat," Undertaker replied with a grin. "Not a terribly bad fever, but a fever jus' the same."
"Oh..." Haven trailed off, thinking back to her memory and trying to recall as many details as possible.
"Yer slight fever made ya weak," Undertaker explained.
"I- I also remembered something!" Haven told him, eagerly turning in his direction.
"Well, now, that's something, it is," Undertaker put a hand to his chin in thought.
"I remembered that a man was luring women into alleys by saying he was selling roses," Haven recalled, her eyebrows furrowed together. "And... I got the impression that I knew him... Because I thought it was strange that he was selling roses from the park..."
"Now, don't think about it any longer, dearie," Undertaker hurriedly said, his voice somewhat strained. He suddenly pressed his fingers against her shoulders and pushed her back down against the cot. "Ya need to rest now, ya do. Don't harm yer mind by bringin' back painful memories."
"But- I need to remember them!" Haven insisted, allowing him to push her back against her bed to rest. "The more I remember, the closer we get to finding the man who's been killing all those girls! If I can help-"
"Sh," Undertaker shushed her gently. "Quiet, now. Gettin' all worked up like this'll bring back yer temperature, it will."
"But-" Haven started, feeling her muscles relax against the cot again.
"There'll be plenty o' time to remember, love," Undertaker added. "Rest for now."
As Haven closed her eyes again, she got two distinct impressions from Undertaker. One, he didn't want her remembering too much for some reason. He seemed so insistent that she not try to regain any of her memories... And two, he also seemed genuinely worried about her at the same time. His fingers were gentle as he pushed her back, and he always took such good care of her whenever her fever came back.
But... Why did her fever linger for so long? Why was she having these strange fevers to begin with?
Haven wasn't sure, but as she finally drifted back into unconsciousness, she was certain that she heard Undertaker sigh a breath of relief.
What in the world was going on...?