"Alice! Frances!"

A womans call cut through the summer breeze, as she lowered herself to the blanket beneath her, adjusting her gown as she kneeled. Her call immediately caught the attention of the girls, who, despite their captivating games, ran straight back to the blanket. Their laughter rang like bells through the park, as they too sat at the blanket under the willow tree, gaping at the small arrangement of sandwiches and sweets before them. Both the mother aswell as the two daughters shared the same features, light ash blonde hair that fell just barely above their wastes, although the mother kept hers up, and soft blue eyes.

Alice was the oldest of the two sisters, if only by a year. Although she was not particularly smarter then other girls her age, she had, frankly, seen too much, and heard too much, and after years of sticking her nose where it did not belong she believed herself to be far more knowledgeable than her peers. And she was right in this assumption, to some extent.

Frances, on the other hand, was far more naive in the affairs of adults, and often times crueler then her older sister, though it was anyones guess when this cruelty was intentional, or honest mistake. Alice's world revolved around her books, she was a girl who eagerly awaited the daily lessons from her governess. Her books, and of course her family.

From a young age she'd felt a maternal need to watch over her younger sister, aswell as seek the attention of their mother and father.

She smiled eagerly as she raised a cucumber sandwich to her mouth, ignoring the grabby hands of her sister as they dove for the tea cookies. Finally, their was the youngest sibling, who the girls had all but forgotten about on such an outing. Alice took a sip of her tea, looking over the edge of the cup at the carriage parked beside her mother.

It started over a year ago. That was the first time she'd seen her baby brother. Small, and frail, but peaceful in his mothers arms. Alice knew, however vaguely, the truth of her brothers birth. It was easier for Frances, not knowing. As far as she knew the stork had dropped him on their doorstep, nevermind their mothers months of pregnancy. Nobody would have known, though. The child looked just like his sisters did at that age, just like their mother. Had it not been for the fact that their, Alice and Frances', father was dead nobody would have had reason to doubt his lineage.

"Frances, don't eat the cakes quite yet."

The youngest sister pouted, pulling her hand away from the tray of sweets before turning away from her family to sulk with her doll. It was an elegant plaything, though it was handed down to her from Alice. Although she had one of her own, this one was her favorite, with it's curled, dark choclate, hair, and sapphire blue eyes. Alice hadn't found it amusing for that long, in truth there wasn't much to do with it. Brush its hair, fuss over its dress, it was all rather trivial to her... But Frances could think what she wanted.

"But Mummy-"

"Shush up, Frances."

"Alice! That isn't the way to talk to your sister."

The eldest sighed, though she did not respond. At these moments it was best to pick her tea cup back up, and drink. It gave her an excuse not to speak. Although this nice silence wouldn't last long before their mother would force an apology out or her, or before Frances began to babble about whatever took her fancy... Or, in this case, before Jizabel awoke, their mother being immediately distracted, and dropping the matter completely.

Alice was the first who would disappear.

------

Two hours had passed since Jizabel interrupted The Hermits work, clearing the table and gently setting down the doves cold body. Zenopia didn't care: Frankly, the doctors love of animals got in the way of his work, it was a hinderance... But he wouldn't say a word about it. Everyone had some passion, his being the medical field in general, and he didn't feel he had the right to argue over Disraelis.

Today was different, however... Given the condition of everyone in this organization, where did he find the right to call someone mad? For all he'd known, the bird had been breathing when the younger doctor picked it's tattered body off the ground, but that hadn't been the case for several minutes now. It was dead when he pushed Zenopia out of the way and set it on the table. It was dead when he attempted to put splints on several of it's broken limbs.

And it was dead two minutes later, when reality sunk it. Or, at least, when he admitted reality, and dropped it's mangled body down the rubbish chute... His expression as cold and heartless as always.

That expression that remained on his face when he sat down outside of the room, letting Zenopia return to his studies. The same blank expression he wore now, as he stared blankly at the tiles on the floor, the cracks in the walls, and the scars up his own arm.

Everything now was irrelevant. Cassian, the flock, Snark, everything he'd ever cared about were completely irrelevant to him.

There was hardly a week left, and it would all be over. It was best to get such distractions out of his way.

Cain was relevant. Death was relevant.

Distractions.

His fist clenched around the scalpel in his coat pocket, that last object that was keeping him connected to this room, to this whole world. To the naked eye he'd sunken back into his shell, to anyone who watched him as he looked on blankly to the peeling wallpaper across from him, he was completely lost by now.

This was not the case... Not entirely. He was lost, but he was also thinking. Surprisingly, that was something he hadn't done now in several months. He'd studied, he'd devised, but he'd hardly stop to think about himself, or the road ahead. Not since he first met Cain, and that fire, that hatred, was rekindled. Anything inbetween the hate and the angst was just Cassian carrying him, cushioning his falls... Something which only made the falls harder now that the support had been pulled away. Really, Cassian seemed no better then his father now...

And somehow, the future seemed alot less muddy, now that the clock was ticking down to the last last minute. He swallowed, turning his gaze to his own feet, the mud and flecks of blood splattered on his shoes, and the cracks in the tile. Something else just passed his train of thought:

The only thing that hadn't crossed his mind in the past hour was the present. And now, as he thought he'd found the will to leave the hall, and find something else to lose himself in, he realized that there simply was nowhere to go.

Back into that small, dingy room with Zenopia.

Or upstairs.

Upstairs with his father, and Riffael. Neither of whom he was up to facing. His job was down here, building the end of the world. Father was fine with Riffael, he was the new second favorite, afterall. Second Favorite, as Cain was always the priority.

He withdrew his hand from his pocket, resting his head in both of his hands and letting a sigh he'd been holding in for awhile escape his chapped lips.

If he added up the hours, the portion of his life where he had been the "second favorite" was minuscule. The Cardmaster was always finding new ways to entertain himself, and eventually this focus on Raffit would pass. And if it didn't pass, they'd all be dead soon anyway.

Jizabel smirked to himself. In a way, it was gratifying to know that no matter what they'd all face the same end, and that they all meant nothing. It was almost hilarious how Riffael actually believed he held the upper hand.

The upper hand? If anyone here is to hold all the cards, it's father...

Just a few more days. Time would be out for Delilah.

"...Disraeli?"

Jizabel lifted his head, his eyes clearing abit as he stared up at Zenopia, slightly astounded how he was hunched over so low in his seat that The Hermit was actually above him for once.

"Hmm?" The younger doctor responded, completely unaware as to just how run down he looked. He paused, brushing his hair away from his face, before noticing two bags on the floor next to Zenopia.

"Have you been out here this whole time?" Zenopia questioned, prodding haphazardly at the other mans affairs. He never did show any discretion.

"Yes," Jizabel replied, It was much more a statement then a response, he wasn't in the mood to talk about what had transpired the hour before. It was almost humiliating, in a way. His eye contact with Zenopia was only momentarily, before he turned his gaze back on the two bags, as if they'd move if he looked away. "...Where are you going, if I may ask?"

Again, his tone was blank, and the "if I may" was hardly sincere.

"Well, yes..." Zenopia paused, scratching his chin as if he'd been caught in the act, before following the doctors empty gaze to the bags, "...I suppose this puts a damper in my plans." He remarked, with a slight shrug.

"...You were leaving then?"

A silence fell between them, though Jizabel acted completely alright with this new revelation, Zenopia appeared far less at ease, with what seemed to be a twinge of guilt.

"....It's... Something I've wanted to do for a very long time."

"Then go."

A shocked expression came over Zenopia's face, and he gave a nervous look between Jizabel and the door at the end of the hall.

"Why are you still here? It isn't as if I care. No one leaves Delilah, however... When have I ever enforced these things...? Worry more about The Moon and The Tower..."

Zenopia swallowed, resting a hand on Jizabels shoulder.

"Well... Then...." He paused, digging something out from his pocket, and shoving it into the younger mans hand. "...If that's the case then, consider getting away from this place yourself."

Jizabel twitched ever so slightly as he looked down at the crumpled paper that had been set in his hand.

"... When I came here, it was to shine light on the mysteries of life, to make scientific advancements that would shake the country, the world even," he stopped, sighing, as he took a glance back through the open door of the lab. "...but then Delilah came to be, it was what we became... and I suppose the rest you know already."

Jizabel swallowed, reading over what looked like an address written on the parchment.

"I don't suppose I can change your mind but," Zenopia scratched his head, "...You're far too talented to just follow that man, if you do ever consider leaving..."

He tapped the paper that was in Jizabels hand. "...If you can't find me there, the old couple that live there should be able to tell you of my whereabouts. We may be able to work together."

"...You're correct," Jizabel paused, just long enough to give Zenopia hope, although he really wasn't meaning to. "...I most likely will stay here."

Zenopia rubbed his chin, before lifting the bags back up off the floor. "If you insist... I took most of my research notes, but I spent most of last night copying the ones that you needed for The Cardmasters little 'princess'..."

"Good," Jizabel responded dryly, crumpling the note back up and shoving it into the pocket of his labcoat. Strange, as far as he knew this was the first time Zenopia had been anything short of certifiable and odd. Really, he'd been rather insightful for once, it was actually a shame he was leaving... On the other hand, he was just one less person to grow attracted to, a mistake he would not let happen a third time. By then, Zenopia had made it down the hall way, but he paused at the door, turning back to Jizabel with his usual joyous expression back on.

"Well, I've always been one to explain everything, even the work we've done here, in a logical light. 'Never believed in that tarot nonsense, but last I looked into it 'Death' was merely a card of change, and not disaster..... Just something worth thinking about."

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving a rather dumbfounded doctor in his wake.

One more out of the picture.

---

Riffael stepped out from the room silently, passing down the hall back towards the Cardmasters chambers... followed ten minutes later by Jizabel, who was still buttoning his shirt, ignoring his blood as it soaked through and stained the fabric.

"My god, I really can't believe you did that!"

Jizabel glared, as the arsonist leaned his arm against the wall, his other hand at his side, carelessly twirling a match between his fingers.

"It would be one thing if you'd taken away the prize and killed him there, but letting him go? What are planning?" He smirked, striking the match and continuing to play with it, creating a small, and short lived, light show. "...Would you let me in on it?"

Jizabel glared daggers at him, as he buttoned the front of his vest.

"All my previous assistants knew when best to keep quite," He remarked, drawing a ribbon from his pants pocket and pulling his hair back, before making his way down the hallway and back to the main hall. The arsonist smirked, tipping his hat forward abit before casually strolling towards his superior.

"Really? You didn't object with that last one, Did you?" Jizabel froze, turning on heel to face the younger man. The pyromaniac smiled, before laughing rather obnoxiously to himself. "Well, that got your attention, eh? You right out-"

He choked on his last words, finding himself pinned against the wall for a good second before he grasped what had happened. There was a peculiar gleam in Jizabels eyes, as he pressed his scalpel against the mans neck. "Now, now..." A nervous chuckle escaped his throat, as he stretched his arm across the wall, attempting the get a grip on a candelabrum that rested on a pedestal beside the door. Needless to say, Jizabel countered this, pulling the scalpel away from his neck and jabbing it into his forearm, getting a pained yelp in response.

"Don't try."

"Heh... Really... You must be thinking right now..." He swallowed, a bead of sweat dropping from his forehead, "...What the bloody hell did you do to wind up with me... righ'? ...So you're going to kill me...? I'm as low as your little errand boys can get, do you really want to see what kind of man The Cardmaster would use to replace me...?"

In reality, he was just stalling. But he was rather bright, and he knew full well he had slipped up. Now it was just time to use it to his advantage. Afterall, in this line of work, leverage kept one alive. "...Well.... Aren't you going to ask...?" He snickered, before clawing against the grip Jizabel still had on his throat. "...Or, would you rather we go do the things you did with your last partner."

The scalpel slid back up, pressing into his neck just enough to draw blood.

"This is the only time I will ask you... How did you know?" He loosened his grip slightly, giving the man beneath him room to breath and talk.

"...Heh...I didn't know, it was assumption... Assumption that you just confirmed," The Doctors breath hitched in his throat, as The Arsonist rubbed his, now free, neck. "...Well, well, I suppose you just let something slip too. We're even."

"...You arrived here several days after Cassians departure. Even if you had been here earlier, at your level as a trump card you would not have even been allowed in the same wing of this building as the higher cards. If there's one small sin that rarely transpires here it is idle gossip, nobody told you of him.... How long have you really been here?"

Despite Jizabels monotonous tone, there was murder in his eyes, as he took a step closer to the young man, backing him further against the wall.

"Well, wouldn't you like to know that..." He froze, biting his tongue as Jizabel slid the scalpel towards his face again, this time suspiciously close to his eye.

"They are your only good features, you know...." He smiled as The arsonist squirmed against him, following that natural instinct to get as far from the blade as possible. "...And even with that.... They are rather dull."

"Alright! ...It's been a few months now, I'm actually disappointed you didn't catch on sooner.... but 'ey, one can't have everything." He twitched slightly, as the doctor loosened his grip a final time, this time sliding his scalpel back in his pocket.

"I never want to see you here again."

"...Too bad," The man snickered, " ...he wants to see you again."

Jizabels eyes widened, and he took a step back, the prats words striking a wrong chord. That last out of tune and broken chord that wasn't supposed to be played again.

"...'Said something about your delusional fantasies and a half-thought plan. Heheh, take care."

And with that he strolled out of the room, as casually as he had walked in.

----

Augh, short chapter is short, I'm sorry. And about the cliffhanger-ish-ness..... Ahhh.... it's not what you think, I swear it. xD;;

No, actually, it's me digging my own grave by slightly changing a once solid plotline. I'm not all that pleased with this chapter but, I'll live.

Big shout out to Sorryll. Also, a shoutout to a certain boymanthing that didn't appear in this chapter. ;-;