The Edelfelt manor was bustling again today.

Shirou watched through his front window as Miss Bazett and the pale school nurse, the one that always gave him the creeps, stalked up the front walkway. Rin greeted them at the door, dressed in her casual clothes rather than a maid uniform, and grimly motioned them inside.

The green double doors slammed behind them. They had already swallowed his parents and sisters ten minutes ago, followed by Sella and Leysritt carrying a number of oddly-wrapped and heavy-looking parcels. His offer to accompany them, or at least take a little weight off their hands, had been firmly rebuked with a reminder that he was supposed to be doing his homework.

Shirou blew through his unruly bangs as his shoulders dropped, fingers trailing on the glass.

He couldn't help them. Just like he hadn't been able to help Illya when she'd finally returned after their fight that day, with a plastered smile and brittle eyes that hurt, seeing them on his little sister's face. The best he'd been able to offer was a hug and a reheated meal, and a willingness to pretend that nothing had happened.

It hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. Much of the same feeling crept over him as he stared at the drawn curtains of the manor, imagining the people gathered inside.

Pretend that everything was fine. That he believed the flimsy excuse his parents had given for heading over to Luvia's, that they were arranging a tutor for his sisters and Miyu to make up for a month's worth of missing schoolwork.

Miyu, who had become 'unavailable' at exactly the same time as his sisters disappeared, and who rarely seemed to leave the mansion since her return. Who greeted him politely but distantly when she did come to fetch Illya away, as if it hurt to look at him too for long.

Tutoring. He couldn't help but think back on some of the odder requests they'd made of him over the years. The clubs his mother had insisted he try out, the sudden errands they'd sent him for. How many times had they lied to keep him out of the way? To keep him safe?

His hand curled into a fist, nails biting hard into his palm.

Whatever they had done, it clearly hadn't worked for Chloe and Illya. The latter's strange behavior over the last few months now made rather too much sense.

Pretend. That was all he could do.

Sighing, feeling utterly defeated, he turned away from the window and cast a morose eye over the living room. The math textbook awaited him on the table, but he didn't think he'd be able to concentrate on problems right now. The shelf of manga and sports equipment in his room held little appeal at the moment, either.

Chores, then. Something easy and mindless, so he could feel productive while he waited for his family to return. Hoping that this time, they might let him in. He shook his head. Laundry seemed about as much as he could manage.

Glad to have a plan, even one that didn't solve any of his real problems, he fetched the dirty laundry basket from the upstairs closet. It looked about half-full, enough to fit a few more shirts in. He didn't have any more in need of washing himself, but maybe their guest did.

His knuckles rapped on her door. "Miss Ainsworth? Are you there?"

Something about her demeanor encouraged formality, even when she was chopping onions or wrist-deep in batter. But he'd been so grateful to have her in the kitchen that night, and the handful of times since that she'd accepted his invitation, that he'd gotten used to it without a hitch.

"Yes, I am here." There was a brief sound of movement before she opened the door, face politely neutral—or was that a glimmer of interest in cobalt blue eyes? "Is there something I may assist you with?"

"Laundry." He tilted the basket in his hands towards her. "Did you have anything to add to the pile?"

She considered the crumpled clothes within for a moment before frowning. "You propose running them through a machine."

"Uh, yeah. Your stuff is hand wash only, I take it?"

A solemn nod. "On pain of death, in the case of the sweater."

Shirou smiled, glad to know she had a sense of humor underneath it all. "Gotcha. Borrowed it from your sister, huh?"

"I do not have a sister, and it was a gift. However, Miss Edelfelt was very definite as to my fate should I commit another atrocity against fashion."

Shirou waited for the rueful smirk that should have accompanied that sort of remark. But either Angelica had perfected the deadpan, or she was entirely serious. He had only known her a week, but he was pretty sure it was the latter.

"That sounds like Luvia," he finally offered. "Then let me know if you need any kind of special detergent for it. Unless Leysritt's taken care of it already?"

"I… I am not sure," she said, her shoulders drawing in as if she'd confessed to a misdeed. "I usually delegated such work to the other servants."

Other servants. He'd pictured her as an ojousama from her fine clothes and her aristocratic features, but that fit a lot better with the aura of deference she carried with her. Somehow it helped put him a little more at ease.

"No problem," he said, putting the basket down at his feet. "Bring the shirts over. We'll look at the tags and figure out what to do for each."

She nodded and headed back into her room, leaving the door ajar. Shirou caught a glimpse of a spotless carpet and a neatly made bed as she pulled open a drawer and returned with a single armful of clothing.

Two shirts he'd already seen on her, a black skirt, some kind of sheer blouse with a lot of pleats and ruffles, a sweater that made him blush when he realized how little material composed its back, and… was that his father's coat? But he was sure he'd seen it on the old man's shoulders just now, when he'd headed over to the manor.

"Here." She held them out for his inspection.

"Thanks." He quickly checked the tags, noting that the coat seemed rather more torn than he remembered. A different one after all. "Okay, that shouldn't be too hard to handle. Except for, ah…" He gestured at the sweater, reluctant to touch it given the small flush of red it put in his cheeks. "Is that wool?"

"I believe so. Miss Tohsaka referred to it as a virgin killer, if that helps."

"...ah."

"I prefer to wear it with the coat. It is not very warm."

"I don't think that's the, uh…" He awkwardly cleared his throat. "A-anyway! We can start with these for now, and do the rest later."

"There is nothing more."

Blinking, he looked from the bundle in her arms to the basket. He went through more clothing in a week than she had to her name.

"That's really it?" he asked gently.

"Is it a problem?" Her gray-blue eyes held no trace of impatience, only the attentiveness of a servant seeking direction."I do not perform much in the way of physical labor at the moment, and the apron you provided protects me when we cook. This is entirely sufficient for my needs."

"Ah, no. It's just…" He scratched his cheek. "I thought, since you're friends with Luvia and Rin, and they go pretty crazy for clothes…" The tiny furrow in her golden brow made him stop. "You aren't friends, are you?"

"No."

The answer didn't surprise him. Nor did the absence of anger or sadness, or any other kind of emotional cue. It struck him as lonely, but then Angelica seemed to largely prefer being alone.

Though she'd joined him in the kitchen anyway that night, for his sake. That brought some warmth to his heart, and with it a determination to return the favor.

"Alright, but it doesn't seem like a lot if you're going to be staying a while. Especially when the weather gets cold." He didn't like to push, but the coat looked like it would hang too loosely on her frame to trap much heat, and the rest of the clothes looked pretty thin or… well, designed with other priorities in mind.

"Cold." Her eyes strayed somewhere over her shoulder. "Does it snow here, too?"

"Not often," he admitted. "But sometimes, on really cold days. And the wind can get pretty nasty."

A shiver ran down her shoulders, so small he would have missed it had his attention not been focused on her. When the blue eyes turned to him again, they were once again stony.

"There would be no purpose in these circumstances. My situation is unlikely to persist long enough for it to become an issue.. Even if it does, these clothes would serve adequately. It would only be a matter of discomfort."

"But... that doesn't make any sense!" Shirou spread his hands. "Why be uncomfortable if you don't have to be?"

"It is immaterial to my d… it is immaterial."

Irritation flashed through him, then swiftly gave way to pity. He'd met kids like this at school sometimes, though never to this extreme. Kids who were afraid to take up space, because they'd been told so many times that they should disappear. His heart went out to her.

"Hey, listen…" he began, absently brushing the hair from his eyes, trying to choose his words. "I'd feel a lot better if you had some clothes you enjoy wearing, okay? So let's go pick some out. As a favor to me."

"That would be difficult. I do not have any funds."

He should have guessed from the way she seemed to drift through the days, unmoored and adrift from the world around them. That feeling of pity intensified, until he remembered that this, at least, he could do something about.

"So you need to find work? I can help you with that."

She eyed him. "A position in this house? I do not think you need the additional hands… or did you mean another clan?"

"Ah, not exactly. Not as a maid or anything." He scratched his cheek. "There's a place in southern Shintou, Copenhagen. They mostly sell imported alcohol—beer and wine and stuff—but they run a pub at night, too. Neko won't let me staff it because I'm too young, but she might let you."

"A pub," she said, seemingly turning the word over in her mouth, and Shirou winced. Right, someone of her breeding had better things to do than hang out in bars, even one as nice as Neko's.

"Nevermind, it was a dumb idea—"

"And what…" she went on, those blue eyes searching his face. "What kind of work would that entail?"

An involuntary sigh of relief escaped his lips before he could stop it. At least he hadn't offended his… it was too early to think of her as a friend, even if they seemed to be getting along, but definitely an acquaintance.

"Nothing too complicated. Pouring drinks, tracking orders and payments, a bit of cleaning. Mostly they need you to be patient and reliable. And Neko will be thrilled you can cook, too."

Angelica folded a knuckle over her mouth. He had an odd but definite feeling she was doing it for his sake, so he knew she was still considering it. Just what had her old home been like?

"Reliability may be an issue. I cannot say how long I will be here."

Shirou shrugged. "I don't mean in terms of committing to a year or anything—bar jobs tend to be pretty casual for that, it's why they'll let even a high schooler like me work there part time. I mean that you show up on time for your shifts, call in when you can't make it. That sort of thing."

Angelica considered it a moment longer, then caught his eye and nodded. "Very well. I would like to try this work. But first, I must ask for permission."

Shirou lifted a brow. "Permission? Permission from who?"


The Edelfelt dining table could seat more than two dozen people, although there were currently only seven assembled around it. Angelica sat impassively by Emiya's side as his voice rang over the polished oak surface, doing his best to persuade an impromptu committee arrayed on the other side. A committee composed of Edelfelt, McRemitz, the Emiya matriarch and her two daughters.

"It's the same set of regular patrons, and they're all good people," said Emiya. "Besides, Neko will definitely keep an eye out until Miss Ainsworth gets the feel of it. I really think it could work."

That didn't seem like a shared opinion, given the frowns appearing on the committee's faces with various degrees of subtlety. While only the slightest crease in Edelfelt's brow betrayed her skepticism, McRemitz was openly scowling at the boy with her fists curled on the table. Chloe reserved her hostility for Angelica herself, shooting her dark glares in contrast with the apologetic looks from a visibly uncomfortable Illya.

Angelica felt neither surprised nor disappointed. The prospect of employment vaguely appealed to her as a means of making herself useful, one that was disconnected from the coming apocalypse. From the painful choice she would need to make. But the committee couldn't see inside her mind, and would naturally be skeptical of her intentions. A tight leash was only to be expected.

"Thank you, Sherou." Edelfelt gave him a warm smile, one the boy gratefully returned, then clapped her hands and looked around the table. "Opinions, then."

"Yeah, no. I won't allow her to wander the city alone at night." McRemitz only glanced at Angelica, but it was impossible to miss the deliberate skim of fingers over the back of one glove.

Emiya nodded, as if he'd been expecting this. "I understand, but there are early shifts she can take until she gets the lay of the land. Besides, if you trust me to walk home from there on weekday nights," he jabbed a finger towards his chest, "then Miss Ainsworth shouldn't be a problem."

"I'm not entirely sure I am comfortable with that, Shirou." His mother closed her eyes and sighed. "It was simply difficult to forbid you while your father and I were abroad—"

McRemitz loudly cleared her throat.

"—but we can discuss that later," said the matriarch smoothly. "For now, I'll simply say that as Miss Ainsworth's hosts, we're happy to help with anything she might need. That includes helping her find employment to suit her needs."

"What she needs is to stop being such a headache," sighed Chloe, slouching over the table.

"Chloe!" Illya frowned at her sister, then looked around the table. "I understand why everyone's scared. But Angelica's been really nice!"

"Pfft, only because she hasn't gotten a chance not to be," drawled the other girl. "You trust way too easily, Illya."

"Maybe." Illya looked away for a moment before she met Chloe's gaze again, resolved. "But I was right to trust you."

Chloe slapped a hand on the table. "That's not the same, and you know it!"

"Ahem." Edelfelt straightened in her seat, tilting her chin at a confident angle that would have had Angelica's dimly remembered tutors nodding in approval. "Then if it is a matter of needing funds, the solution is obvious. I shall take Miss Ainsworth on as a maid. She can only be an improvement over a certain barbarian."

The sudden slap of Emiya's palm on the table jolted even Angelica a little, he'd been so quiet. The six gazes trained on him didn't stop him from waving a hand around the room. "Come on, Luvia! You don't need another maid, this place is already spotless!"

"Sherou—"

"And it's not your place to decide for her, anyway!" There was red in his face now, and a hard look in his eye. "What if she wants to see another part of Fuyuki? She's been here for over a week now, and she's barely left the house!"

She hadn't at all, but Angelica did not correct him. She wasn't sure if it would help or hinder the case he seemed determined to make on her behalf.

"If that's the problem…" McRemnitz's mouth twisted as if she were speaking around a mouthful of lemons. "Then she can assist in my jobs, since somebody," she shot Edelfelt a dark look, "will insist on collecting debts even with wolves at her door. She'll end up seeing half the city if she sticks with me."

"That's not the problem!" Emiya shouted, rising from his chair. "It's that you're all... treating her like she's got no say-so. Like she has to do whatever you decide on!"

She did, as was right and proper for a prisoner of war. Yet the faces around the table grew strained, with Illya even averting her gaze towards the doorway.

The silence seemed to weigh heavily on Emiya, judging from the stricken look on his face. Pleadingly he turned towards his mother. "You called her our guest. So why are you all treating her as your prisoner?"

Silence reigned, as tense as strung razor-wire.

"Shirou, please…" said Irisviel eventually, her fair brows heavy over her eyes. "I know how things must look. But the situation is complicated. Please trust that we're doing the best we can in difficult circumstances."

His shoulders visibly stiffened as he stared around the table. "The best you can for her?" he demanded, gesturing towards Angelica. "Or for yourselves?"

Chloe's chair rattled loudly on the floor as she sprung from it. "Don't you start, Onii-chan! This isn't some stupid power trip!"

"Then what?" He looked at each of them in turn, beseeching them with his eyes. "Please, help me understand!"

Another silence descended, heavier than before. Most of the committee looked away from him, finding sudden interest in the ceiling or the whorls of the polished oak. Illya looked distraught, her fists trembling in her lap and her lips pressed in a thin line, a barrier against words and tears alike.

Angelica felt an uncomfortable prickle in her spine as Emiya seemed to deflate under their troubled gazes. She felt no more strongly on the matter of her employment than before, but something about the defeated slant of the boy's mouth gave her pause.

Even if his reasons felt entirely opaque to her, Emiya had clearly taken her corner. While that objectively shouldn't matter, a lost echo in the gray haze whispered that it did. That she should respond to such a sentiment.

The echo grew louder when she spotted the tears rolling down Illya's face. It compelled her to her feet and set her tongue in motion.

"If I may have permission to speak." The surprised glances thrown her way didn't seem to matter, not compared to the brightening of Emiya's eyes. "Whatever you may think of me, I wish to be useful. Young Master Emiya believes that I may be suited to this task despite my deficiencies." She bowed her head a polite distance. "Although I can no longer swear upon the great name of Ainsworth, I promise to do no harm while I am there."

Even with her head down, she could sense the gazes being exchanged across the table.

"They do say that idle hands are the devil's work," observed Edelfelt at last. "And since we will certainly emerge victorious, we should give some thought to her integration."

"Tch!" Chloe folded her arms behind her head and slouched back into her chair. "I guess it's better than having her sitting around the house all the time. I want my TV spot back."

The Emiya matriarch gave her the patient smile of indulgent mothers the world over, then turned to her other daughter. Her expression softened when she saw Illya hastily wiping away her tears and smiling.

"Is it alright, Miss Bazett?" she said, looking towards the last of their party.

The redhead cracked her knuckles and sighed. "Not really. But I don't have a better solution, so go ahead."

The tension slowly ebbed from Emiya's frame as the others nodded. His grimace gave way to a relieved smile. "That's good. Thank you."

Angelica felt some of the stiffness in her own shoulders dissipate at the sight. That was… nice. It felt nice, to see that smile on his face and know she had helped put it there.

Her doll's body felt somehow lighter as she watched the boy making his way around the table towards Illya. He made it only a few steps before a little shake of the girl's head brought him to a halt. She mouthed something at him, her eyes still a bit wet, then pointed towards Angelica. He followed her gesture, hesitated a moment, then nodded and returned to the blonde's side.

"Shall we go, then?" Grinning at her, he waved towards the door. "If we head over now, we should be able to catch Neko before she turns it over to Hanahagi for the night."

She nodded, coaxed by his grin and that odd lightness in her chest. "That would be fine."

Together they walked out through the double doors of the dining room onto the tiled floors of the great hall. The moment they were out of sight, Emiya let his shoulders drop in clear relief.

"Phew. Not going to lie, that felt more like being on trial than anything else." His fingers pulled carelessly through his hair as they walked, then fell away as he met Angelica's eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I am not unwell."

At least, she didn't think so. If anything, she felt… pleased. Yes, she was pleased.

"Hah, glad to hear it. Because honestly, I'm still shaking a bit in my boots. God, I've never seen Luvia look so serious. She's always smiling and cheerful at school, so to see her like that…" He shook his head.

Angelica pursed her lips. "That is the proper demeanour for an interrogation."

"That's just it." His eyes looked almost haunted as they reached the manor's entryway. "Luvia, my mom… my little sisters, conducting an interrogation. Realizing that's what today was. It's…" He sighed as he pulled off the slippers and reached for his shoes. "It's a lot to take in, honestly."

Angelica frowned as she followed suit, slipping on the brown boots that were her only footwear. No echo this time to guide her, but… "Are you okay?"

It was out of protocol, but it felt… right. Correct, in a way that went beyond ticking the requisite checkbox.

Amber eyes momentarily widened, then creased in gratitude. "Honestly… no, not really. But I'm glad I was able to help you with this."

"Yes. I am glad too."

Glad. She turned the word over in her mouth, and found that she liked it.

The sky was deep blue when they walked out onto the street, illuminated by the bright glow of street lamps. Angelica found her eyes continually drifting upwards as she followed Emiya over sidewalks and crossings, nodding as he pointed out the various street signs so she would be able to navigate later. The empty expanse felt strange. In her world, the sky would have been shrouded by white flakes of snow, falling gently but relentlessly to melt on the bare skin of her exposed shoulders.

This world was far warmer, the breeze in her hair soothingly cool instead of bitter cold. Why then was she shivering?

"Hey, are you cold? I guess we should have stopped and gotten your coat from the house." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. I was so eager to show you Copenhagen that I didn't really think."

"It is fine. I am used to operating at much lower temperatures."

"Heh. Somehow I thought you'd say that."

A red light brought him to a pause at the sidewalk's edge. Angelica took a few steps into the road before catching herself and returning to his side, so that the worried look on his face smoothed over. She was not used to considering traffic signs and directions. They had long since lost all meaning in the Fuyuki she knew.

She looked expectantly at him when the light turned green, but he made no move to cross. Instead he briefly chewed the inside of his cheek, then looked at her. "Hey, Miss Ainsworth?"

"Yes?" Her eyes drifted between him and the road spread in front of them.

"I know I say this a lot to you, but… I'm sorry."

The puzzled tilt of her head made him sigh. "I was mad at mom and the others for making decisions for you, but… well, I'm kind of doing that right now, too." His gaze strayed towards the tall buildings on the other side of the river, a familiar sight made alien to her by the yellow-bright squares of their lit windows. "You got three job offers tonight, and I railroaded you into the one I wanted for you. Luvia's really nice, and Miss Bazett… well, she's got some rough spots, but I know she's a good person. If you wanted to work for one of them instead, I'd understand."

Angelica gave a small shake of her head. "Please do not be concerned. I am certain that this is the best option for me."

His eyebrows made a hopeful arch. "Yeah?"

"You carefully considered my suitability for this position, including taking my limitations into account."

"I wouldn't say limitations—"

"What is more, you are willing to personally vouch for me. That you would stake your clan's honor on my success means a great deal."

"My clan, huh?" His hands briefly balled into fists before relaxing. "Sure doesn't feel like that these days."

Angelica remembered the seating back in the dining room, Emiya on one side, his family shoulder to shoulder with outsiders on the other as his inquisitors. An unthinkable scene among the Ainsworth, where duty transcended anything as petty as personal ambition or conscience. She—the woman, not the doll—had accepted it as the price of belonging, and willingly wrapped herself in that heavy cloak.

But the woman died and Julian stripped away the cloak from the broken doll that remained, leaving it exposed to the blizzard. She considered the boy walking by her side, hands firmly stuffed in his trouser pockets. Would he do the same, should Angelica prove unfit for Copenhagen after all?

He would not.

There were many objective reasons to believe it. His obvious banishment to the outer ring of the family's operations, despite what should be an exalted position as the only son. The lack of any magic circuits or talent that Angelica's honed senses could discern in him, which suggested that he could not afford to discard any tool, however damaged.

An odd shiver ran down Angelica's neck when she realized none of those reasons formed the basis of her certainty. She was simply rationalizing the airy warmth that spread through her when she thought of soft amber eyes and a gentle smile.

Julian's eyes were gentle once, too. They aren't anymore.

The wind felt cold against her cheek as they trudged along. They passed by the narrow mouth of an alley, the bulky squares of dumpsters and bins just visible in the shadows.

People change. He may too.

That was no matter. She was broken when he'd offered her his palm. It would not matter if he returned her to the junk heap in a similar state.

No, I would be more damaged than ever. A twitch of pain in her chest that she couldn't name. I would have lost something.

The gray haze would engulf her once more, silent and empty. As empty as a world of drifting snow.

She shivered again.

"Wow, you really must be cold." The boy's eyes creased in sympathy as he looked her over. "You don't have to tough it out, you know?"

"It is fine," she insisted, feeling an unfamiliar heat cut into her tongue with the last word. "Turning back now would waste the energy you have already expended on guiding me."

And she wouldn't see Copenhagen, or see Emiya at work there. That was… less than optimal. Unacceptable, even.

"We aren't far now, true," he reluctantly conceded as they waited for another light to turn. "But it's going to be even colder on the way back. I just wish I'd brought my jacket."

"If it troubles you, I shall bring my coat in the future."

And court Edelfelt's annoyance, after the latter had snidely declared it unfit for public consumption even in such a hinterland. Why had she not thought of that before speaking?

His relieved smile drove it from her mind. "Thanks, that does make me feel better. But it doesn't solve that you're cold now, so…" He snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that could work! It's not too far from here, and stores stay open later in Shintou."

The eager spring was back in his step as he veered them off towards a smaller street. The buildings opened into brightly-lit storefronts, their glass doors entirely pristine. Angelica looked at them in muted wonder before Emiya swept her along into a clothing store.

"Take a look while we're here." Ignoring the curious glances thrown their way from the other patrons, he swept an arm to encompass the hanging rows of shirts and dresses. "We can come back another time if you see anything you like."

Angelica nodded, unsure of what else to do. Seemingly cheered by her agreement, Emiya headed deeper into the store.

A saleswoman tentatively approached her for help finding anything, then politely backed away when Angelica told her she had no money. The blonde could feel the woman's curious eyes roaming over her as she considered the shirts on the rack before her.

Emiya had asked her to look for clothing that she liked. But what criteria should she use to assess whether a particular garment pleased her? They all seemed largely the same in terms of function, barring a few differences in thickness or coverage. None of them were suitable for a great house's servant, so that did not seem like the appropriate criteria. Tohsaka had said—shouted—something about fit and style in her ear at one point, but Angelica couldn't see how that applied when they all hung loosely on the rack.

She had made no headway when Emiya returned, holding something long and brown in his arms. "Found anything?"

"I do not know," she answered honestly.

"Don't worry. It's just one store, there's a ton of others you should look at before deciding what you want to buy. In the meantime, here!"

He grabbed the brown garment by the shoulders and shook it out, letting the fabric sweep down in a flourish. The coat was about the same length as the torn one Angelica already owned, but broader in the hips and narrower in the shoulders.

"Ta-da!" Grinning, he held it out towards her. "Here, try it on."

Her fingers closed over the coat, noting its thin scratchy texture before tugging it on. She considered how it fell from her arms, brushed her hand over the small plastic buttons.

"What do you think? Shirou's mouth gave a little twitch when she rubbed a loose strand from the end of the sleeve between her fingers. "I'm sorry it's a bit on the cheap side. I wasn't expecting to do any shopping, so I didn't have much cash on me. But this kind of polyester blend is warm, and it only needs to last until we get you something better."

She dropped the strand and folded her hands experimentally into the pockets. They would not hold up to any significant weight, whether tools or weapons. Unfit for use.

Straightening up, she found Emiya waiting patiently for her verdict, a tentative hope in his smile.

Hope and warmth, and again the words came before she even considered them.

"I like it," she said, pulling the coat close around herself. "Thank you."

His smile bloomed.

"I'm glad."