Disclaimer: Black Butler is owned by Yana Toboso. I'm just playing in her colorful world.

The sky was just turning a light gray when Aria stood up from her chair to stretch and look out of her solitary window. A low mist was rolling along the ground and absolutely everything was still. Vaguely, she wondered what time it was. Birds cawed in the distance as she went to freshen up. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night, deciding instead to finish the blueprints for her battery prototype, which she had, by the by. Still, a break was definitely called for.

Washing up and changing into a fresh dress, Aria felt more at peace with herself then she had in the last few days. Finally, she had accomplished something that would bring about a change in the game. With her prototype, Undertaker would finally have what he wanted, and may just be prompted into going out in the open. Though hopeful that her device would never be put into practice, she was nonetheless proud of her intellectual labors. It was a clever solution to Undertaker's problem, and she had no doubt that he would be satisfied.

Flicking her hair off of her shoulders, she sat down and began brushing her chocolate locks, pinning them in a neat up-do. Yawning at her lack of sleep, she began cleaning off the lens of her spectacles, placing them back on the bridge of her nose when she was finished. These things accomplished, she started looking around for her pocket watch in an effort to determine the time. When her fingers brushed against its metal casing, she pulled it out and popped it open. Just past five thirty in the morning.

Mildly impressed with her long night, she closed her notebook filled with manic scribblings and minute calculations. Was it too early to go down to the laboratory? She supposed, given the time of day, nobody would be down there, yet there was absolutely nothing for her to do. Really, the only thing the day called for was presenting her plan to Undertaker.

Given how eccentric the mortician was, perhaps he would already be at work. Who was to say? Tired of wandering around her room without purpose, Aria grabbed her notebook and headed out, bound for Undertaker's underground laboratory.

As expected of Stoneheart, everything was quiet and all of the employees were invisible. Because it was so early in the morning, Aria could pretend the stillness was due to the hour, but she knew better. Honestly, she couldn't wait to leave this place.

A woman on a mission, she made her way down the familiar steps to the lowest level of the asylum, to tired and focused to ponder the existence of vengeful spirits beyond the veil. When her feet finally hit rough ground, she went directly to the laboratory door and knocked. No one answered. Disappointed, she tried the handle and, finding it unlocked, swung the door open.

The room was dark and empty. Clearly the Undertaker was not in. Giving a sigh, she flipped the light switch, listening to the hum of the electricity as the power came on, illuminating the room in its unnatural glow. Everything was pretty much as she had left it the night before. The body was still laid out on the table, strapped down for good measure. Aria could perceive the slight rise and fall of the man's chest as he slept, and suddenly had no idea what to do. Was it rude to wake a sleeping corpse? These were questions she never thought she would have to ask herself. Well, she supposed resurrecting a corpse was rude in an of itself.

Rude, however, seemed a gross understatement.

Right as she was about to leave the undead man to his solitary slumber, she heard a footfall behind her and turned to see the man she had been searching for.

"Aria?" he questioned, looking confused. "What are you doing here this morning. It's not quite six yet."

"I know, but I simply couldn't wait," she said, holding up her notebook as though it explained everything.

Thankfully, Undertaker got the idea.

"You've already come up with something?" he asked, excitement creeping into his voice.

Aria nodded solemnly. "I hoped to show you my blueprints as soon as possible. I stayed up all night working on them."

Undertaker gave a look of bemusement. "You mean to say you've been up all night? Not even a thought of sleep?"

"Oh, I thought of sleep, to be sure," Aria corrected, holding back yet another yawn, "but I couldn't bring myself to act upon it. I was too caught up by my work."

"Well, that certainly sounds like you," Undertaker commented, grinning. "Please, show me these plans which warranted such dedication."

She did as he asked and opened her notebook, taking him step by step through her reasoning and method of design. He listened attentively, nodding at pertinent points and asking questions when necessary. When Aria finished her explanation, Undertaker stood thinking for a while before slowly nodding his approval.

"This is a wonderful idea, Aria," he enthused, patting her head like a child's.

She ducks out of his reach and smiles. "Marvelous," she says. "So all we need now are the supplies to build a prototype."

Undertaker nodded. "All you need do is clean up your work and begin building your device. You can go out for supplies whenever your design is completely finished."

"Of course," Aria agreed, closing her notebook and placing it under her arm. "Tell me, Undertaker, would you mind coming with me for supplies?"

The man chuckled good-humoredly, but shook his head in the negative. "I'm afraid it wouldn't be the best for me to leave the asylum at this time. What I'm doing isn't exactly legal, you see."

Aria frowned. "My part in it hardly is either. Besides, what is the point of building something for your experiments if you won't know how to build it yourself? I won't be with you forever, you know. I have an actual job out there in the real world."

Undertaker was unrelenting. "I'm sorry, my dear, but you can teach me how to build it right here after you've gathered all of the supplies. There will be no need for me to leave."

Dr. Sinclair rolled her eyes. "You are absolutely impossible. This trip is going to be so boring by myself. Furthermore, you should know where to pick up the supplies. Going out to get them yourself can only benefit you. Anyway, how many people do you think are going to recognize you? As far as I'm aware, nobody knows that you've done anything outside the bound of the law. What, are you afraid of being arrested?"

After her impassioned argument, Undertaker couldn't help but laugh. "Just admit it, Aria my dear. All you want is for me to come with you. Poor thing may have a boring carriage ride without this poor old-timer there to amuse her! How about we strike a deal? I'll send Dr. Carmichael with you. You'll have a right old time!"

"Don't you dare!" the doctor threatened, looking as though she was going to throttle the man before her. This only tickled him further.

"All right, all right," Undertaker giggled, waving her away, "I won't send our dear friend Carmichael with you, but do you really want me to go that badly?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Aria said, looking beseechingly up at him.

He gave a sigh of defeat and then smiled. "Very well. I'll go with you to pick up your precious supplies, but only after you have presented me with a completely finished project. Do we have a deal?"

Deciding that was as good as it was going to get, Aria agreed, sticking out her hand for a shake. Undertaker took it, and they sealed their pact.

"When do you think you'll be able to show me your finished plans?" the mortician asked, looking down at her.

"Tonight, I hope," she returned, earning a snicker from him.

"So confident, are we?"

"I thought you said you needed this done relatively quickly. I can delay my work for a couple of days if it so pleases you."

"No need for that," he assured her, moving toward the laboratory door. "Just don't kill yourself in the process."

"I'll try not to," she replied, exiting the laboratory as he waved her away.

Attempting to repress her palpable relief at the progress in their plans, Aria made her way back up the stairs and out of the dank atmosphere of the basement.

The closer she came to the ground floor, the more exhausted she became. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, and her yawns were becoming so excessive it was verging on impolite. When she finally reached the surface, she immediately found the closest staircase leading to the upper levels, fully intending to drop by William and Sebastian's room to inform them of the advancement in their plans before heading to her own and indulging in a well deserved nap.

As she reached the first storey landing and rounded the corner, she nearly collided with a person heading the opposite direction. Taking a step back, she let out an "Oh my!", narrowly avoiding running the man over. Though, to be quite honest, she highly doubted she would have been able to knock William down even had she kept going.

"In a hurry, are we?" William inquired, wide-eyed.

Aria let out a faint laugh. "I suppose you could say that. I was just going to seek out you and Sebastian, though it looks like it would have been a fruitless endeavor. Why are you up so early?"

"We decided that it was high time to at least look like we were doing what we had been hired to do, so we volunteered to help Mrs. Holly with her breakfast fare. The demon doesn't sleep, and I'm used to being up this early, so it is no bother."

Now that he had gotten a chance to look at her, his brow furrowed in concern. "You look like you haven't slept at all."

"That's because I haven't." She shrugged as though the revelation was of little consequence. "I found myself unable to lie down last night, so I began working on a prototype for Undertaker. That's actually what I came to see you about. I was up till the early hours of this morning finishing my idea, and I have just returned from the man's laboratory, where I showed him the blueprints I have thus far. Thankfully, he agreed to accompany me to London to fetch supplies after I have given him a finished design. It took a little convincing, but he relented in the end. I plan to show him a finished blueprint by tonight. I just wanted the two of you to know that our plans have progressed."

William was taken aback by the amount of work she had been able to finish in such a sort time. Still, he did not like how worn down she appeared to be. Indeed, her eyes were not as bright as usual, and she kept stifling yawns against the back of her hand. This simply would not do.

"I must admit, I am impressed," he began, causing her to smile at his praise. She looked so very happy to be acknowledged for her hard work that he couldn't help but find it endearing. His lips too began curving up in an imperceptible smile, but he continued on. "However, I cannot have you neglecting your sleep in such a manner. Promise me you will at least catch a few hours' sleep before finishing your project."

Aria found William's concern touching, and she told him so.

The man became mildly flustered at this, but managed to mask his discomfort well. "So long as you don't over tax yourself," he responded, trying to sound as though he didn't have any excessive interests in her health.

"I shall try, if only for your sake, William," she replied, eyes softening.

It took everything inside of him to hide how beautiful he thought that sentence had been.

"I should hope you would do it for your own sake as well," he returned, schooling his features in what he hoped was a neutral, if friendly, expression.

Aria couldn't help but notice the faint flush that colored his cheeks, however, and was unnerved to feel heat rising to her own. Perhaps a hasty retreat was in order, if only to keep her from making a fool of herself.

"Of course," she complied, making an effort to sound confident and not completely out of her depth. "In that case, perhaps I should go and rest. It wouldn't do to cause you any undue stress on my account."

William gave a quick nod of agreement. "Very well," he replied curtly. "In that case, I will see you later. Good luck tonight."

And with that, William made a swift exit down the stairs Aria had just climbed.

Taking his lead, the good doctor found the staircase leading to her floor, furthering the distance between them as they went their separate ways.

As she traversed the remaining journey separating her from her bed (which seemed to her ridiculously long), she couldn't help but analyze her reaction to William. Surely she was reading too much into his concern? He was, after all, acquainted with her sister, and wouldn't want any harm to befall her while under his care. Yet, though this was definitely a possible explanation for William's attentiveness, it didn't seem to be quite plausible. William's concern seemed to exceed the bounds of mere politeness and duty. Indeed, he even went so far as to walk her to her room last night, which was a trip she could have made safely, if uneasily, herself. To add to this, William seemed to truly enjoy her company, which was a sympathy men of his temperament would find difficult (if impossible) to fake. Taking all of this into account, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to assume that William held some sentiment other than responsibility for her.

Perhaps something much more profound.

A strange sensation blossomed in her stomach, stopping her in her tracks.

Oh.

Oh no.

If he felt that way about her, then that suggested her reactions meant she...

This could not be happening.

The man was a Grim Reaper, for the love of God! That hardly made him the most eligible bachelor! Was it really so impossible for her to take a fancy toward another man?

Then she thought of William again.

Yes, she supposed it was. William was just so unlike any other man.

She mentally scoffed at herself. Quite literally, Aria, she thought. He's not a man at all, but a Grim Reaper, and you would do well to remember that. A relationship extending beyond the bounds of friendship would be impossible.

Disheartened but at least content with having come to a decision regarding William, she continued on to her quarters, feeling even more exhausted than before. She didn't want to think about this anymore. In fact, she didn't want to think at all. She just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? Just to sleep and to forget, if only for a few hours.

Meanwhile, William was making his way to Mrs. Holly's kitchen in silence and in much thought. His mind was engaged in a problem startlingly similar to Aria's own, and the skein was no less difficult to untangle.

It was impossible, he decided, to pretend as though he didn't think highly of her. That fact was blaringly obvious to anybody that observed them together. His regard for her was undeniable, so he would not bother denying it. Still, it was out of the question that he feel anything other than friendship and esteem for her. She was, after all, a human, and he a reaper. She mortal, and he immortal.

The acknowledgement of this truth pained him more than he cared to admit. No, he could never be anything other than her friend, and she could never be anything other than the woman that held his highest opinion.

If only they had met before all of this. Before he...

But the past was in the past, and no amount of "if onlys" was going to change that.

If he felt anything for her, he would do so in silence. He could not possibly allow himself to love her and gain her love in return, only to watch her slowly perish before his eyes while he remained unchanged.

And he would remain unchanged. Doomed to live forever knowing that he could never be with her again, tormented by her memory.

Her observation the night before had been spot on. His emotions were fragile things, and he didn't think he could bear any more loss.

His life had always been as such.

Well, he had always known that bringing emotions into his work would be the end of him.

)*(

The tea was tolerable, he supposed, but the cakes left much to be desired. Though he appreciated that Tanaka was capable of taking over for Sebastian, nobody crafted sweets quite like the demon.

A fact the Earl found ironic.

Still, he ate the tortes without complaint. It was amusing to poke fun at Sebastian, less so at the man who was the closest thing to a grandfather he had ever had. Counting down the days until his indentured servant would be back, he set his tea cup back in its saucer, allowing Tanaka to fill it back up and add the requisite amount of sugar.

After finishing his cake, Tanaka went about clearing the china, allowing his young Master to come to similar ends with his tea. When this had been accomplished and all dishes were loaded back on the tea trolley, Ciel gave a sigh and looked up at his substitute butler expectantly.

"Have we correspondence to sort through?" the Earl asked, linking his fingers and settling his chin on the surface they provided.

"But of course," the elder servant replied, bringing out the tray of letters, business and otherwise. "It would be unheard of for the Earl of Phantomhive to receive nothing in the post."

Ciel gave a slight smile. "Yes, I suppose you are correct as usual, old man. Anything of importance, then?"

Tanaka plucked a letter from the top of the stack, handing it to the boy behind the desk. When the lad saw the fine script on the envelope, he knew instantly who it was from.

"Thank you, Tanaka," the Earl stated, reaching for his letter opener. "You may go."

"Of course, my Lord," the man returned, setting the tray of letters on the desk before exiting with the tea trolley in tow.

After the door was shut, Ciel sliced open the envelope. It was dated just last night. Of course, the regular post was much slower, but Sebastian had his ways. Inside the envelope were multiple sheets of writing. Evidently Sebastian had much to report. Unfolding the papers, Ciel began at the beginning, as one should.

Young Master,

I am pleased to inform you that I have successfully infiltrated Stonehart Asylum. Of course, there could be no other outcome, as I am the Phantomhive butler.

Ciel shot a breath through his teeth. How typical of Sebastian to congratulate himself on paper as well as in person. It was like the impertinent man was in the room with him.

He continued.

My new position is that of aide, though I confess to being rather uninspired by my duties, or rather, lack thereof. Indeed, I have never once been asked to complete a task. Though I suppose it is rather nice to have a break from continual housework, it would seem that too much of a good thing can indeed be detrimental, and I find myself slipping into an inexorable tedium without anything to occupy the majority of my time.

Ciel rolled his eyes. Honestly, could this devil not write a simple letter without being a snide git throughout the whole of it? So far he had yet to read a single piece of useful information aside from the inactivity of the asylum as experienced by his butler.

Getting irritated, he continued on.

I must now take this opportunity to apologize, my young Lord, as it seems I have made the mistake of enlightening you as to my impressions regarding the new position I find myself in. Such a blunder is unforgivable, for I am sure someone as stately as yourself cares not for the thoughts of a lowly servant.

The Earl was on the verge of exclaiming his displeasure to the empty room when he read the next sentence.

Now, young Lord, you must restrain that scowl that threatens to steal over your countenance; it does absolutely nothing for your appearance. Remember, you are a stately noble - do try to behave like one.

Why that pathetic -

As for the information you so desire, I shall divulge all that I know.

I was hired without much ceremony by the redoubtable Ms. Dunne (the dour head of staff, much to everyone's dismay), who showed me directly to my (sparse) living quarters. She did a marvelous job of telling me absolutely nothing, and went about her day, leaving me to go about mine. I admit to not getting much done the first day, aside from meeting Mrs. Holly: an amiable woman who serves as cook and quite enjoys my company - but I digress.

Ciel was about to make a face once more after reading his butler's cocky words, but his actions were once again predicted with insulting accuracy.

I see that scowl threatening to reappear. You must learn to rein in your temper, my Lord. Patience is a virtue, as the cliché goes. Besides, I'm sure the following information will more than satisfy.

Oh, it had better, Ciel thought bitterly before reading on.

The next day I was given a flat mate. Do you care to guess who this mysterious new hire might be? No matter, I shall tell you anyway. It would seem that the world is indeed a small place, either that or it has a sadistic sense of humor. I was introduced to none other than our favorite harbinger of death: Mr. William T. Spears. A more acceptable flat mate than his red-headed employee would have been, but only just. As you might expect, his presence only raised my suspicions, further confirming that something was terribly wrong with this asylum.

Thankfully, our Mr. Spears can have good sense upon occasion, and decided that it would be wise if we exchanged reasons for being, as it were. I went first (good sense incurs lack of trust, I am afraid), and he kept his end of the bargain.

Ciel nearly dropped his letter in surprise. Spears was at the asylum? What terrible things could possibly result in a reaper investigating?

At that moment, he thought back to the investigation he had undergone at the Noah's Ark Circus some time ago. The circumstances surrounding that case had been horrendous at best. If it took that kind of brutality to bring the administrative reaper out into the field once, he rather didn't want to know what was going on in Stonehart Asylum that would call him back again.

Unfortunately, it was his business to know. He could never let the Queen down, loyal dog that he was.

Feeling ill at ease, he went back to the letter.

And this, my young Lord, is where things get interesting.

It would seem our Mr. Spears had intel that pointed to the presence of a certain mortician at the asylum. I do not jest, my Lord. The Undertaker is indeed walking the halls of Stonehart, though I have yet to see him in person. How can I be certain, you ask? Well, the source of this intelligence is one that both you and I have reason to trust. Dr. Aria Sinclair's word does tend to hold sway with us. Oh, but I see I have surprised you yet again. Yes, this investigation has become far more complex than I ever imagined it would.

This time, instead of dropping the missive, the young Earl grasped more tightly to it, wrinkling the pages and producing a crumpling sound.

Undertaker was involved in this as well? He supposed that explained Spears's presence, as Undertaker's actions would be reaper business, but Aria? How on earth did she fit into this?

Did you know our dear Dr. Sinclair has a reaper relative? Either way, the Undertaker contacted her in a rather macabre way and she thought it wise to inform the reapers grim of the situation. As it is, she is undercover posing as a collaborator to his experiments, and he has no notion of our presence.

A reaper relative? As far as he knew, Aria's only family in London was her younger sister, Dr. Lynn Sinclair, who was most decidedly human. The rest of her family lived in the United States. What on earth was going on?

Though he supposed Undertaker contacting her did not require a huge stretch of the imagination. They had worked together in the past, after all. Still, Ciel was surprised that Undertaker would so willingly give out his location. Surely he hadn't actually thought the Doctor would condone his monstrosities?

He returned to the letter, more than a little bewildered.

This would be where I interject a request, though I am positive you shall comply. The three of us (we are cooperating, if you'll believe) have agreed that the only way to subdue Undertaker would be to get him out of the asylum at the request of Dr. Sinclair, but Spears is afraid for her safety. If it isn't too much trouble, might I take it upon myself to safeguard her? Surely you have no need of my services so urgently what with the competent staff you have back at the manor, and I know how fond you are of the Doctor. I await your consent.

Ciel nearly snorted. Competent staff indeed. The blasted maid nearly toppled an entire bookcase in the library while dusting earlier that day. She had been so contrite about it, however, that he had found it difficult to become too cross with her. In fact, he was almost impressed that she had gotten it to sway at all, considering how heavy it was.

Sarcastic statement aside, all of the other points Sebastian made had been correct. He was rather fond of Aria, and would rather nothing untoward happen to her. He was running out of sensible acquaintances as it was, no need to forfeit another one. Indeed, he would send his consent for Sebastian to serve as her temporary bodyguard.

What interested him more, however, was his clear desire to do so. Sebastian was a marvelous servant, but he clearly only did his duties due to the stipulations of the contract. Aside from that, he rarely if ever volunteered to do anything. In fact, at times he made a point not to do something without an express order simply to nettle him. This, though, was completely outside of his contract and only affected Ciel in that he was fond of the Doctor. To add to that, Spears was concerned for her safety?

Indeed, this was an interesting development.

Intrigued, he glanced back down at the paper in his hands.

To continue, we have discovered that the poorest patients of the asylum are being kept as prisoners in the upper levels of the building, serving as lab rats for Undertaker's experiments. They are in terrible condition, I must say, and their minds are most probably all but gone. Still, Dr. Sinclair insists on helping them, so we shall do what we can.

Ciel gave a small smile. Aria would try to save the unsalvageable. It was so like her. One must never give up until all alternatives have been exhausted. Then, if necessary, one must create new ones. He had no doubt she would ensure that every victim of this affair received the proper treatment, whether or not they were a lost cause.

As far as Undertaker's intentions go (the letter went on), we have hypothesized that he is attempting to bring reason to his dolls. The method is long and complex. Suffice it to say that he is going about it by providing continual stimulation to the brain. This is where his need of Dr. Sinclair comes in. He requires her to help him design a device that would provide this stimulation without being noticeable. A hefty demand, but nothing our dear Doctor cannot handle.

That is everything of importance that has occurred thus far.

Awaiting your reply,

S. Michaelis

With the steady hand of one used to the evils of the world, Ciel set the letter down on his desk and leaned back in his chair to think. Clearly, the situation was much more dire than had been imagined. When he had sent Sebastian away to investigate, he had not anticipated this type of development. Typically, he would be present at the scene to give immediate instruction as he saw fit. Sadly, he did not have that power in this instance. Sebastian may be able to fathom letters to him in a single night, but Ciel did not have the powers of Hell at his beck and call. He would have to use more conventional means.

Taking out a small strip of paper, Ciel began writing his brief reply to his butler. Along with giving Sebastian consent to watch over Aria's safety, he also made a demand that his demon wouldn't go rogue now that he was not under his immediate supervision.

When he was done, he rang for Tanaka who showed up promptly, inquiring after his needs.

"Send this out by carrier pigeon at once," the young boy instructed, rolling up the paper and handing it to his trusted servant.

"Understood, my Lord," Tanaka replied, bowing at the waist. "And where specifically am I to send it?"

"Stonehart Asylum," Ciel responded, looking grave. "Let's hope our feathered friend makes all haste."

)*(

"They were what?" Carmichael practically hissed the question at his head of staff after her upsetting news.

"Snooping upstairs, sir. I found them loitering outside the door."

Ms. Dunne was as expressionless and impersonal as ever, her countenance not betraying even a glimmer of emotion. Her actions, however, showed irrefutably where she placed her loyalties. No one of her acquaintance would be surprised to find out that she was a tattletale. Though looks can be deceiving, in the case of Ms. Dunne, they were simply a warning. The interior was just as colorless and unpleasant as the exterior.

"And why didn't you inform me of this earlier?" Carmichael went on, seething as he paced the floor of his office. Ms. Dunne's exterior calm only succeeded in aggravating him further. It galled him that the detestable woman wasn't cowering in his presence, wasn't sniveling away as she tried excuse after excuse on him to lessen his anger and her punishment. In fact, the old crone refused to show even the slightest hint of remorse for her inaction. It was like talking to a mannequin, only he imagined one of them would provide better company.

"You were busy, sir," she replies simply, as though it were the most understandable answer in the world.

Carmichael bristled at her insolence. Rounding on her, he thrust out an accusatory finger, face reddening in anger his body could no longer contain. "Listen here you contemptible cow," he practically shouted, storming toward her staunch figure. When he finally ceased his march, he was so close that when he continued his speech, flecks of spittle rained on her face. "I will not tolerate this lackadaisical performance any longer! Why do you think I brought you here to be my head of staff? Was it for you to while your days away with needlework and neglect your duties? Well, was it?"

"No, sir," she answered quietly, casting her eyes downward.

It wasn't much, but what little it was pleased Carmichael's need for cowering submission. In part, that is.

"I should think not," he shot, narrowing his eyes harshly at the woman before him. "If you ask me, Ms. Dunne," he went on, encouraged by his minor victory, "I would say that you are a most useless employee. Being unable to guard a door all the way on the ninth floor... Did you even attempt to deter them from venturing upstairs? Better still, why didn't you do a thorough investigation of their backgrounds? Granted, bringing in that sow Sinclair was Undertaker's idea, but you were in charge of the rest of the staff. What possessed you to hire them in the first place?"

At first Ms. Dunne thought the question rhetorical, but when he raised an eyebrow as though impatient for a response, she was compelled to answer.

"People were getting suspicious," she stated plainly, sounding less confident now. "I thought it would help our image if we hired some new faces."

"You didn't think that perhaps the new faces themselves were the suspicious ones?" The words were practically spat at her.

Seeing that he had sufficiently broken her spirit, he drew to a close with a scathing finale. "I don't know why I brought you along with me. Poor, austere, friendless Mary Dunne. So devoted to me, so eager to please. Yet here you are, not a jewel in my crown, but a millstone around my neck. If only I had not taken pity on you, but left you in that wretched farm where I found you."

Her body was trembling now, but she didn't make a sound. Exasperated by this lack of response, he finally tired of the game and strode to the door. "I'm going to discuss your folly with Undertaker and see what is to be done. Be a good little dog and do your two best tricks: sit and stay."

And with a fling of his arm, he was out the door, slamming it behind him. His heavy footfalls echoed down the hall for a time, but eventually faded into silence.

In the solitude of Stoneheart Asylum, Mary Dunne fell to her knees and sobbed.

And here's another chapter for all of you patient people who, honestly, deserve so much more. Thank you again for reading!