Oliver eagerly left the cramped bedroom. He glanced into the kitchen, and spotted the other doctors hovering near the stove to watch the teapot. They murmured too low for him to catch what they were saying, and when Louis tossed a stern stare in the teen's direction, he announced, "Nikolai has a run scheduled today. I'm going now to pay the body bringers."

"Leave the chest in the basement," Louis said. "We will pick it up later, since we are already here."

"Right," Oliver turned away.

"Um, Ollie," Lila piped up once he reached the bottom of the steps. "I am going to stay with them, you know, instead of going to the basement."

"Do not fret over it," the baker wiggled a finger at her. "I get the jitters going down there, too."

There was already a body on the table, but Nikolai and the carriers were not there. Oliver neared the corpse, eying the mess of blood coming from a slit in its neck. "How creative," he muttered sourly. He took a step away from the slab, about to turn around and glance around the dim room, but a weight falling onto his shoulder made him jump with an uncontrolled yelp.

"Ow!" Nikolai stumbled backwards, throwing his hands over his ears. "You hurt my head!"

Oliver whirled on him as snickers rose from the two boys standing beneath the staircase. "You are the one scaring people half to death!"

"Death is what I do best!"

One of the other boys nudged his companion. "I never even heard a girl scream like that."

"Funny," spittle flew from Oliver's mouth, "I thought only girls giggle like that." They clamped their jaws shut, their eyes glinting in the darkness. He leveled himself with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, but jerked it away out of habit. Oliver produced his wallet, and handed Nikolai more than the body bringers deserve. "The doctors said they will pick up the cooler today."

"Oh? They are here?" Nikolai turned from the pair slinking away, much richer than when they entered the basement. "Are they looking for cupcakes?" He laughed, even if he had not intended to joke.

"No," Oliver heard his own voice come out low and grave. "Bella is dying. It is almost time."

"Is it?" The man set an empty cooler on the roll away drawer beside the metal table. He swooped down to dump dry ice into it, and his voice jumped when the cold bit through his gloves, "Maybe I should pay her a visit!"

"Maybe," the baker echoed.

"You are not going to stay and keep me company?"

Oliver latched onto the stair railing, and kept his eyes on the dusty steps. "I should really get back upstairs."

Nikolai looked down and petted his scarf. "Okay."

The boy hurried away, and nearly tripped back down the stairs when his foot caught on one of the steps. He had just made it to the bottom of the other staircase when Lila came into view at the top. "Oliver!" She called out, flinging herself to him, and almost crashed onto his head.

"Whoa!" Oliver flinched as the fairy latched onto his hair. "You could hurt yourself!"

"Ollie! I know Bella is really, really, really, really, really sick, and we all want to make her feel better!"

"O-okay..." Oliver blinked a few times, confused at her outburst. He marched up the stairs slowly, almost carefully as the fairy continued to babble.

"Those people were talking about how to end her suffering, and they put something that wasn't sugar, honey, or milk in her tea!"

Oliver hesitated by the kitchen doorway, staring at the disregarded kettle on the stove. The 'hot surface' light was still on; Anabella's visitors must have had just flicked off the heat. "Perhaps it is medicine?" He weakly offered.

Lila let out a whiny sigh. "I don't trust it!"

All heads snapped in the teen's direction as he pushed open the bedroom door. Oliver's eyes jumped to the cup the lady doctor was tipping to Anabella's mouth. The elder gestured for her to lean back. "Hello again, young man."

"Bella," Oliver quietly greeted his friend, and fluttered to the edge of the bed. "How is your tea?"

"Mm, Earl Grey. It is my favorite," Bella announced with a weak smile. She reached out for the mug again. Oliver felt his throat constrict as she eagerly drank the hot liquid.

"There's something in there," Lila weakly protested. "Ollie..."

Everyone simply watched the elder sip her tea. Oliver did not know what to do. Anabella was already dying, and a hot cup of her best drink was better than many other ways of passing. The young woman set the almost empty cup on the other nightstand. His boss' eyes were already drooping. "Early Gray white...is not nearly as good..." She mumbled, and her head slouched against her pillow.

Oliver sharply demanded, "What was in there?"

The doctors gave him sour, yet surprised looks. The woman spoke up, "It was something to help her go to sleep, so she wouldn't feel anything."

The man turned from the window sill with a needle in hand. "This, however, is the euthanization."

Oliver scrambled off the bed, wide eyed as the doctor stuck the needle in Anabella's lower arm. He glanced to Louis, as if for assurance, but the dull blond was watching his coworker administer the injection. "What is this about?"

"What are you about?" The woman demanded. "Would you rather her cough a lung out, and die very painfully?"

"I...I did not know you were planning to do that, and at this moment."

"I didn't either!" Lila scolded the trio. "We could have said famous last words, but I guess not!"

"You are not going to know everything. I'd be horrified if anyone did."

Oliver turned his gaze to the elder lying on the bed. A quiet murmur sounded from the fairy. The woman dug around in her bag, and pulled out a stethoscope. She set it in her ears, and pressed the flat metal to Anabella's chest. Everyone stared with held breaths.

"What time is it?"

The other man pulled back his jacket sleeve. "Eight minutes until noon."

She nodded, and stepped away as Louis came forth. He slowly sank onto the mattress, and leaned toward Anabella. He brushed her curly white hair from her forehead, and pressed his lips to her aged skin. "Rest well, Bella. You deserve it."

Oliver dropped his stare to the floorboards, realizing it felt a bit funny to breathe. Bella was dead. Before he knew it, a line of tears tickled his cheek, and he quickly swiped a sleeve over his face before any of the doctors would notice.

"I will call an ambulance," the woman announced. "They will be able to board her onto a stretcher and take her to the funeral parlor."

"Ugh," Louis put a hand over his eyes. "I have forgotten about the entire planning of that mess."

She put a hand on his shoulder, giving the fabric of his silky shirt a squeeze. However, none of the three said anything else until a light knock on the door interrupted the group. They twisted to face the looming figure of Nikolai almost clocking his head on the short doorway. The room grew even more cramped, and the doctors that were standing huddled closer to Louis. The buggy goggles and face mask would frighten even an unmovable rock.

Lila exclaimed, "He smells like creepy basements!"

Oliver glanced down, and thankfully, the surgeon disposed of his blood soaked gloves. Nikolai tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "She dead?"

Louis snorted, his dull violets flickering to the furthest wall. "It is done. She is put to rest."

"It looks like it!"

The woman snapped, "Is there something you need?"

"Not anymore," Nikolai easily replied. "I am done ogling." He turned to Oliver, who took a step back from his height. "I will be seeing you again."

The teen weakly nodded, even if it was not a question. He felt queasy from the smell of chemicals radiating from Nikolai's odd colored surgeon scrubs, worsened by a large hand reaching out to roughly smother his hair. "Good. You be good boy."

"Ew!" Lila spat, dangling off of Oliver's shirt collar. "I'm here!" She assured the boy who patted his head as Nikolai pulled out of the room. She flew up, and resettled on her usual spot, huffing, "How rude!"

"Oliver," the woman stated, "You best be going back to that youth hostel, or whatever it is. Get your bags packed."

"What for?"

Her eyelids drooped in a blank stare. "So you can move in, duh. When Anabella says you are taking after the bakery, that means the flat, too."

"O-of course," Oliver flimsily replied. All that paperwork had added up to something, after all. He glanced to Anabella's body, not wanting to cling onto it anymore.

Louis added, "You may want to renovate the place. It is a little...retro. I have plenty of experience with decorating-"

"Yeah," the other man loudly asked, "who wants to sleep in a bed where someone died? Creeeeeeepy."

"I will be here in the morning," Oliver decided, almost giggling from the glare Louis shot his coworker. "Until then."

"Oh, good," Lila sighed with relief when the teen left without waiting for the doctors to say anything. "I didn't want to be staring at Anabella all night."

"She's gone, Lila," Oliver murmured at the top of the stairs.

The fairy was quiet for a moment. He descended, his heels clomping on the wood with obnoxious contact. "I know, Ollie, but that is a good thing. That is the way things are supposed to go."

~.~

~;-;~

~.~

Some days later, at the House, Oliver announced, "I am leaving."

Miss Warden slowly looked up from her crossword booklet. "Come again?"

Oliver shifted his weight foot to foot. "I am going to live at the bakery. Anabella passed a few days ago, leaving the shop and flat complex in my name. I have the death certificate, if you need to see it."

The elder eyed his completely white outfit, understanding where, or what he had just come from. Even Lila, before she returned to her Realm, had ordained herself in white for Anabella's funeral, despite Oliver being the only one to survey her. It was a small, yet silently powerful occurrence; a perfect closure for his friend.

"Bring it here," Miss Warden said.

The teen surrendered the folder he was carrying since he left the bakery. "In the left pocket. There is other paperwork in there, including the receipts of the transference of her funds."

"The opening of your bank account, too." Miss Warden seemed curious for once. Her narrowed eyes jumped between the papers. Most of the funds were not in his bank account. If Anabella transferred all of her money to Oliver's, it would be strikingly alarming for someone his age to have so much already through legal methods. Oliver opted to keep his and her account open, at least until the last small increment was in his. "I see. Your seventeenth birthday is in the Spring. You could stay another year."

"That will not be necessary."

She curtly nodded, and leaned over, producing her black book of names and information of the House's inhabitants from a desk drawer. "Kirkland, Kirkland," the old woman paged through the thick binder, making a low, "Ah," when she found him. She turned the book to face him, and tapped on an empty line. "Sign here."

Oliver glanced to his mother's signature in the space above, reading 'Guardian Signature." He averted his eyes to the line "Attendant Signature,' and 'Date of Leave." He even filled in the date so Miss Warden did not have to, and surrendered the pen and book without studying his mother's handwriting.

Miss Warden closed the book after signing her own name, and set her hands on the dark leather. "Sometimes, the children wind up in worse places than they were before they come here." Her ever frown lessened as she looked up to Oliver. "I am assured that such is not the case this time."

An expression that passed as a small smile made its way to Oliver's face. "Thank you, Miss Warden." He did not forget to swipe his folder that the elder set at the edge of her desk. They exchanged a nod. "Have a nice day."

Miss Warden looked taken back from the comment, but Oliver did not linger to see for certain. The cold, dead winter air buffeted his rich hair, and the door creaked shut, choking off the House's old smell. His eyes scanned the property, hoping it would be for the last time.

When he realized his wish, his smile broadened. The House had sheltered him from the seasons and pushed him to mature, but it was a step, and he was ready to ascend once more. The gate closed with a creak, a sharp collision of the metal latch against wood. Although Oliver listened to the sounds, he did not linger, and unlocked his boss' old car, his car. Due to Anabella, and in partial to his mother, and everyone else that pushed him, he had his own sanctuary waiting for him down the road.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

More days passed to the bakery's door swinging open to the roar of snow and cars rolling by the slushy streets. "Fucking cold..." the newcomer growled, shoving the door, but it closed on its own accord.

Oliver did not look up from the furniture catalogue he was browsing. "Apparently tact does not run in the family."

Matt's sneakers squeaked on the clean floor as he stepped in front of the counter. Electing to ignore the comment, he asked, "Are you even around the House anymore?"

"I do not live there anymore." Oliver's mouth puckered in interest at a collection of throw pillows. "Goodness! That much? I can just sew my own!" With a noise of disgust, he angrily flipped to the next page, but the thin sheets ripped in his hands.

"Okay," Matt swiped his palm over his lips, a professional at quashing grins. "I guess you're living with Bella now?"

"Bella is dead. She has been for two weeks now, I'm afraid."

"Two weeks? Holy shit."

Oliver said, "Language."

Matt's eyebrows mashed together. "Yeah. Can I get a half dozen of those muffins in that stand?"

The baker plopped the magazine onto the counter, and made himself busy. "Lucky you. These are peanut butter and jelly muffins. You like those, right?"

"Yeah, they're good."

"Okay," Oliver replied just as dryly as he wedged his hand inside a paper bag to get it open. "Where is Siegmund? I hardly see the bloke anywhere else besides your side."

A light pink broke across Matt's cheeks, but his expression was somewhat unreadable behind his sunglasses. "He's not feeling well, so he's back at the House."

"I may be wrong, but I believe a drug store would be more useful to the sick than a bakery."

The other teen dug in his jean's pocket for a few crumbled bills before snatching the bag Oliver offered to him. "I came here to get him something to elevate his mood. Keep the change."

"Oh. Oh!" Oliver did not bother putting a hand to his mouth to stifle himself anymore. "Is he all right?"

"He's fine," Matt bit back, almost facing away from him. He hesitated, and then faced the baker. "It's just him and me, you know? I'm trying, but I guess it's not good enough."

"Do not say that!" Oliver scolded with a wagging finger.

"What do you want me to say then? Everything is honky-dory? He misses his brother." The other boy glanced to the counter. "I miss mine. I don't know what to do with that."

"Matt," the baker moved closer, but clenched his hands to stop himself from planting them onto Matt's in a reassuring gesture. "They will come back. It will be a long while, but eventually, they will, and things will get better then." Urging in a softer tone, "It may not seem to do anything now, but it will be very vital to the both of you down the road a bit if you stay with him."

"Huh, okay," Matt set his jaw in a thoughtful manner. "Touching. Well, um, I gotta go...y'know, muffins. Yeah." He dug the rosy-gold strands along the back of his head as he hurried to the front door.

Oliver looked to the ceiling tiles. "That was good work!"

I got bloops for this chapter:

Nikolai tipped his head, his expression unreadable. "She dead?"

Louis snorted, his dull violets flickering to the furthest wall. "It is done. She is put to rest."

"It looks like it!"

The woman snapped, "Is there something you need?"

"Not anymore," Nikolai easily replied. "I am done ogling." He turned to Oliver, who took a step back from his height. "I like ogling at dead bodies. That is why I became an autopsist."

"Wow," Oliver said. "That is not weird at all."

"No, it is not! Being dead is perfectly natural!"