Break's POV

Back, forth, back, forth…

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

I looked down at her, her blond hair aglow in the dim of the candles. Music hummed against the hall walls, sweet ballroom notes squeezing underneath the doorjamb, a honey lullaby. My smile was gentle, "Of course. In fact, the master gave me a day of leave-"I held a finger to my lips, "But I came anyway, for you, my dear."

"Demi…" She rolled her eyes, "Don't you ever take a break?"

"What? Never!" I gasped in mock shock, "I can never let my guard down, not for one second! Evil never rests…" I propped her chin and smirked, "So why should I?"

She laughed, and leaned in closer, "And they say chivalry is dead."

We sway back and forth to the rythm of my heartbeat, she acting as timekeeper with her head resting against my chest. And only my heartbeat. The orchestra had retired not to long ago, but she doesn't even notice.

But I do.

I bury my face in her thick, wonderful hair. It smells of grass and roses. I can't help but wonder if she was pruning red or white ones this afternoon, "Busy day?"

She scoffs, "You'd think they'd find a better job for the grounds keeper."

Her eyes twinkle blue when she looks up to me. My heart hollows out, along with my smile, "I thought women liked flowers."

"Not when they have thorns." She frowns, breaking out of her trance, "Demi… do you hear that?"

I pull her closer, slipping back into my jovial suit, "The conductor must be taking a break."

To my dismay, she shakes her head, "No… it sounds like…"

I sigh and let her go when those eyes that had made me hurt widen, and she scurries over to the heavy oak doors and pull them open.

She screams, and I become hollower.

The ballroom has been decimated to ruin, and the walls are now colored crimson instead of its regal crème. Masquerading bodies litter the checked dance floor; dukes, nobles, duchesses and staff… all dead. The conductor, as previously stated, was taking a break, hanging from the chandelier by his own coattails.

Only Knight remains, a bloodied pillar still picking off the remaining survivors.

"I'm so sorry you have to see this…" When my hand clamps onto her shoulder, I can feel it shake, "I wanted to spare you, I really did."

"Why…" She didn't look at me. She didn't have to, "Demi, what are you—? "

The end of my rapier winks at me from the other side of her corset, "Damned, my dear."

I pull the blade from her flesh before she can utter another syllable, and she crumples to the ground, bleeding and gasping and crying.

We meet gazes one last time, the life fading from those blue pools, "Demi…"

"That's not my name." I say stiffly, "It's Kevin. Kevin Regunard."

My timing is just enough to paint her over with horror before her eyes glaze over. Without another thought, I begin navigating my way through the maze of carnage to Knight. It's difficult, but I manage.

"You could have at least let me finish her off…" He trails, ruefully eyeing the wilted beauty.

I sheathe my sword and shrug, turning for the exit. He doesn't move, his sights still on her, "What was her name?"

Another shrug. I'd long since given up on keeping track of my victims.

Before I even open my eye, I curse.

"Language…" Emily sings, and I feel obliged whack the little doll across the room. With a groan, I sit up, clawing off the bed sheets that still tried to keep hold of me. I stay like this for awhile, continuing one of a series of staring contests with the wall.

It wins of course, making the score 46-0.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my pale feet meeting with the even paler tile of the cell floor. One more stare down, score's now 47-0. As if I wasn't in a sour enough mood already.

Sighing, I get up and stretch, strolling around the small space provided. According to Sharon, Yesterday was our six-month anniversary.

Yes, six months. Time flies when you're penned by Pandora.

It's shocking, really, how much has changed in such a short amount of time. Sharon hasn't been around all that much, her tutor having trapped her into a cell of English and arithmetic. But I haven't been alone.

Her mother, Shelly… she stops by nearly every day. Our exchanges are far from elaborate, and the main reason she drops by is so that she can update her daughter on my condition, but she has this… warmth to her. She's one of those people who light up a room just by walking into it. She also has taken to checking and replacing my bandages, sparing the egg heads up in research some worry and me the tension.

I guess you can say I now know where Sharon gets her charm from.

Also, there are the memories. They come frequently now, sprinkling my days with visions of bloodshed and heartache. I guess being 'human' isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

I shudder, recalling the glazed blue eyes from the dream, "Bloody hell…"

"What's the matter, hun?" Emily hums from the little heap in the corner. Not that she doesn't already know, but it heartens me she cares enough to ask.

"You're damn eye screwing with my head, that's what." I mutter, scooping her up before settling on the foot of my bed.

She chuckles, "How many times do I have to tell you? It's—"

"—My eye, right." I bounce her on my knee, smirking when she begins to protest. Don't get me wrong, I love my doll… just not as much as I love to harass the little monster.

There's a knock on the door (not that it makes much of a difference, seeing as I have no control over who invades my personal space) before the sound of the tumbler announces my latest visitor. I tuck Emily under the covers, steeling myself for another round with the nerd herd.

To my surprise, the nerd's singular, "There you are."

Yes, because I'm just that hard to find nowadays… I relax, but just a little. An awkward moment passes as I scan over Reim, and him, me. The last time we saw each other was in the hallway before the whole bazaar fiasco. Well, I use 'saw' very loosely, because it was before I had my eye, and the only reason I know it's him is his voice. That thin, nervous voice that made him always sound like he was perpetually in a hurry. His glasses were crooked and the top two buttons of his uniform were unbuttoned, going well with his messy brown hair.

Yeah, this was Reim all right.

"What do you want?" I lean back, pretending to be bored. Like how Cheshire always acted around me when A— I shake my head, stamping out the sick feeling before it can roll over me again.

"Well," He clears his throat, "Lady Shelly wishes to speak with you."

"Oh?" I sit up, forgetting my façade. Why doesn't she just come down herself? Is it something important? Could it… my pulse quickens, could it be that I'm being let go? That I'll be able to walk free again?

"Yes, and she wants you to ready yourself and be in her chambers within the hour." He then drops the official air and adds, "Also… Miss Sharon wanted me to give you these."

My ears perk to the metallic clang of tin and sweets. Out of his pocket, he pulls a small candy can. A smile surfaces. I'm starting to like this guy.

I get up, "Well, we might as well go now seeing as I don't—"

Reim shakes his head, and waves a maid in carrying a pile of clothes, "She's provided you with these, seeing as you can't show up in a night gown."

My face heats up at the mention of my apparel. Thanks to the constant visits from my favorite group of researchers, it had been decided that I'd just wear a hospital slip, seeing as it's such a hassle to change me in and out for every single exam. To be honest, I think they fancy they found a weakness in my apparent lack of button ability, and they want to keep me from overcoming it.

He ducks out and the maid politely looks away (Well, for the most part. The little wench tried sneaking a peak every now and again) as I zipped and dressed my way to my undershirt which, of course, was button-up.

Damn you, buttons. Damn you. She happily trots over to help fasten them, and before long (longer, seeing as she 'fumbled' with the bottom ones. I make note to ask Shelly for some less perverted maids) I'm dressed and ready to go.

I reluctantly thank the maid, pick up Emily, and head out the door with Reim. He proves to be just as stoic as ever during our adventure, silently leading as I trail behind, admiring the view.

And what a view it is. Tapestries and paintings decorated the walls between magnificent paned glass windows looking out into a courtyard fit for kings. I know it might be just the cell talking… hell, even the inside of a wooden crate would look great after months of endless white tile. But something told me it would be a sight to see no matter what.

We finally stop in front of a towering arched doorway, and Reim and I file into a cozy sitting room just outside of Shelly's quarters. Another (and thankfully, more composed) maid tells us to wait, assuring that the Lady will be with us shortly.

Reim and I park ourselves on an overstuffed sofa, the both of us on opposite ends. Seeing as pleasant conversation (Well, besides the occasional spat from Emily) is clearly out of the question, I decide to widdle away the minutes in the most productive way I knew how.

I glare down at the brightest, most polished button on my jacket. It takes me only a second to formulate a battle plan before I crack down on it, pinching it and twisting it and cursing it anywhere from hell to Tijuana.

Then, at long last, it pops free of it's fasten.

A cry of joy escapes my lips as I jump up from the couch, "Ha! I did it! I. Did. It!"

Unfortunately, my victory is short lived.

"Congratulations dear, you undid your own button. Mother must be proud." Emily giggled from the couch, having fallen in my little flight of ecstasy. She's not the only one staring. Reim is frozen to the spot, like a hare staring down the barrel of a rifle, along with the maid, who had come through the door in time to see the display.

"Ah…" I point at the button, at a loss for what else to do, "I did it."

"Yes, I see." The maid smiles politely, still a little spooked, "The lady will see you now."

A/N: Ello all... I have come back from the dead, see? I finally was able to carve out a bit of my schedule... and look what became of it! You guys can all thank my friend Bliss for this chapter. She's recently suffering from a relapse of Inuyasha nostolgia, and her frequent fanficing inspired me to return to this little wonder. Because, as you all know, Break is TOTALLY the first thing that comes to mind when I read about a white haired half demon with cute little ears.

I'll probably come back and revise this chapter, seeing as Break is a bit of a spaz. (I blame the candy). It works for now, it kinda balances out his whole serial murder scene. I hope. O.O

Anywho, thanks for all the support I STILL got after months of hiatus. Really, you guys rock. I would hug you all if it were physically possible.

~Every time you review, a button is defeated.~