It was just a little after curfew when Knox had a knock at his door. He wasn't sleeping anyways, so it's not like it mattered. Opening up, he was somewhat shocked to see his uncle. Who else would it be? No one cared to visit him, but still, what did he was this late?

"I was thinking about our conversation earlier." Ryan spoke as he waltzed into the room.

"Yeah, just come right in." Knox muttered, displeased.

Completely ignoring the comment, he replied, "You said there's only ever been two patients that have acted out really badly in the main ward. You told me the first was Tokyo, but we got so caught up in talking about it that you never told me who the other was."

"Truthfully," He shut the door quietly, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask. What happened was something that a lot of us really tried to forget. When Felix was kidnapped, and then banished, it fucked Marci up really badly. He was her sanity. Before she mellowed out and eventually became the zombie you saw when you first came here, she first was enraged."

"Isn't she a poltergeist?" He asked with concern.

"Yeah, and trust me, she holds a lot of power for someone so small. Felix didn't just keep her happy; He kept her sane." Knox explained, "She tore this place apart and put a lot of us in hospital beds in the process. Eventually they had to force her into a cell in Rest Point for awhile. They managed to find a medication that would keep her at bay until he returned."

"Maybe Ricky was right to be worried about her." He sighed.

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With a candle opera in his hand, Micah walked the dark halls, careful not to wake anyone. He pushed open the kitchen door. As he expected, a few flames were burning to provide the chef some light. He was actually worried for a second something had happened to Paris. The truth was, his love was a restless soul.

"I was worried when I turned over and you weren't next to me in bed." He spoke as he set down the candles on the counter.

"Sorry. I just... I couldn't sleep, so I decided to prep some things for tomorrow." Paris responded.

"I see that." Micah walked around behind him. He placed his hands on the smaller's shoulders, "You're just a bundle of nerves, aren't you?"

Paris let the knife in his hand drop onto the cutting board. The second Micah started to rub the knots out of his muscles, he melted. A moan slipped from his mouth and further satisfied his dominant. Micah very gently blew air along the back of his neck just to get him to shiver. He smiled satisfactorily and savored their blissful moment.

"Mon amour, I promised to always be by your side when you need me, but I am not a mind reader. When you're feeling restless and stressed, please, let me know. It makes me feel like a waste when I fail to be there for you."

"The last thing I want is for you to feel like a waste. I just don't want to be another thing on your plate. You've got so much to deal with already." He replied.

"No, no. You'd never be a problem." He took Paris' hand, guiding him to face him. Micah placed his finger under his love's chin, whispering, "Tu es la raison pour laquelle je vis*. Éternellement vôtre."

He smiled softly, "Éternellement vôtre."

Micah grinned blissfully. He brushed back a piece of Paris' hair, asking, "Would you like to return to the bedroom? Or do you want to finish things here?"

"I'd rather finish things here, if that's okay." He said.

"As long as it's okay if I stay." He replied, "I don't get to see you much during the day, love."

Paris turned back to the cutting board, responding, "No, we don't. Jasper's been keeping you very busy as of late."

He sighed, "He has his reasons, I'm sure."

Micah sat down on a bar stool on the other side of the center counter. Paris poured him a glass of vinsange; A mixture of blood and wine. Well fitting, the French invented it. Typically they were the only ones to drink it as well. It was strangely romantic. The two sat in a candle lit kitchen, drinking wine, while a storm began to fester outside.

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"Babe," Felix gently shook his girlfriend's shoulder, "Marci, wake up. Wake up, please, listen to the sound of my voice. Wake up."

The second he knew she was coming to, he jumped back to prevent himself from getting hit in any way. Luckily this time she didn't punch him like she'd done in the past. She shot up in bed with a sharp gasp. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to figure out where she was. Once realization set in, tears quickly rushed her eyes.

Felix sat up straight and set his hand on her arm gently. She jumped, but calmed down the second she realized it was him. Sometimes things got really hard to decipher, but the one thing that she always knew was real was him. She'd trained herself to know his face as a sign of safety.

"You were just having one of your dreams again. You're okay. You're safe, you're with me." He reassured her. As routine as it was, and as many times as she'd heard it, it still went pretty far.

Marci raised her hands to her face. She cried against her palms, "I-It was the bad one."

"I know." He sighed, gesturing down to her nightgown.

She looked down, realizing the silk was stained deep with blood. Glancing at the bed, she saw that to be stained as well. Her fatal wound typically didn't bleed. For some reason, when she had that dream, it did. Even her doctor had yet to figure out exactly why.

"I'm so sorry." She whimpered, "This was one of my favorites too. It was the one you brought back for me from your trip to Alfheim."

"Baby, it's okay. It's just a piece of fabric. We can replace this." He was delicate as he pulled her closer, "I can't replace you, though. Are you okay?"

Marci let out a shaky sigh, "Yeah... It just never gets any easier." She glanced down at the blood on her hands, "Plus, I only ever have that dream when something bad happens."

"Yeah, I know. It's concerning, but hopefully just this once it could've been a false alarm." Felix planted a kiss on the side of her head, "I'll go get you a change of clothes and something to clean you up."

"What would I ever do without you?" She replied.

He pulled a roll of bandages out of the nightstand, setting it on the bed. Felix went to the bathroom and went a cloth to clean her up with. "Well, you managed for a few years without me." He said as he walked back into the room.

"Barely." She muttered. Marci pulled her nightgown off over her head and folded it gently.

Using the wet rag, he started to wipe away the stains on her pale skin. "Jasper must think Micah takes pretty good care of you, considering he's still your aid. He lets me treat my own brothers. So, I don't see why he won't let me treat you."

"I think he's worried you wouldn't be able to get rough with me if I... lost it again." She painfully admitted, "But you won't leave me again, right? So that won't happen?"

"Not as long as I can help it." Felix kissed the tip of her nose, making her laugh. "There's that beautiful smile. I wouldn't give that up for anything in the world. How about after I finish patching you up, we go get a 2AM snack?"

"As long as I get something sweet." She replied.

"But, you already have me." He teased her.

Marci rolled her eyes playfully at his idiocy. Felix was pretty damn smart, but sometimes he played the roll of a fool just to make her laugh. Though she was the circus clown, in his eyes, he was the court jester and she was his queen. He finished cleaning off her skin until it was restored to it's perfect doll white. Then, he wrapped her with bandages in case it were to bleed again that night.

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Lock sauntered down the mile long steps that weaved around the manor's mountain. He had a bit of a kick in his step, probably out of amusement for his comrade's defeat. "That demon kicked your ass." He teased him.

Though the psychical damage had healed, the wounds dealt out to his ego cut pretty deep. BK remained sat on one of the steps as he leaned his weight on his oversize scythe. He watched the waters below as they crashed on the mountain side. They seemed so dark, reminding him of the murk he was nearly drowned in earlier in the night.

"I'm not too mad about it. If he threw me around that easily, it means he can protect the manor well. That's what's important." He spoke numbly, like a tired soldier.

Lock gazed up at the storm clouds above. The thunder reflected off of his chocolate eyes. It felt like Mother Nature delivering a warning, almost. When he caught his friend standing up out of the corner of his eye, he darted his sights back down. Towards the bottom of the long stone staircase, a woman was climbing up. This late, that couldn't have been good.

Through the darkness, it was hard for two humans to make out much about her. Her long hair reached down to her hips. The wind made a toy out of her long locks and torn dress. It didn't seem to phase her. One thing they could make out clearly was her red eyes. They burned with a rage unrivaled.

"If she was going to attack us, she would've done it already." BK said.

"If you want to go make friends with the crazy scary lady, be my fucking guest." Lock replied.

He groaned at his friend's childish behavior. Sometimes it was hard for him to believe Lock was older than him. BK collapsed his scythe back into a compacted rifle, tucking it behind him. Though it was a bold move, he knew no matter how stupid Lock was, he had his back. If this woman was friendly, he didn't want to insult her by approaching her with an armed weapon.

The closer he got to her, her was able to realize the heartbreaking state she was in. Her face had that look of wear that only came from crying. As a result, her eye makeup was smeared down her face. That wasn't the disturbing part, however. Her hands, bare feet, and hair were stained heavily with blood. Whether it was hers or another's was the question.

"Are you hurt?" BK asked when he saw her damage, "Or are you looking to hurt someone?"

She gritted her teeth visibly, revealing her sharp fangs hidden behind her red lipstick, "Both."

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Comment question: Guesses as to who the mystery woman is?

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Tu es la raison pour laquelle je vis = You're the reason I live