Author's note: I was having catastrophic levels writer's block with this chapter, but a breakthrough finally emerged. Here are the results!

Sebastian's ruby eyes glittered at he carefully set the thin china cup down on the elegant mahogany table, not a sound echoing as exquisite pottery met finely polished wood. "Ah, I see we have a visitor who is most eager to speak with my young master," he said with the barest show of a smile.

Ciel was staring moodily into the depths of the fire, brow furrowed slightly in thought, and it took him a moment or two to respond. "What? I'm not expecting anyone and you haven't let anyone in..."

"I believe this one has let himself in," Sebastian's long fingers loosened their hold on the fine china as his master frowned at him.

"Don't talk nonsense, Sebastian, I know very well that you don't allow anyone in the house unwelcomed," Ciel reprimanded sharply but his words were interrupted by the heavy footfalls of someone approaching them very rapidly and taking absolutely no pains to mask his arrival.

Within seconds, the heavy door of the sitting room was thrown back with impressive force as Mr. Aoshi Darcy apparated in the door frame, filling it with his rigid shoulders and the palpable wall of cold rage than encircled him like an army of bodyguards. Normally immaculate, Aoshi's hair was falling in unkempt locks around his forehead and his clothing was travel-stained and disheveled. His eyes glittered with a cold fury, almost feral in nature, like a wild beast restrained by only a thin leash.

The blazing blue orbs cast their razor-sharp glance towards Sebastian as Aoshi jerked his head curtly and rapped out harshly, "Sebastian, if you value your life you will leave. Now."

Sebastian's smile was beatific but a glint of something keen glimmered in his eye as he stepped forward to intercept the other man, Aoshi's eyes scoring blazing channels across the butler's immaculate clothing. "Mr. Darcy, a pleasure to have you at Phantomhive, as always," Sebastian replied gracefully as he discreetly moved to position himself directly in front of his young master, shielding him from their visitor's fury.

Aoshi's eyes became even more feral as he strode forward directly to confront Sebastian who did not move a millimeter from the path of the oncoming man. "Get out of the way, butler," Aoshi snarled, each syllable as sharp as the edge of a sword.

The two men froze, eyes locked and tall frames coiling inward to strike, each waiting for the slightest movement of the other to signal the start of battle. Ciel's voice broke through the silent storm of conflict swelling around them.

"Leave us, Sebastian," the boy lord's voice was firm.

Even at the command from his master, Sebastian did not move from his position. "Are you sure that is the wisest course of action, my lord?" he said quietly, still blocking Aoshi and not turning his eyes from the other man's furious stare.

"Do as I say," Ciel's voice was sharp. "Aoshi won't hurt me. I'll hear what he is so eager to tell me."

Sebastian and Aoshi stayed frozen, locked in their quiet battle of wills for a long moment before Sebastian moved gracefully aside and placed a hand on his breast, bowing as Aoshi stepped rigidly forward into the room, each footfall as heavy as lead. The path to the doorway now free of obstruction, Sebastian glided elegantly through it and closed the door gently. Barely had the latch clicked than Aoshi had covered the distance between himself and Ciel in three angry strides to stand directly in front of the Phantomhive lord, towering over the boy who sat negligently in his wing-backed chair.

Peering down from his considerable height, Aoshi clenched his hands at his side and growled out, "Give me one reason why I should not horsewhip you within an inch of your life."

"Calm down, Aoshi," Ciel said flatly. "This is not like you."

With a snarl, Aoshi sized Ciel's jacket in two angry hands and lifted the lad up to his blazing, furious face. He was deeply satisfied to see a pang of fear cross the young lord's face as his one exposed eye widened in shock.

"I want an answer, boy," Aoshi growled, his white teeth bared and flashing.

Ciel struggled, composure severely disturbed as he fought to free himself from his vengeful elder's ire. "Aoshi, unhand me at once!" he demanded, fear mixing with indignant pride as Aoshi shook him violently, barely restraining the urge to squash the imp into a damp ball of broken bones, and dropped him unceremoniously back in the chair.

The second the boy's bottom hit the rich upholstery, Aoshi slammed his hands down on the arms of the chair and leaned in heavily. Their faces almost touching, Aoshi snarled sharply, "Why Ms. Bennet? I want to know now, or God help me, I will turn you over my knee and beat you like the cur you are."

"I'll tell you!" It was only the curl of fright in the boy's voice that broke the spell of madness in Aoshi and he froze in place, his eyes dropped to his clenched hands gripping the chair's arms so tightly he was surprised the wooden frame underneath was not shattering. In a second, both hands would be around the boy's throat if he didn't regain control of himself.

With supreme effort, Aoshi withdrew a pace or two but did not let his eyes leave Ciel's. In his fury, he could barely see the young lad he had sheltered since birth – in the child's place was an enemy to be ruthlessly destroyed. Aoshi clenched his fists again, digging his fingernails into his palms to bring himself back to reality and the world slowly swung into focus again.

Ciel had righted himself too, settling back in his chair and steepling his fingers together in a thoughtful gesture, once again assuming the mantle of cool insolence that was his accustomed manner. "Do you want to know how I was first introduced to Ms. Bennet?" he said, his voice nearly flat and emotionless once again.

Aoshi did not bother to respond, merely glared at him coldly. Ciel ignored him and continued. "Sebastian found her on the rooftop of Tory Pines eavesdropping on Han'nya giving Shikijo orders about Sir John Edgington's assassination."

Aoshi's jaw tensed as he intook a sharp breath of air. Ciel kept his eyes fastened on the fire as he moved forward with his tale. "She was clearly a resourceful young woman, highly skilled and well-trained. I wished to know more of her. And when I probed deeper, I discovered that her father was as poor a financial manager as he was exceptional at gathering important information, not to mention instructing his daughter in the ways of subterfuge. The Bennet family was rapidly approaching poverty. I offered Ms...Misao a chance to reverse their fortunes and to put her considerable talents to use."

Aoshi's eyes had not moved from Ciel's face, and he interrupted tightly. "You...dared put a lady in such danger? Have you no scruples whatsoever?"

"I had enough scruples not to leave her in a life that was killing her," Ciel responded flatly, coolly ignoring the way Aoshi's eyes sharpened as the slightest sign of puzzlement pushed through the anger.

"You only know her as a society lady, Aoshi," Ciel continued. "Misao has brains, talent, and courage and also a deep conviction to do what is right. To condemn her to a life of serving tea and marrying some idiot with a fancy title would have been a waste of her skills and eventually crushed her, body and soul. I needed her, but you see," Ciel lifted his eye for the first time to meet Aoshi squarely, "she needed me too. I gave her a purpose and dowries for her sisters. Her family's future is secured and she has the freedom to expend her considerable talents for a worthy cause. What more could she ask for?"

"Pretty words," Aoshi sneered coldly. "You deck your sins in them and call them good."

"I don't pretend anything I do is good," Ciel responded with a trace of bitterness. "I do what I have been given to do, what long generations of ancestors have handed down to me as my duty."

"Have you no shame?" Aoshi ground out harshly.

"Shame?" Something as cold as Aoshi's eyes rose up in Ciel's voice as the very fire itself seemed to blaze with frozen heat. "What do you know of shame, Aoshi Darcy?" he said quietly, almost in a whisper, but a sentence that stamped through the room on legs of iron.

But something had captured Aoshi's attention, sending his head snapping up and his shoulders tensing in alertness. For a long moment, he probed forth with his keen senses, then tightness drew across his face. "She is here," he intoned heavily, his jaw clenching with barricaded emotion. Coolly, Aoshi ignored the sudden, erratic thump of his heart against his ribs and forced his tumultuous inner mind into still watchfulness. He was nearly poised steel once again when the lightest click of a latch sounded and a small, slim figure gracefully slipped through an opening window into the room.

Oh, hells, Aoshi thought to himself irritably as Misao landed softly on her feet, the light from the fire falling across her graceful, feminine form that was conspicuously minus the standard attire demanded by society. Instead, Misao was lightly clad in a pair of trousers and a simple blouse, loose enough to permit movement but clinging enough to leave absolutely no doubt about the curves lurking below. Aoshi had seen women in trousers before and had visited enough houses of ill-repute on fact-gathering missions to observe women wearing much less, but to behold a full lady of society thus attired was bewildering to the point of panic. He had an overwhelming desire to throw his cloak around her, less he be wholly undone by distraction.

Misao swung her cobalt blue eyes in Aoshi's direction and looked him full in the face. Her eyes were veiled and she manifested no surprise whatsoever at his presence in the room. But as she moved forward, Aoshi wondered how in the blazes he had been so blind as to ignore the obvious that had paraded in front of his eyes so often. It was transparent at every move of Misao's feminine, yet athletic frame, that each step was precise and controlled, skill build into every muscle, instincts honed for action. He would have instantly recognized such signs in a man; indeed, men like Aoshi did not survive long unless they had a talent for marking those who could be a threat. Such people were not always male; Aoshi had met other women who could skillfully incise holes into people and escape without detection. But Misao Bennet?

God, had he really been that foolish? Why hadn't he marked her from the beginning? It wasn't the first time Aoshi had encountered a lady of society hiding a wealth of deadly skills and cunning knowledge under a coquettishly-wielded fan and an elegant dress, and his sharp eyes had been quick to uncover their secrets. But Ms. Bennet? Never had he...

Misao's full lips tightened together as she returned Aoshi's gaze evenly. Neither party moved for several long moments, both seemingly oblivious of the other inhabitant of the sitting room. Finally her expression softened and her mouth opened with a sigh. "Mr. Darcy," Misao said quietly, "However poorly you think of me or whatever words you wish to exchange, I ask you only this." Her eyes closed for a second as if Misao was steeling herself for what was to come, then she continued. "Is my sister...?" She suddenly lost courage as her voice trailed off and her eyes tilted up pleadingly to the hard-face gentleman.

It was that expression that twisted Aoshi's innards, melting his anger and quickly blotting away memory of just why he was so furious with the lovely woman looking him full in the face, her lips close to trembling with held-back tears. "Your sister is now the wife of...Captain Wickham," Aoshi responded, stifling the urge to curse as he uttered the name. "As of this morning," he continued doggedly. "I attended the ceremony as a witness and signed the marriage certificate. The newly married couple is returning to your parents under the escort of an acquaintance of mine to ensure that their journey is safe."

And that Wickham doesn't 'accidentally' lead them astray, Aoshi added silently. Things had not fared well for the young captain, Aoshi had seen to it personally, and he doubted that the man would be able to walk comfortably for quite some time. Aoshi would perhaps have shown some mercy if the bastard hadn't foolishly divulged that he was less than thrilled with his choice of amorous partner and hinted non-too-subtly that should Aoshi be inclined to return the girl to her father's house, her reluctant fiancè would not protest. Only the fact that it would utterly ruin Ayama to leave her as a widow before she had a husband prevented Aoshi from leaving Wickham's strung-up corpse from the nearest handy tree. But he had shown enough mercy to ensure that the groom-to-be was able to walk up the aisle unassisted. Just barely.

Aoshi had no intention of divulging this distasteful information to Misao, and from the look of frank relief that had just washed over her face, he knew that discretion was his best course of action. Misao's blue eyes closed again for a long moment and when they opened, he saw the barest glimmer of a tear trembling in her long eyelashes. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she said quietly. "From the bottom of my heart and the deepest parts of my soul, I thank you. I can never repay you for the kindness you have shown my family."

Dammit, Aoshi thought to himself as warm emotions engulfed him, completely swamping the storm of fury and cold calculation that had previously claimed him and sending odd, alarming trills of something soft and golden creeping into his veins. He was vaguely aware that in the very recent past, he had wanted nothing more than to strangle Ciel, skewer Sebastian with the nearest sharp object, and then pick a rousing quarrel with Misao until he broke down that cursed stubbornness in her. However, now standing in the light of the radiant thankfulness and relief pouring from her eyes, Aoshi could not think of anything else that was the slightest bit important, only that Misao's expression of near adoration never leave her face when she looked at him.

Aoshi was also aware that Misao seemed to be much less discombobulated by his presence than he was of her slender, elegant frame so near to him. So consumed was Aoshi with his inner struggles that he said not a word as something hard slid across Misao's expression, replacing the warmth and softness. Turning her head from him, Misao stepped gracefully across the room to seat herself in a chair facing the young lord, leaving Aoshi to stand in the middle of the room with an expression of bafflement plain on his face.

Aoshi continued to gape for several seconds as Misao turned her attention to the Phantomhive lord. "Any last-minute orders?" she questioned tiredly. It had been a very long two days since her unexpected encounter with Aoshi Darcy at the raucous party and in a way, Misao had been grateful for the distraction: Ciel had keep her busy enough that she scarcely had time to breath, let alone think. That night, after she had left Aoshi standing in the parlor and marched back into the clamorous chaos of the party, Misao had lost herself in the crowd, always alert for any sign of her sister and determinedly squashing down the clamoring worry burbling in her stomach and reverberating in every nerve. With a strength of will she did not know she possessed, Misao had walled off the anxious concern, forcing it to abide inside a mental box for leisurely examination later, and used every sense at her disposal to track down Kanryū.

After much searching, Misao had finally gotten her prey in her sights, and then smiled prettily. It was time to turn coy as their eyes met and she quickly flitted behind the shelter of a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, waiting for Kanryū to seek her out.

"My dear Madam Noir," a voice like oiled silk had slipped unpleasantly into her ear as she stood observing the party. Coyly, Misao swiveled her head to cock her ear enticingly in his direction. Kanryū was behind her, and his hot breath was sticky against her neck, but she fluttered her fan against her face as if pleased.

"You have been most temptingly absent as of late, Madam," Kanryū continued, his wet lips hovering only a few inches above Misao's bare neck. With very little effort he could have dropped his mouth to her neck, and her skin crawled at the thought.

"Ah, what can I say in my defense?" Misao responded lightly. "Officium me vocat. There has been much...business which calls my attention."

"I would be most happy to offer you my assistance if you would but accept it," Kanryū said with a purr, honey rising on his tongue.

Misao paused for a moment, letting her fan flutter to drive away some of the warmth of the room and Kanryū's unwanted body heat. Then she spoke again, quietly and in an intimate whisper reserved only for Kanryū's ears. "Lau is being considered for a position on the board of directors for the East India Company," she breathed to Kanryū. "I only recently found this out."

Kanryū inhaled and Misao could practically see the the sudden sharpness rising in his eyes though her back was to him. Such a position was highly coveted by any businessman with ambition and would put a man in considerable wealth for life if he achieved it. However, competition was brutal. The chance that his greatest rival could very well rise above him was something that Kanryū would simply not permit.

The air between the two was tense for a moment, then Kanryū responded slowly, "I had heard that Lord Marchweather had died a fortnight ago and his position was open on the board."

"Yes," Misao responded. "But..." she rose an eyebrow pointedly. "Exactly how he died is not as well known."

"He cut himself shaving is what I heard happened," Kanryū said, his voice puzzled.

"That is what is being said," Misao breathed to Kanryū. "He very well could have cut himself shaving and bled to death before anyone could help him. The coroner saw nothing suspicious about the scene. But then again," Misao's voice dropped so that Kanryū had to lean in closer, the fabric of his suit pressing against her tightly-corseted back. "I recently learned that Lord Marchweather had stopped shaving himself almost a year ago when his hands became too shaky to hold a razor blade safely. His butler is puzzled why the man had decided to shave himself that morning. And it was a frightfully deep cut for a man to make on himself unintentionally."

Misao could feel Kanryū's mind ticking intently. After a moment or two, he responded lightly, "Oh my pretty lady, you are deliciously resourceful. Tell me, where do you find this information?"

Giving him a look over her shoulder, Misao smiled mysteriously and said, "I have long discovered that many doors open to a pretty face."

"You are indeed correct," Kanryū responded. "But.." he paused and Misao could feel a touch of wariness rising in his energy. "This is a conversation best saved for private." Dropping his head even lower, his lips just grazed her ear as he whispered, "The balcony in the east wing. Five minutes."

Misao giggled lightly and rotated around to tap him on the chest with the tip of her fan. "Patience, patience, my good sir," she purred. "Do you not know that it is a lady's prerogative to arrive fashionably late if she chooses?" And without another word, Misao gathered her full skirts and sailed out into the crowded room, a tiny comet of black satin and lace traversing a meteor field of people and leaving Kanryū behind to watch her blaze a path through the crowd.

Misao made him wait fifteen minutes before she unfurled herself from the corner of the balcony she had been lurking in, so patently not there that Kanryū had been pacing and muttering to himself for several minutes without suspecting that Madam Noir was hiding not ten feet away from him. When she judged he was ready, she stepped gracefully from the shadows as if she had just arrived on the scene.

Kanryū's face creased into a smirk that seemed to strip away Misao's clothes down to her bare skin, so intense was his stare. She made eye contact as best she could, trying to send the message that his ocular suggestions were more than welcomed, despite her worry over how convincing her expression was. Kanryū, however, seemed more than encouraged by the messages he interpreted pouring out of her deep blue eyes and he strutted forward boldly to meet her.

"So Madam," he said oily, lifting her hand to his mouth for a long kiss, "We are alone. At last."

Misao murmured a throaty laugh. "Yes, indeed we are."

Kanryū's long fingers began stroking the back of her hand in slow circles. "So soft and frail," he murmured over her hand.

Misao dropped her head. "So alone," she said quietly.

"Alone, Madam?" Kanryū stopped in his ministrations. "I am here with you."

Misao said nothing for a moment, letting Kanryū intently examine her with concerned eyes as his fingers continued their ministrations. Finally she responded hesitantly, "Lau suspects that I know something about Lord Marchweather."

"Knows?" Kanryū frowned. "Are you in danger?" he questioned.

Misao bit her full lips, thinking not for the first time how much simpler things would be if a knife were to suddenly materialize between Kanryū's ribs. She had a distinct feeling Aoshi Darcy would agree with her and also volunteer to be the one steering the knife, but the thought of Mr. Darcy was rather alarmingly distracting, and she pushed past it hurriedly.

"Perhaps..." Misao answered slowly, letting her creamy brow knit just slightly with worry.

Kanryū seized Misao's hands in both of his as he gazed at her intently. "My dear Madam Noir," he said with quick decisiveness. "I cannot bear the thought of any danger or threat coming to you. Please, won't you accept my protection?" His long fingers gripped her hands tighter and Misao bit back the alarm coiling in her belly. She hated her hands being restrained and although Kanryū's grip was still relatively moderate, she could sense the strength lurking in those long, slightly sticky fingers.

"Your protection?" Misao repeated, pursing her lips in a moue of confusion.

"Yes," Kanryū repeated, and the oiliness of his tones deepened. "I offer you sanctuary in my mansion. You will be well-guarded and I swear on my life no harm will come to you."

"Mr. Takeda!" Misao gasped, blinking her huge blue eyes and trying hard to give off the impression that she was surprised, yet flattered. The thought of what he was offering was alarming to the extreme, and every sense was clamoring for a hasty retreat, preferably after leaving Kanryū bent over and groaning. But what he was offering her would open a world of information-gathering possibilities if she managed the situation carefully.

"Please, I insist upon it," Kanryū pressed. "I know Lau: he will suffer none to stand in his way and if he has any inkling that you possessed information that would prevent him from achieving his goals, he will not hesitate to destroy you." Kanryū's smile deepened as he stepped closer to Misao, grazing the front of her dress with his evening coat. "My security detail is excellent, and you will be attended with every luxury and comfort." His voice dropped lower. "Please," he said, all courtesy and concern but something glided in his tones like a snake.

Misao dropped her eyes demurely to the side. "I..." she hesitated, "I have my honor as a lady..."

"Your honor is my privilege to guard," Kanryū insisted. "I have no thought of dishonor towards you, only your safety, my lady," the man persisted, his mouth inches from Misao's forehead. She kept her eyes demure as if in thought, but she could not avoid his gaze as one of his hands loosened from her fingers and gently lifted her chin upwards, directing her eyes up to his. "I could not bear it if any harm were to come to you," Kanryū said with husky sensuality, sending Misao's skin clammy with distaste.

Swallowing discreetly, Misao made herself return his gaze. His other hand was still holding both of hers, and she forced her fingers to grip his hand lightly as she gazed into his eyes, carefully weighing what she found there. On the surface was courtly concern but underneath was an ocean of lust and plans and triumph raging like a wild beast. Fleeting, Misao considered simply pushing Kanryū off the balcony and fleeing this horribly place, but what he was offering her, risky as it was, could very well give her the keys to his complete downfall.

After a long moment, Misao responded demurely, "You must allow me a day or two to prepare."

Kanryū' smile exulted in triumph as his lips curved like a scimitar's blade. "But of course, my lady."

Ciel was staring intently at Misao for several minutes as she leaned against the plumply cushioned chair, remembering the events of two days ago. Finally he spoke. "Are you sure this is an action you wish to take, Misao?" he questioned with uncharacteristic concern.

Aoshi stiffened to attention. "What action?" he demanded harshly as he strode over to where the two were seated.

Misao's eyes flashed up at him, knowing that he would not stop until he dragged the truth out of them both. Feeling inevitability staring her in the face, she responded tiredly, "For months now, I have taken on the persona of a certain Madam Noir, a lady who has involvement in the opium industry," she responded tiredly. "I have been cultivating an...acquaintance with Kanryū Takeda to draw him into my confidence and discover his secrets so that his empire may be overthrown."

"Misao has gathered much that is useful to our purposes," Ciel added. Coming from the boy lord, this was high praise indeed.

Aoshi was drawing himself upwards, storm clouds gathering in his eyes, but Misao did not waver from her tale. There would be little hiding information from the gentleman now, and she saw no point in camouflaging the truth. Continuing, she stated simply, "I styled myself as the former lover of Qing Bang Lau and fed Kanryū enough information for him to believe me." Misao turned her eyes towards Aoshi. "The night you and I...saw through each other's disguises, I made Kanryū believe that Lau was threatening me because of information I supposedly had about Lord Marchweather's death."

Misao assumed that Aoshi knew the names she was mentioning, and since there wasn't any confusion in the gentleman's eyes, so she decided further clarification was unnecessary. This left the final part of her tale, and she wearily braced herself for Aoshi's reaction.

Hemming a little, Misao stated simply, "When Kanryū heard that Lau suspected me of knowing valuable information, he offered me protection in his house. I accepted and will be entering his household tonight."

"No." The word seemed to echo from the heavens as Aoshi's blazing eyes rained down fire on Misao. "You. Will. Not." Each word was as final and absolute as the edict of a god.

Misao sighed heavily. "This is too excellent an opportunity to pass up, Mr. Darcy, dangerous as it may be. I will have much access to Kanryū's records..."

"Ms. Bennet, if I have to chain you in the basement of my own house to prevent this mad scheme of yours from happening, I will do so," Aoshi rapped out sharply in a voice that would have cut diamonds, and she knew he meant every word.

In the razor-sharp tenseness of the air, Misao laughed, a short burst of sound that held utterly no humor. "I fail to see why that is a more honorable alternative to the course I have set for myself, Mr. Darcy," she responded dryly.

"Sebastian will be with her," the young Phantomhive lord stated, interrupting the terse, angry dialogue between his guests. Aoshi's head swiveled sharply to the other chair as if he had completely forgotten about the third occupant in the room. "He will be disguised and serving as her butler," Ciel continued. "She will be safe with him, Aoshi."

"I promise on my honor as a butler that I will allow no harm to come to Ms. Bennet," a third voice rang out, and Aoshi's tight jaw hardened, practically cracking his teeth under the strain. Like a phantom, the tall, elegant butler appeared between Misao and Ciel and directly faced Aoshi. With a smile, he placed one hand on his breast and the other on the back of Misao's chair, an inch or two from her shining hair.

Aoshi's fingers automatically reached for the kodachi at his side as he observed Sebastian's fingers resting on Misao's chair. The gesture was far too intimate and familiar, and Aoshi was surprised Misao and Ciel did not protest. It was then that a sharp blow of realization smashed into Aoshi: with the tale that she had just poured forth, it was patently obvious that Misao and Sebastian must have been working in close proximity for months. Misao's casual entrance into the room, her direct address of the young boy lord, her utter lack of surprise or unfamiliarity with any of the events that had proceeded that evening, all spoke volumes. Sebastian was no mere employer to his young master: their bond was far deeper, and Aoshi's rage intensified as he realized that the ruby-eyed servant had very likely become something akin to a colleague to the dark-haired young woman at his side. To see the evidence parading in front of his face and to hear that the butler would be accompanying Misao to Kanryū's was ample fuel to the dark fire of rage and jealousy tearing its hot trails across Aoshi's innards.

"I have commanded Sebastian to protect Misao," Ciel said flatly. "He will not fail me." No, he will not, Aoshi added silently and the thought only intensified his fury. To know that this...servant would be all that stood between Ms. Bennet and danger and dishonor while he, Aoshi Darcy, could do nothing, was more than he could withstand.

Seated not four feet from where Aoshi stood warring with himself, Misao felt shame creep over her and she could scarce meet his eyes. The task before her was crucial, and she would not shirk from it. She trusted Sebastian to guard not only her life but her honor as well. But the memory of Kanryū's smirk and the lustful triumph panting in his eyes made her stomach clench. Despite his hollow words of assurance, she knew his offer of protection was a veneer of excuse for his true objective, and it would take all of her guile and cunning to evade him until she had obtained the information her employer wanted. But she dreaded the task at hand and were the stakes not so high, she would not embark on this venture.

But Aoshi was on the move. Stepping forward to stand directly in front of her chair, he growled out, "Why?" his voice pushing its way though rigid lips, filling the heavy air. Seeming oblivious to the others in the room, he moved until his legs were almost brushing her knees and his head leaned down to shoot daggers from his eyes. "Why do you sell yourself so dearly?" Aoshi demanded, rage and fatigue sending him swaying just slightly. He had not slept or eaten in so long he could not count the days and the room seemed to be closing in on him, drowning out all but the ocean-blue eyes staring at him with courage and fear and desperate determination.

A heavy silence, as long as a century, followed Aoshi's echoing question as Misao seemed to shrink under his violent gaze, dissolving into the rich upholstery of the chair. But her small shoulders rolled upwards and her voice broke forth, quietly but with a strength like a forest. "Because I have seen the misery and sorrow Kanryū has created," she answered slowly. "I have seen the drug-addled girls forced to sell their bodies until life becomes too unbearable and death at their own hands is welcome." She paused for a moment and her voice gained new strength. "Because I have seen a doctor sworn to heal who was instead forced to make a drug that killed and the knowledge of her actions slayed her every day. Because I know countless thousands more will suffer and die if I do not do this."

Aoshi's expression had not changed but Misao was drawing strength from her own inner fire. "Because this task has come into my hands and to abandon it would shame me for the rest of my days, far more than any dishonor a pathetic insect like Kanryū could ever lay at my feet. Because I wish to die, whether it be in a week or many decades from now, with a clean conscious and the knowledge that my life had worth. Because I could not turn away from this task and face myself every morning in the knowledge of what I had left undone because I lacked courage to do it."

Silence. No one in the room moved and even the small fire did not snap or crack: it was as if the inhabitants of the sitting room had been captured on a daguerreotype, the moment in time frozen for all eternity. Misao could not tear her eyes away from Aoshi's face, not avoid the broiling turmoil of fury and helplessness and, yes, hatred, that raged in his eyes and poured over her like acid.

Suddenly the silence was broken as a roar of impotent rage erupted from Aoshi and shook the rafters of the room. As he bellowed, Aoshi stormed towards the door, ripping it open then slamming it shut with enough force to leave a large crack in the heavy wood. Thunderous footsteps sounded in the hallway and died away as the enraged gentleman tore his way through the elegant mansion and was gone.

As the seconds ticked by, Misao felt her heart began to beat once more as her pulse fluttered from adrenaline. Shakiness rose up in her nerves in the aftermath of the conflict and with danger now past, sorrow began filling her stomach like lead. It's over, she thought with heart-breaking finality and grief. Aoshi had loved her once, she knew that, had poured out his heart and offered her his love and protection, and she had angrily spurned it over a misunderstanding. Yet, her rejection and their hard conversation had not cooled his affection, for he had answered the charges she had laid at his feet and done what he could to mend his error. His words of just two nights ago were not ones from a man who has wholly lost the love he once cherished for a woman.

"Was my offer of marriage so reprehensible to you, Ms. Bennet, that you preferred to risk your life, your honor, and your future by giving your allegiance to Phantomhive?"

"For you, Ms. Bennet, yes. I would have gladly taken you as my wife, knowing you did not love me, rather than...this."

Misao's full-lashed eyes closed in pain as grief washed over her. For the first time, she allowed herself to fully examine her heart and the evidence was overwhelmingly plain: against all determination, proof, and common sense, she had fallen in love with Aoshi Darcy. Having fought her feelings for so long, it was heartbreaking excruciating to finally realize this love in the same moment of time she had just lost his affections forever.

And now he was gone. Misao had read the anger and disgust in Aoshi's face as clearly as if he had struck her: he was horrified and repulsed that she would lower herself to such an action, would willingly accept the protection of another man and enter his house without marrying him. Even if it was done in disguise and subterfuge for a solid reason, Misao knew that this was an action Aoshi could not countenance, that the very notion was repugnant to him. Thus, she had become repugnant to him and had lost whatever standing and esteem she had once held in his eyes.

The realization nearly brought Misao to tears, and she bit her lip furiously to hold back her emotions. Ciel, meanwhile, was watching her with that strange, uncharacteristic concern once again in his eyes. "Are you well, Misao?" he questioned quietly.

No, she was not well. The world was falling apart under her feet like ground melting under lava, but she would not bow to the pain. Her father had taught her mastery of emotions as well as the body, and she would not succumb to grief, not when so much was at stake,

"We have work to do," Misao responded tightly, her words sharp and decisive. Rising firmly to her feet, she said, "Sebastian, I expect you at my quarters by ten. Do not be late." Tears would wait. One day in the future, she would have leisure to fully examine her newly-realized love for Aoshi Darcy and mourn what she had lost. But now was not the time. Such soft emotions could easily get her and her companions killed. For now, resolve and guile were her allies.

Sebastian bowed obediently. "At your command, my lady Noir," he said as his eyes flashed in the light of the fire crackling on the hearth.

Misao ignored him and padded quickly over to the window, her heart heavy in her breast. Before entering into the dark night, she paused, her eyes drawing back to the boy lord in the room. "Do not forget our agreement, Ciel Phantomhive," she said in dark tones.

His response was quiet but definite. "You will be safe, Misao. Sebastian will be with you..."

"I said, do not forget our agreement," Misao repeated harshly.

Ciel paused, and he swung his eye around to meet her, the one exposed orb piercing but with a sheen of kindness. "Your family will be taken care of, Misao, if anything were to happen to you," he said firmly. "I swear this upon my own dead family." The last sentence was heavy, and Misao's eyes flew to the painting above the hearth: the handsome man with his hand protectively on the shoulder of a lovely woman, a child with black hair and a wide smile on his face. It was in that moment that Misao realized for the first time that the ornate ring decorating the man's finger was also flashing on Ciel's hand as he crossed his fingers pensively in front of his face.

Not tearing her eyes from the ring, Misao pronounced heavily, "I accept your oath, Ciel Phantomhive," and disappeared into the dark night.

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