Hospital For Souls (M i c h a e l i s) [Kuroshitsuji 3]{Completed}

The Interval: All The King's Horses

And then I found out how hard it is to really change.

Even hell can get comfy once you've settled in.

I just wanted the lonely inside me to leave.

No matter how fucked you get, there's always hell when you come back down.

He bends, pressing his lips to hers in a fluid motion, and smiles when he feels them move against his mouth.

Her eyes open, a magnificent, gleaming, lively blue.

"Adrian?" Charlotte gasps.

It's worked. It's worked, it's worked, and oh – she knows his name, she remembers the sound of his voice, and the soul that he has created, it seems to have taken, rooting inside her chest, finding its place amongst the strings of her heart.

"Hello," he murmurs , his sharpened, crooked teeth emerging in an almost excited grin. "Hello, darling. How are you feeling?"

"What..." Her tone is dazed, and her slim, paper-white hand comes out from underneath the folds of her dress, to feel for the edge of the slab she is lying on. "What has happened? I feel... odd."

"What is the last thing you can remember?" Ignoring the sound of Grace whining behind him, Undertaker takes a stool and pulls it closer, sitting down so that he can take her fingers in his own, grasping them tightly. The warmth is beginning to return to them.

"I... I do not know. I can't – I can't tell you." Charlotte Farrow sounds slightly anxious now. "What happened? Why can I not remember?"

"It's alright. Give it a moment, it will come back to you in time." He allows his thumb to flick across her knuckles, stroking, gentle.

"I remember you leaving." She hauls herself up with a groan, joints creaking as though they are in danger of snapping from disuse. "You left, to see that horrible William, and I was ill... I was so very ill. I fell asleep, I should think."

Fell asleep. Should he allow her to believe that? But she will discover the scars on her chest soon enough, question why she is slower, clumsier, why she cannot go outside. "I am going to tell you something that may be hard to believe," Undertaker begins cautiously.

"Which is what?" The edges of Charlotte's soft voice sharpen slightly. "What's wrong?"

"You died, my dear. I have restored you."

She blinks, delicate lashes closing around sapphire eyes for a mere second. "I... but that is impossible. You can't bring people back from the dead, Undertaker."

He resists the urge to smile at the old nickname – after all, it would only be seen as bizarre, considering the situation. "I have found away. I've been searching, experimenting for quite some time. And it has finally taken effect, on you."

"...but..." Charlotte is struggling with her words. "I... but, why? You must have had... I don't understand. I mean, I understand, but..." She trails off. It is true; after all, Undertaker, a retired Death God and mortician combined, would be most well equipped in the science of resurrection. And she has seen him do things; amazing things, so that part is not so hard to believe.

But...

"Why?" Her gentle gaze is crossed with lines of confusion – and pain of acceptance.