Eyes of Purple

Chapter Ten, Part One

I wonder... If we could speak right now without any consequences, Michael... What would you do?

I ponder how you would react, to see me again.

Would you think I'm her... Do you hate her, Michael?

Do you hate me, for what I did?

I hope you do. You were so angry when I left. Better to hate me, than to hate yourself.

... Good luck with your father.

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Michael wouldn't look him in the eyes as they walked. His gaze was straight ahead, and his jaw was clenched together in a hard lock. Clearly, he was about to say something difficult, as swiftly and as gentle as possible. William had the same look whenever he was going to speak to the the company's board.

William also had the same look the very last time he'd spoken to Henry... But that was a conversation he never allowed himself to dwell on.

"I can't do this."

"Can't do what?" William responded, calmly. Michael frowned.

Michael gestured to William, then himself. "This. Talking to you like nothing's wrong. Acting like I'm perfectly fine with what you've and I've done." Well. At least Michael wasn't yelling at him.

"... Fine."

"Fine?"

"Go gather your thoughts. Find a quiet place. I shall wait here... And then we will talk." Michael looked at him with obvious skepticism, and William shrugged. "You have a right to doubt me. But I promise I shall not move from this spot until you return. Go."

"Very well." And with that, Michael turned on his heel and left.

"Just as salty as ever," William sighed.

"I could say the same about you, First."

He knew that voice. She almost- almost- sounded amused. William could hear her, but couldn't see where she was. Just childlike drawings littering the walls, and a box pushed against the corner.

"How are you here?"

"Someone brought me." Just like that, the amusement was gone. William had forgotten how touchy she was about certain things.

Her hands draped themselves over his shoulders, and he could feel her light weight resting on his back. Shocks whispered down his spine, and he shivered.

"How are you here, First..." If voices were a tangible thing, hers was snow. Pretty to look at, not so easy to approach. And every second in its wake must be planned very care..

"I am here because it is my job," William whispered. Carefully. Oh, so carefully.

The marionette with no strings. She could be set off easier than William ever could.

"A good answer..."

(A/N: Aaaaaaaand yet again, I am forced to create another two-parter chapter, to keep what is left of my sanity

(I really wanted to focus on the Puppet and William here. Had I kept this a single chapter, you would quickly lose that in the wake of all the information you would have been introduced to. Annoying, but necessary...)