Luna saw Zoisite turn the knob and push the stiff door inward. It gave with a groan, as was appropriate for a house of this sort.

She'd heard him say something into the door, breathy and soft, about the knob being hot. She moved to follow him as he stepped across the threshold, to tell him he was full of nonsense.

But she should have known better. A chill, but not from the night, ruffled the fur between her ears. They promptly flattened themselves and the crescent moon on her brow glinted. It was then that she caught the brief and sickly scent of something burning. Bounding two steps forward, she faltered and moved back one. What was she afraid of? What indeed! As Zoisite disappeared through the doorway, Luna realized her hesitation had cost her.

A sudden glare spilled from the windows and door, as though the house had suddenly opened its twenty-three eyes. Luna shied away from it, the glow turning her pupils into tiny slits. She backed up until her rear caught in the dogwood.

Then, faster than the bat of an eye, the light was out again, and the house was dark and silent.

Luna wasted no more time in irresolution. Charging forward, she slipped inside just as the door sifted shut. The smell was stronger in here, but there was no smoke, and no heat.

"Zoisite!" she called out timidly. Her feet pattered softly in the foyer, and her whiskers bristled.

But Zoisite was not there.

For a moment, he didn't wonder where he was. The quilt beneath his cheek was soft and supple, molding to him, supporting him in as gentle an embrace as an inanimate object could provide. He knew he was no longer in the house, and that the cat was no longer by his side.

But he was not lost. In fact, as he buried his face into the silken material, a familiar scent was drawn in with his breath. And he knew, at last, he was home.

His room. Their room. His and Kunzite's, within the heart of the Dark Kingdom.

It was just as he had left it the morning of the attack. So neat and so sparse, it barely looked inhabited at all. But the curving stone tendrils of the floor and ceiling were every bit as familiar as Zoisite's own face.

He sat up, cautiously, slowly, too lost in wonderment and the warmth of memory to puzzle at how he'd gotten here. Perhaps, he thought to himself with only the slight sadness of fancy. Perhaps it never happened. Perhaps there was never a battle, never a house in the woods, and that Kunzite-sama was waiting to take him and hold him until the queen called from her throne. Even the old witch's claws would be a welcome sight right now.

Smiling to himself he slid of his old bed, crossed the old room, and slipped out the old door.

Striding down the polished hall, he goggled with inane smiles at the objects trivialized before but now gushed at in recognition. The door to the study, always shut. The bath into which Zoisite had difficulty venturing without blushing. The scuff on the floor, the stairs down into the open area.

As he leaned against the gnarled railing and peered out over the main floor, he noticed a tiny form bent over a table, its shoulders hunched in earnest concentration. Zoisite marked the ash skin and ridiculous uniform. A servant youma.

Clucking to himself in a feckless and unkingly fashion, Zoisite trampled down the wrought stairway. Tripping a few times, he skipped up to the youma's side.

"You there," he said. "Have you seen..." he trailed off, then silenced. The youma did not lift her head, nor turn to acknowledge his presence. Zoisite tried again.

"Excuse me." His words seemed loud, and in this large room whose cluttered architecture stifled the voice, an echo rang where there was none before. Refusing the unregal urge to reach out and tap the youma's shoulder, Zoisite instead paced around to look at her face.

She was pretty, as most Kingdom demons were, her thin neck bent at an angle that revealed the pointed knobs of her spine. Her lips were parted to let the light touch the subtle tips of her fangs. But her eyes were closed, and no breath could be seen shifting her narrow ribcage. Her clawed hands gripped the table, but weakly, as though one prod could send her sighing to the ground.

Zoisite stepped back, suddenly weak at the knees, the room rising and falling in front of his eyes. Before he had a chance to regain his balance, there came a loud noise- like hissing- and a bright light that blinded him.

"Zoisite! Zoisite!"

That high little voice, full of urgency. Two tiny prods dug into his shoulder blade, pummeling him into consciousness. As his head cleared, the pressure on his back became recognizable as two cat's paws.

Zoisite opened his eyes, only to focus upon a row of dusty floorboards. The house. Oh God. He was back here again. An unexpected rage flared up inside him, and he jumped to his feet.

"Watch where you step!" Luna's voice barked up at him.

But Zoisite didn't listen, his fists trembling and his eyes tearing. In his state, the only words he could place together was a furious repetition of, "What happened? What happened?"

"Will you hush?!" Luna hissed. "You'll wake the others... if they aren't awake already."

Zoisite's wild stare snapped down upon the cat, and she flinched.

"Luna," he whispered, one tear falling to make a dark spot on the floor.

"Now stop that," Luna said, regaining her poise.

"But I was back... in the Dark Kingdom. I was home...." He opened his hands, as if begging for a resolution.

"Stop that," Luna repeated, a tiny cat smile on her tiny cat face. "I can tell you what happened. And it is good!"

"What then?" asked Zoisite, suddenly weary.

"Well," said Luna, the regular tone of mystery in her narration, "I think you just found the way out." Eliciting no reaction, she explained. "I hadn't dare hope that this would happen, because it happened merely by chance. Remember how I said this house was a creation? Every creation has its weaknesses. And for a brief few moments, you passed through."

"You mean," Zoisite sat down on the floor, "I was truly in the Dark Kingdom? I truly left this house?"

"Yes!" Luna smiled. "The very same thing happened to you that happened to the earlier prisoners within this house. Like them, you were pushed out of here with a fluctuation in the spell. But unlike them, you seemed to know where to go."

"The Dark Kingdom."

"The Dark Kingdom. Though I can't imagine what you did there, seeing as it was laid dormant by Serenity."

"Of course," whispered Zoisite. "The Dark Kingdom sleeps; the ginzuishou did that. But.... I came back here?" He frowned.

"That I can't explain," Luna shrugged. Then with fanned whiskers, "Perhaps you didn't want to leave your Kunzite-sama here."

"So..." said Zoisite, in his own frame of thought, "there is a way out of here?"

"Barely. What I mean is, this is impossible to predict. There's no way of telling whether or not it will even happen again!"

"Never mind that!" Zoisite leaped to his feet. "Any weakness is bound to show itself again! I shall tell Kunzite-sama, and we will wait for another opportunity!" He took a short sprint to the stairs.

"Wait!" Luna called.

He halted and looked back.

"Be careful what you tell your Kunzite-sama. Remember what I told you of him."

A miffed expression crossed Zoisite's face, then his lip protruded reproachfully. "I should think I know more about Kunzite than you do." He turned and marched noisily up the stairs.

Zoisite's eyes were aglow and he smiled all the way to the bedroom door, not caring if he woke the others. With this taste of home, frozen as it may have been, he was determined to nest there with Kunzite. At least they would be out of this goddamn house.

Pulling open the door, his eyes were greeted by an empty, unmade bed. He traced across the dark floor boards to a shadow cast by the windows light. Suddenly cautious, Zoisite slipped into the room to take a look.

By the window, Kunzite stood, clothed from the waist down, staring out at the tree-top silhouettes.

"Kunzite-sama," said Zoisite softly. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Nor I you," replied Kunzite, turning away from the window. The shadows covered the silver king's face, and for once, Zoisite could not see his eyes. He took a step forward. "Where were you going in your boots, Zoisite?"

"I was...." Zoisite looked down, then up again. "I have something to tell you."

"I should think so," Kunzite's strides were long, and with two of them, he had Zoisite trapped against the now-closed door. "Where have you been with your boots on?"

"Kunzite-sama - " Zoisite forced a giggle into his voice.

"Haven't you realized you're not safe here?" Kunzite's voice rose just a little. "Haven't you realized by now what could happen to you?"

He reached out and grabbed Zoisite by the shoulders. Zoisite squirmed, eyes wide and bewildered. This wasn't Kunzite's touch. It grew tighter, each finger digging to the bone. "Kunzite-sama!"

"You're careless. How dare you leave on your own like that?"

Zoisite quit struggling, seized by a sudden foolhardiness. He said softly, "I don't need your permission to do such things."

All of a sudden, his balance was lost, and he tumbled towards the wall. His cheekbone throbbed and he felt with trembling fingers the spot where Kunzite's hand had struck. "Kunzite-sama...."

Kunzite's expression skewed, then softened, but only to be replaced by one of even greater ferocity.

Zoisite cried as he was pulled into a suffocating embrace. He thrashed about, unable to breathe.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Kunzite said into Zoisite's ear, his breathing hot and forceful. "You're so beautiful." With that, he pressed his face into Zoisite's hair, in turn crushing the young king's head into the base of his throat.

Zoisite writhed and gagged; the smell of the house was all over Kunzite. He stank of it. Zoisite pushed away from him, suddenly aware, and absolutely terrified. But Kunzite kept him bound within his arms, relentless. "Zoisite, why are you struggling? We only want to hold you."

Zoisite froze, then looked up at Kunzite's face. "'We?'"

Suddenly, Kunzite's arms were loose, and Zoisite was released to stumble back against the door. There he remained, gasping, his heart in his throat.

Kunzite seemed shocked, for he stood with his hands at his side, his eyes distant.

Seeing his advantage, Zoisite rose and opened the door. "I shall spend the remainder of the night elsewhere, Kunzite-sama."

Kunzite didn't move and didn't speak, even as Zoisite left the room and closed the door behind him.

Zoisite didn't care what noise he made as he strode down the hall, what sleeping demons he awoke. "Oh Kunzite-sama," he whispered, chewing on his thumb, "it seems you will not be my protector here anymore." He reached the stairwell. "But I'll make sure they don't keep hold of you for long."

Down the stairs he clattered, the shadows seeming to jump away from him as he moved.

Luna still sat where he'd left her, wide-eyed at his sudden return. If she'd said anything to him at that very moment, he didn't hear it. Instead, he passed her by and disappeared down a hall.

The kitchen was lit a dull grey by the small paned windows of its south wall. Zoisite's boots clacked on the brown tile, and the noise made him bolder still.

In the dim light, the knife handles were little more than black wooden blobs protruding from the rack. But when he seized one and brought its friendly blade into view, its sharpness shone.

How many strikes would it take to separate Kunzite from these phantoms? Zoisite did not know. But if he failed, one strike upon himself would send him as far as he wanted to go.