Jules wondered why they had to let him go alone. Deadmoon didn’t have a door, but had instead turned and gone down the stairs where the chicken had attacked them. In all reality, he always felt a little better with either Fogg or someone who knew how to fight.

He took another step, and suddenly found himself on the Prometheus again, only this time alone in the cargo bay with Countess D’Anjou pointing the gun at him again.

“It’s been a while, Jules,” D’Anjou said, lowering the gun, “I wondered when I would see you again.”

Jules glared at her, his defenses up. He wouldn’t let her hurt him again, but D’Anjou smiled at him and dropped the gun, “No more fighting, Jules. You know where you belong. You’ve known we were soul mates. Ever since we met at the ball. I can see you fighting this, but it’s no use.”

Jules backed up slightly, “No use? We aren’t soul mates. You tricked me, and tried to kill me and my friends! How are we soul mates?”

D’Anjou shook her head and moved forward, causing Jules to back up slightly and find himself against a wall, “My love, you’re confused. The Foggs have clouded your mind with their lies. Just wait here, just stay here with me.”

“NO!” Despite his answer, Jules felt as if he was putting up with a mental and physical battle was occurring, his will pitted against hers. Whatever was happening, hopefully it would happen fast and he could get the pressure off his brain.

D’Anjou backed up at the yelling, then smirked slightly, “I see. You don’t like my form. What about another? How about that beautiful Asian priestess? Yes, I know about her. She captured your heart, didn’t she?” D’Anjou’s face shifted until it looked too much like Amateratsu to ignore. Jules felt his heart being torn as he moved away from the uber-Amateratsu. The strain grew as he did so, but then D’Anjou spoke, and it was her voice that made him remember who it really was beneath the mask. Despite the face, it was still D’Anjou’s voice, not that of Amateratsu.

“We can be happy. I’m out of the Count’s control! We--.”

“We? There is no we, Helen,” Jules found himself nearing the hole where he and Rebecca had planned to throw over the boxes and were instead “thrown” over. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me, you used me!”

The fake face fell and D’Anjou glared now at Jules, “I thought you would understand! I thought that I could save you from death, but the Evilness was right.” She lunged forward at him, arms out so as to push him over the open side. “You must die!”

Jules reacted suddenly, moving out of the way as D’Anjou continued forward, falling…falling…a slight tug at him made him reel backwards from the space, but quickly it was gone.

Jules smiled slightly, then sat down hard, not noticing how tired he was. Whatever had happened, took a lot of mental strain. I’ll lie down, Jules thought, finding himself falling when footsteps came from nearby, and a voice could almost be heard, but darkness took him before he could fully understand it.

*

Rebecca walked slowly down the way, her gun out. She was about to turn a corner when another person walked into her. Both jumped away, and Rebecca was relieved to see it was only Passepartout.

“Passepartout, what are you doing here?”

“I be following my path, Miss Rebecca, and come up to yours. I am wondering what this be meaning to our fighter partner.”

“Perhaps the same person, I’m not sure.” Rebecca looked down the hallway. “We’ll have to go forward and see what we can see.”

The two walked forward, hoping slightly that they wouldn’t have to face something too evil.

**