Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) © Yana Toboso. Hagane no Renkinjutsushi (Fullmetal Alchemist) © Hiromu Arakawa. No profit is being made from this story. This story does not necessarily reflect the author's religious views, beliefs or morals.

Rating: AV15+

Warning: May contain spoilers. Parental!Maes. Gore. Torture. Dark themes. Trauma. Psychological. Angst.

Summary: There are times when the pain is so bad, that lies are the only thing that preserve your sanity.

Story type: Fullmetal Alchemist Manga x Kuroshitsuji Manga Crossover.

Pairing: None.

AN (may contain spoilers for story and cannon): I really don't know how my brain works sometimes. My notes indicate that this snapshot was partly inspired by what Ciel says in volume 8, chapter 36, page 121; "Is there truly any human who is not arrogant? For a weak human… let alone a child, how much strength do you think they have to muster in order to arise anew from that situation? I myself was only able to recover because I happened to summon a creature like you back then… But the lone devil there in the Kelvin manor was you. And you belong to me. I am indeed arrogant, However… I am not so arrogant as to boast irresponsibly that I can save anyone."

I can kinda see where the idea came from but... well I really just wanted to write something gory, see how nasty I could get with it. Don't know how well I succeeded, but I did make my Beta feel queasy, so I guess I succeeded. Here's a little something that didn't make it into the story; the woman in the story was actually dissected by her husband. That was originally one of the reason's the wedding photograph was mentioned. This is a little different from my usual style; I've used a narrator in parts which I've never done before. I also experimented with bits and pieces of Ciel's thoughts and word associations.

Conception Date: 1/4/2013

Completion Date: 15/4/2013

The Mercy of Illusions

The first time Ciel sees a military crime scene, he is sick. As he vomits up his meagre breakfast, a clinical, critical part of his mind tells him that he should not be affected so badly. The time spent in "The Lab" should have immunized him from all this. However, he is human and this is a very human reaction, is it not? The stench of rancid blood and rotting flesh twines itself around him, but that is not what makes him feel sick. Nor is it the sight of blood splashed liberally around, pooled in bowls, internal organs carefully taken out, but still attached to a body that has had the layers of skin, fat, tissue and muscle peeled back to reveal glimmering bone.

No, not one of these causes him to vomit.

It is the knowledge, the fact that the body is still breathing that makes him sick. The warm brown eyes that are turned to him, lips that mouth words that cannot be spoken; it is after all difficult to speak if the flesh of your throat has been peeled back to reveal your vocal chords. Ciel cannot reconcile the pretty young woman in the photograph on her wedding day (smiling as she leans on the arm of her beloved, light brown hair and aura around her, her happy smile frozen on a piece of paper) with the creature (a mockery of humanity, twisted into a nightmare beyond imagining) that he sees before him.

He remembers a time before the laboratory (pain, humiliation, disgrace, pain, fear, pain, pain, painpainpain) when he had accompanied his aunt to the mental hospital where she worked. He had caught sight of a man, unkempt and covered in mud, chained up and rolling in the mud, before proceeding to slam his head into the ground, theçn cowering away from his hands gibbering in terror. He had hid behind his aunt, tugging her dress and pointing at the pitiful man.

'Why don't you just put him down, he seems to be in so much pain. That's what you had to do when the kitty was hurt right? Putting down gets rid of the hurt right?' He had innocently (callously, cruelly, ignorantly) asked. His aunt had squatted down next to him.

'Ciel, in this place, there are many people who cannot speak for themselves, so we cannot know if they are in pain or suffering. The most we can do is tend to their needs and make them as comfortable as possible. They live their own lives and we cannot judge their lives based on our quality of life.' Madam Red gestured to the idiot, who was now staring at a mocking jay in a wondrous rapture. 'We may pity him his life, but to him life is good.'

Ciel had always clung to that belief, through the laboratory and his entrance into the military. But at what point did life become "bad"? The military wasn't allowed to kill the creature, since it was evidence of illegal alchemic activity, but it was in so much pain. Ciel cursed his ability to lip read (scientists discussing the next round of injections, electrocutions, to be used on him while he sat in a sound proof room watching them through the observation window). He could almost hear her voice; "Let me die, let me die, for the love of humanity just kill me now, please I'm begging you, make it stop, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, if any of you are human you will kill me now, pleeeease."

But he couldn't and the weight of the knowledge crushed him. He was sure that none of the others were aware of what she was saying. How could they not show her mercy otherwise? His commanding officer was giving orders in a cool level voice, the soldiers scurrying around trying not to look at the monstrosity, while they gathered up documents and laboratory equipment.

Ciel is so absorbed in his own memories, he does not notice the concerned glances that his commanding officer sends him, nor does he notice his absent minded nodding of his head when he is asked if he is feeling alright. He stares in horrified shock at the body and feels waves of heat and icy chills run up and down his body.

Ciel slowly crouched down, hands covering his ears in an attempt the block out the un-sounds she was making. But her words were already in his mind and could not be silenced. So absorbed by her words was Ciel, that he was unaware of his murmurs in an attempt to drown out the unsound of her voice. Nor did he notice the silence in the air as his murmurs became audible, escalating into screams in the stillness of the room. He was aware however, when large hands gripped his own (panic, fear, no don't touch me, got to fight, got to get away, escape escape), removing them from his ears. He opened eyes in surprise as he was not aware of closing them, to see Maes looking at him in concern and an empty room. His screams died into silence.

'You can lip read Ciel?' Maes asked softly. He had seen the boy watching the body, could guess by the subtle movements of his lips and the look of growing horror and anguish on the younger's face, that Ciel knew what she was saying. Thus he was not surprised when Ciel nodded in reply.

'What is she saying?' Maes continued calmly. He himself was shaken by this case, but he could not show this to the younger, not when he was depending on Maes to be calm.

'She wants to die. She's in so much pain. She keeps begging me to kill her.' Ciel whispered, his eyes slowly drawn inexorably to the soundless lips. Maes shook him by the arms, drawing Ciel's attention back to himself.

'Is there something you want to do for her?' he asked gently. Ciel nodded.

'But won't that interfere with any evidence?' Ciel asked. Maes smiled gently.

'So long as there are no permanent or physical effects, it should be fine.'

Reassured, Ciel took out a stick of chalk and started drawing out one of his basic arrays, while Maes watched in interest, before signalling that the rest of the team could filter back in quietly. Maes had never seen Ciel draw a transmutation. Usually he just touched his palms together. He guessed Ciel just didn't have the clarity of mind to do it that way. This had probably really shaken him up. Satisfied with the array, Ciel studied it a moment before activating it in a flash of silvery white light.

When Maes eyes had stopped watering and were able to focus again, his eyes widened in surprise. A silvery glow gently surrounded Ciel and the creature, which had stopped trying to speak. Maes had seen Ciel perform his alchemy once or twice before, but never had he seen this glow before. He took in the scene of his youngest subordinate sitting on the ground with his eyes closed, heedless of the half dried blood under and around him, working his alchemy on the deformed human. Satisfied that what was going on was safe and wouldn't compromise the evidence, he turned back to continue giving orders in a soft tone.

In the haze of silvery light, Ciel created the illusion of happier times. Sifting through the memories in her unprotected mind, he picked out elements from happy times (Sebastian's barking, mother's long skirts, father's smoky minty smell, Elizabeth's laughter) in her life. Restoring the young woman's body in his mind, he made her believe herself to be whole once more.

Warm brown eyes opened to a wide blue sky a few stray clouds meandering across it. The gentle breeze filled the young woman's nose with the smell of horses and hay. Sitting up, the young woman had no idea where she was, or why she felt so content and at peace. Nor did she know who the little boy with the slate hair and blue eyes was, although he did look familiar to her.

Ciel might not be able to change the reality of the young woman's situation, but he could give her a reprieve from the suffering. He could shelter her (help me, what are you doing, why, save me, hide me) in the world of dreams. When the time came, he would make her passing peaceful.

He was human after all.