The time was just past eleven at night. The storm had been raging for at least a half an hour, and showed no signs of slowing anytime soon. The boom of the thunder could be heard every few minutes, always preceded with a bright flash of thunder; sometimes enough to light up a whole room.

Of course Rachel and Vincent were unperturbed by the storm outside, they had no reason to be afraid. Both the Phantomhive nobles were in a comfortable silence as they undressed; Vincent losing his cravat and jacket, then his shirt and pants to change into a nightshirt. Stopping to help Rachel unlace her corset, the elder bluenette lowered his head and pressed a chaste but affectionate kiss to the crook between her neck and her shoulder.

"You think he'll be alright Vincent? He seemed uncomfortable even as he dozed off, I'm afraid this storm is going to frighten him terribly."

Vincent pondered Rachel's question for a moment. It was true that his son more often than not found himself unable to sleep during storms like these, especially during the summer season when rain was at its peak. Keeping to this thoughts for the short moment that he finished unlacing Rachel and let her step away to change into her nightgown, Vincent sidestepped and pulled himself onto the bed, bringing the covers over his legs and adjusting them back for Rachel to lay under momentarily.

When his wife joined him in the bed, Vincent leaned over to press a reassuring kiss to her cheek, then her lips.

Ciel is a strong boy when he wants to be, but even he is not impervious to fear. He knows to come to us if he wants us."

Rachel nodded silently in agreement and settled further into the mattress. Another flash of thunder lit up the room, and Vincent laid down on his back besides Rachel, allowing his eyes to fall shut and his breathing to begin evening out.

Boom. Another thunderclap.

No more than three minutes had passed between when Rachel and Vincent had begun to let sleep take over their mind and bodies, before the door creaked as it was pushed open and the sound of small sobs and wails hit both parents ears. Once the realization of what he was hearing registered in his mind, Vincent pushed himself to a sitting position, and like a mirror image Rachel did the same. They both saw half of Ciel's body, his little fingers clutching at the door and his shoulders shaking with each unsteady breath he took. Needless to say, Ciel had been unable to sleep through the storm.

Rachel immediately gave Ciel a comforting smile and extended her arms to the little boy, calling gently for him to come over, and Ciel was quick to toddle over and wiggle up onto the bed. Rachel pulled Ciel against her chest for a moment, kissing the side of his head and humming next to his ear. Then Ciel squirmed away to lay in between his parents, and they both moved closer so he could feel them on either side. Soon enough the little boy's cries rescinded back into a steady, quiet breathing, his little chest rising and falling with each one.

A protective barrier.

To soothe and comfort.

That little cocoon of warmth.

Nevermore.

As thoughts swirled around in Ciel's mind and memories resurfaced upon Wordworth's questions, and Ciel's mumblings took a despairing turn.

"Now there's no one…"

Indeed there was, not in Ciel's eyes anyway. His father, against all odds, had returned to him, and yet Ciel had rejected that man that used to be his everything. His idol, the person he loved and looked up to the most. Who he ran to each and every time he came home from a mission and was eager to wrap his arms around his little boy.

But he didn't do it; not this time.

Vincent had done all he could to convince his skeptical son that his claims were legitimate, that he indeed was Vincent Phantomhive, former head of the household, but most importantly, his father. Vincent wanted nothing more to embrace his child again, but Ciel had resisted anything at every turn.

That warmth Ciel used to cherish so much, it was now forever out of his reach, all because of his own self exile from allowing emotions other than determination and pride to fill his chest. The warmth he so eagerly sought from either of his parents, he'd never experience again, not unless he relented and allowed himself to accept the impossible. A letter had been sent, another piece of proof of Vincent's claims, proof that Ciel deep down knew he couldn't deny was real. Come short of Ciel having burnt the letter before reading it in full, he would've read Vincent's earnest words and hopefully taken them to heart, let them mull around in his head.

"I hope to see you again, and soon. I just ask that you try to keep an open mind when we do so, I would love nothing more than to hold my son in my arms again."

"I'll be seeing you soon, and I love you. -Father"

That letter had so far gone unanswered, and in one respects it did not surprise Vincent. As warmth coursed through his own veins again, the elder Phantomhive pondered how much time he'd be allowed. His bargain was an open-ended one, one that he planned on seeing through to the best of his ability. His little boy needed to be safe, protected, loved, warm. His eye looked so cold, so empty, vacant of all the emotions that Vincent once knew him capable of.

Ciel had spent three years thus far in this social and emotional isolation, but in light of his Father's return, would his complacency with this personal exile last? Vincent knew his little boy was in there somewhere, he just hope it hadn't gotten lost in the emotional abyss that was Ciel Phantomhive.

The warmth was gone, and it was up to him to see it restored. He would never be able to properly rest in peace otherwise.