Hi all, I realized I never introduced myself. I'm Eva, devoted Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji) fangirl and amateur authoress. That's all you really need to know without going to my profile, right? XD Thanks for all the positive feedback. Even if I don't respond, I do read it and it gives me the warm fuzzies. About this story: apparently it turned into an ongoing fic? I honestly don't know, but my friend insists on me giving her more of it (I tried to write "part two of two" on the top of this and she scratched out the second two and wrote the infinity symbol instead). So, I guess I'll be writing more. Um, ok. XD If you have any ideas for me, whether it's what to do in later chapters of this fic, or a request for another fic (I write in third person as well as second, for the record), I would be happy to hear them! Thanks, and hope you enjoy. -Eva
Oh! And this was beta'd by the lovely and talented theslyknave. Look her up- she's just put in an official beta reader form! Much love.
oOo
You are Finnian, and you have a tendency to not sleep well. This is why you are awake at 3 in the morning, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince yourself that panicking would not be the best of ideas. Slowly you realize you're free, you're still in the manor, and you're not being sent back. At least, you aren't yet. You sit up carefully, your eyes taking in every feature of the room. There's Bard in the bed in the middle, Tanaka on the one against the wall, and you are in the bed closest to the door and window. You asked for it, because you like having options, in case you need to escape on short notice.
In case things go bad.
Looking out the window, you pull your knees up to your chest, face thoughtful. You wish you had some actual pajamas- you're still in the dreadful hospital robe, though you're trying your best to hide it beneath Mister Sebastian's coat, which he graciously let you keep. Mister Sebastian had given you his sincere apology, but said that there weren't clothes ready for you yet. You had nodded, understanding.
After almost an hour of gazing at the moon, you realize you are still very tired. Sleepless nights you spent pressed into the corner where your unadorned mattress met the wall, fearful of a nighttime attack by your captors, the scientists, were taking their toll on you. You want to stay up; you're still scared. But your body is screaming for sleep. You suppose a little sleep wouldn't hurt, and you sink down into the clean cotton sheets, which you bet were changed recently, which is a luxury you're not used to.
The next time you wake up, no one is in the room with you, and you open your mouth to scream your terror, sure that it meant it was a trap. But before you can utter a sound, a gloved hand is over your mouth.
Calm down, Finnian. It's ten o' clock, and the young master is at work. I decided to let you sleep late. I think I'm right in presuming you're dreadfully lacking in sleep time? You can't answer him; you're still quaking, though your heart is beginning to slow to a more regular pace. Bard and Tanaka are at their positions already. Soon you'll have to wake up with them, at six in the morning. You nod, and he slowly takes his hand away from your mouth. Better? He smiles, and you nod again, not trusting your words.
He holds out a box you didn't realize he had. These are for you. You open it, gingerly, and inside are a pair of orange plaid shorts and a cream colored shirt.
For me?
Of course. A servant of Phantomhive must always look their best. You pick up the shirt, which is on top, and examine it. Comfortable cream cotton, like the comfortable white sheets you're still sitting on. These are also yours. He places by your feet garden boots, and on your lap, a large straw sunhat.
Why a hat? It would look silly, since you have no hair to go under it.
Well, you don't have to wear it on top of your head.
What do you mean? You wish he'd just lay things out for you the first time. The more you have to ask, the stupider you feel.
Your tattoo. You dislike it, do you not?
I hate it. I hate it and I wish I didn't have it. The words spring out before you can think.
Mister Sebastian takes the hat and places it on your head. He kneels in front of you and ties it loosely under your chin, and then pushes it back. It falls off your head and sits on the back of your neck, held perfectly in place by the knot he's made.
Oh! You go to touch your tattoo, but your fingers meet the resistance of the hat. Thank you, Mister Sebastian.
Think nothing of it. After all, the hat came from young master Ciel.
Master Ciel got this for me? You try to turn your head to look at it, an attempt made in vain since it's directly behind where your eyes are located.
Indeed. The young master sees to it that all his servants are cared for. He stands up with a smile. Now, I believe you've met Bard, but have yet to actually meet Tanaka or MeyRin, is that so?
Right. You notice he says 'actually meet'- does he know you were up in the early hours, worrying about your fate, fearful of the scientists even now?
Well then, I believe it's time for introductions. I will wait outside the door; come out once you've changed clothes, and we'll go to find MeyRin. You nod, and he leaves.
You reach into the box and lay out your new clothes on your bed, looking over them again. You take off Mister Sebastian's too big coat, which you slept in, the sensation of comfy-warm still an absolutely novel idea to you, and place it carefully beside your new clothes. The hospital gown you let drop, and then wriggle into your new clothes, which fit perfectly, big enough to be comfortable and small enough to fit your petite frame.
Impulsively, you grab the hospital gown and tear it, letting your rarely-existent anger get the better of you. You rip and tear and suddenly there are lines of tears on your face, and you are on your knees and there is a pile of ruined fabric in front of you, and you are covering your face with your hands and crying.
You let the tears fall from your thin face. You don't care who knows- in fact, you've rather forgotten that there's anyone who might even care about the fact that you're crying in the first place. The tears just won't stop, a strange contradiction of relief and frustration, joy and fear. All your thoughts are tumbling around in your head, running into each other, each wanting their turn in the spotlight, which is just confusing you even more.
The door opens, and in comes Mister Sebastian. You look up, then down, and reach to rub your eyes on your sleeve, but he offers you a handkerchief. You take it with a hiccup and dry your eyes.
I'm sorry. You look back to the pile of fabric scraps now sitting in front of you.
No matter. He scoops the wrecked gown into his arms. It was going to be burned anyways.
Burned? You feel a weight you never noticed lift from your chest.
Yes, burned. You wonder if he's getting impatient with you and your stupid echoes. We'll go to the incinerator first, then, and meet with the others.
Ok. You have the feeling that no one argues with Sebastian. That you always yield to whatever the head butler wills. He leaves the room and you trot after, walking fast to keep up with his long, brisk strides. You feel very short next to him, since he's over half a foot taller than you are. You clasp your hands behind your back to give them something to do. You would hum, but it would be an aimless tune, since they never played music at The Facility. So instead, you follow Mister Sebastian in silence.
The two of you reach a room in the basement with a large furnace, and you instinctively shy away from the crackling flames. Mister Sebastian does not share your apprehension, however, and walks straight up to the contraption. He tosses in the scraps, and you look away as the fire turns fantastic colors, reacting to the chemicals still clinging to the fabric.
Oh dear. I should have thought of that. With luck, it won't ruin the furnace. He looks mildly interested, and you feel like you should apologize, but you're not quite sure why. It's not like you asked to have chemicals around you, on you. You can still feel your skin crawl, tingling after injections or sprays that would resign you to your bed for weeks- just because a group of sadists in white coats were curious as to what would happen.
Ah well. He dusts his hands off and turns back to you with that politely meaningless smile. It can't be helped now. You nod hesitantly, and he walks past you and through the door. Come along, Finnian.
You tag along again, wanting to ask so many questions, but at the same time you don't want to bother him. So you follow along in a heavy silence until you reach the kitchens. You hear a crash, followed by a feminine voice.
Oh, I've messed up again! Mister Sebastian will kill me!
He can't blame you. That's Bards voice, low and laid back. Your glasses aren't in yet.
You know very well it IS my fault, and so will Mister Sebastian. Mister Sebastian looks at you and raises an eyebrow, and then pushes open the door.
I will know what is your fault? His voice is dangerously quiet, but still polite. You wonder if he's ever not polite. You peek around him, and you see a young woman with dark red hair and the most striking brown eyes you've ever seen. At her feet is a pile of broken china. Ah. He doesn't wait for Bard or the young woman to speak. I see.
I'm sorry, Mister Sebastian! The girl blushes. She looks away, seemingly unwilling to meet the butler's eyes.
No matter. But unlike when he said it earlier, his voice is frosty. It has the undercurrent that says it does matter, and that he is not pleased. MeyRin, meet the newest staff member. This is Finnian. Finnian, MeyRin.
You shyly step out from behind Mister Sebastian. Nice to meet you, MeyRin. She nods succinctly, those intense eyes looking you over. You feel very self-conscious all of a sudden, sure she's going to find something displeasing about you and that a bad assessment would send you away.
There is a slight chance you have slight abandonment or attachment issues. That, or you really really really hate the Facility. Both are entirely possible.
Finally she stops looking you over and nods again. Nice to meet you.
And where is Tanaka? Mister Sebastian asks, looking around. Bard gives a half shrug.
We're not quite sure. He was here a while ago, but then said he had something to take care of. Guess he's doing whatever that is.
I... see. Well, you'll just have to introduce him later; I have business to attend to. I presume that the two of you can take care of Finnian for now. Again without waiting for a response, Mister Sebastian is gone, leaving you standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.
You need breakfast, Finny. Bard starts looking through cabinets. He pulls out bread and jelly and hands them to you. You take them gratefully, though you've never made your own food before. He finds a knife for you to cut the bread and spread the jelly and attempts to hand it to you. You back off quickly.
Ah, please! Images flash in your mind as you stare at the blade, terrified. You know he has no intent to harm you, but you spent far too much time around scientists with scalpels to trust knives.
The three of you freeze- you embarrassed and scared, Bard confused, and MeyRin neutrally observing. Slowly Bard sets the knife down on the counter and takes a few steps back. You grab the knife and skitter back, setting the tool and your food on the counter next to you, away from them. Silently, shame burning on your young face, you start to make yourself a sandwich.
You're a bit twitchy, aren't you, Finny? MeyRin leans on a counter near Bard. You can feel their eyes on you, and you reach up to make sure your hat's still in place before you answer.
A bit. Bad memories. You take a bite of sandwich, hoping that will make them drop it. You shake your head to yourself; your first slices were too wide. Too much bread in one bite. Oh well, you suppose you'll learn eventually.
We all have our skeletons here. You look up, and Bard's eyes have pity in them. MeyRin nods, agreeing with him. If you wanna share yours, go ahead. We won't judge.
Can't, MeyRin corrects. We can't judge.
Right. We can't judge. But if you want to keep it to yourself, well, that's all right too.
Thanks. Your voice is muffled, between the last of your heavily-bready sandwich and your relief. You begin making more sandwiches, some for you and some for your coworkers. You didn't realize how starved you were until you were eating a simple meal, one that didn't overload your senses.
Don't mention it. Bard grins at MeyRin. You should get back to work before Sebastian comes back and flusters you again. MeyRin blushes and pushes his shoulder.
It's not nice to tease a lady!
I'm not, I'm teasing you. They continue to squabble good-naturedly, and you smile. Bard turns back to his cooking, and MeyRin starts cleaning up the china, and you wonder if this is what a family is like. Even though they're teasing each other, you can tell that they're friends, bonded at least in part by the contract that is working at Phantomhive manor, a bond that technically, you share, even if you had to write "Subject Number 12, Finnian" and you had to copy Mister Sebastian's writing, and you're pretty sure you accidentally wrote "Sudject Nudmer 12" instead, because you really don't have this writing thing down.
The important part is that they're friends, and you have something in common with them. So maybe soon, you hope, they'll be your friends too.
You are Finnian, and you finally have a home.
oOo
There is a part 3 partially written. I like writing as Finny. He's a sweetheart and deserves more love. XD