Note: Well, Troublesome_monkey_dono signing in! Chapter two is on the way, so let's get this sucker started. And, I apologize in advance more making some of you readers cry. The last time I delved into sad events, I've gotten so many reviews saying I've made them cry it was almost worrisome. So I apologize in advance and I hope I don't sound arrogant in believing I can make people cry. I don't mean that either. Anyway, read on readers and thank you for continuing this fanfic.

CONTRITION

Chapter Two: Break

Ciel couldn't breathe. No matter how much air he sucked in, it was as if his lungs refused to expand any further. So he breathed, short shallow respirations, as his mind recounts to him all he has done wrong. It is a sin to breathe, he says to himself; it is a sin to inhale the air into his body when Lizzy cannot. He cannot take in long, deep breaths as he watches poor, sweet Lizzy lay in bed quietly, chest barely rising. Is it rising? Is it moving? Is Lizzy even breathing? He stares, daring not to blink, until he recognizes the familiar pattern of movement on Lizzy's chest. It's small, unnoticeable at first, but it is there. She's breathing. And he can't, his mind screams, he can't take all the air for his selfish body. She needs it. She needs to keep breathing that delicious air. She needs to. She has to.

He's despondent now as he sits beside her lifeless form. There's been an accident they say. He could barely wrap his mind around the details the Marchioness had explained to him. He arrived there in record time, drenched in rain water and mud, panting like a dog as he climbed the steps towards Lizzy's room. His aunt took him aside before he entered and explained it to him carefully. There's been a carriage accident. Another carriage collided with Lizzy's carraige. It was probably due to the rain and mud, they say. The passengers of the colliding carriage had died upon impact. Lizzy was the only one who survived. She's lucky. She's very lucky.

But Lizzy doesn't look lucky to Ciel. As he sat on his velvet chair beside her, he peered down at a lifeless woman, bruised, bleeding, and pale. She's so pale, it scares him. Some areas of her skin looks bludgeoned, as though she had been beaten blue and purple. The skin is raw and swollen, tethered as though it was stretched far too much. She's covered in bandages and he was sure she has more beneath her simple white dress robe. He couldn't bear to look upon her battered face. Lizzy, whose porcelain face was adored by many, was scarred. One half of her face remained untouched, unmarred and lifeless. The other was a mess of cuts and swollen bruises, with makeshift bandages wrapped firmly around her forehead to staunch the bleeding. The blood was what scared Ciel the most. It was so red, so fresh, so much. Too much.

There's too much happening that Ciel isn't sure he can handle it. He feels inadequate as he stares down at her, feeling selfish he was unharmed and knowing he couldn't do a thing to help her. This can't be his Lizzy. She can't be the one lying her deathbed. Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't be any other bloody carriage? There's thousands of carriages in London! Why her? Why is it always her!? He feels anger for this whole situation. He feels angry at himself for so many things. He let her run away from him. He made her upset enough to run away from him, into that damn carriage that would do nothing but harm her pretty little soul. He was the reason she cried. He had the audacity to hit her, to smack her around as if she was nothing. He allowed her to believe that she wasn't loved. It was him. He was at fault. It was his fault. He did it.

"I...Liz...," her name died in his throat before he could utter them. His throat feels dry and itchy, as though he drank acid. It was as if a cruel vice grip had taken his throat and squeezed it shut. The hopeless feeling he's been trying to diminish for the better half of the hour finally takes hold of his form and he breaks down into bitter tears. He feels undeserving to even all her by her pet name anymore. Because look at what he's done to his sweet Lizzy. She's broken.

And he feels selfish to wish that she were awake to embrace him as he grieved. He had always found comfort in her warm arms and this time, she wasn't there to embrace him. So, he takes hold of her small, pale, inert hand and presses it against his feverish cheek. "Elizabeth...," he whimpers out slowly, "I'm s-sorry. I...god...I'm so sorry. Please Elizabeth...please." And feels himself break even more at her silence as he buries his face into her palm.

She's so cold. Her hand is so cold, he realizes. Lizzy was never cold. She always had very warm hands. She had warm, comforting, hands that would always brush the hair away from his face. Slowly, he placed a tentative kiss on her fingers as he sobbed quietly. The pale digits were cold against his lips, so much so that he took hold of her precious hand and began to rub them warm. Because cold was never a good sign. Cold meant lack of blood, of circulation, of life. Cold meant Lizzy was straying further and further away from him.

"No!" he found himself crying out as he gripped her hand against him. She would never stray away again. Never. He wouldn't let it happen. He couldn't let it happen. Not again. Never again.

Sebastian finds him curled against Lizzy an hour later. He's shivering as he presses himself against her. He's given up trying to warm her with just his hands. He's piled five blankets atop her body in a poor attempt to insulate the heat. In desperation he's even torn apart the book of stories he's gifted her on her fourteenth birthday as fast kindling for a fire. It's alright. He argued to himself because he would simply buy her a better one when she's better. He would buy her a library if she wished. Yet, he found that she simply was not warm enough. So, he strips himself of his wet clothes, borrows an old pair of Edward's night clothes, and presses himself against her as best he can without hurting her. He holds her gently, afraid she would shatter in his grasp, and stares unblinking at her rising and sinking of her chest. He sincerely, desperately hopes the body heat would be enough to keep her warm. That he would be helpful enough to keep her warm.

All the while, he bites his bottom lip as he buries his face into the crook of her neck. He's too afraid to doze off, to even move. If Lizzy were conscious she would surely be crying in pain. He might be hurting her without knowing it. And it kills him to think that he's doing more damage than good. But he feels comforted to be close to her, to be of some help to her. He feels comfort in feeling the dips of her breathing and hearing the small sighs the escape her lips. It means she's alive. She's here. She's with him. And he could not derive anymore comfort than he could from the mere fact that he managed to keep her from straying too far away.

He doesn't hear Sebastian come in, as he stares forlornly at her slumbering face. He earnestly believes she'll wake up soon and when she does, he'll be there. He'll beg for her forgiveness. He'll tell her he loves her. He'll call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And they'll set rules for each other. And they'll be happy. And -

"Young master," Sebastian finally says. He watches Ciel with an utterly amused and impish look, as though he's beginning to see something absolutely beautiful. Ciel merely throws him another dirty look and snuggles closer to Lizzy, pulling the covers further up to cover her shoulders thoroughly. "May I suggest you rest for a few hours? Paula would certainly not mind watching Lady Elizabeth while you-"

"No!" Ciel cries sharply as he molds himself against Lizzy's slumbering form. Slowly, Lizzy's head lolls to the side as he presses his face closer to her neck. "No! I'll stay with Lizzy! I need to be here! I need to stay here!"

"Young Master..."

"I'll take care of Lizzy!" Ciel resolves through gritted teeth. He tries his best to hold back the flood of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes and he grits out, "I won't leave. Not again. Just let me be, Sebastian...let me be." Slowly he shuts his eyes and presses a small kiss against the crook of Lizzy's exposed neck. Shaking his head, Sebastian merely sighs as he watches the pitiful form of his master cling harder against the broken girl. With another impish look, he turned and walked away.

He was sure Ciel would spend the evening watching Lizzy; Rejoicing every breath, reliving every fear, and clinging harder than he ever did before.

"Ciel. Wake up." Ciel jerked awake, startled and too confused as he gingerly wraps himself closer to Lizzy's slumbering form. He's disoriented now as he takes his surroundings, dazed eyes wandering across the lighted room in pure dismay. It's too light. Why was there so much sunlight? He catches eye of the Marchioness, standing over him like a looming shadow. Blinking, he watches as his aunt's stern expression soften, only for a moment, as she gently places her hand on his shoulder. "You need to get up Ciel. The doctor is here to see Lizzy."

And she helps him sit up, practically heaving up upright as gently as possible. Confused as he was, he merely blinks and stares at her. What was happening here? Why is this happening? How is the Marchioness even here? He couldn't remember a time when the Marchioness was ever this gentle with anything. It was as though she was handling the Queen's jewels in her palm, cradling it so frightfully gentle it was hardly the touch of the woman he came to call his fiancée's mother. "Come now Ciel, stretch up." Mutely, he follows her orders as he gained some bearing and heaved himself into a standing position.

As though caring for a toddler, she placed both hands on his shoulders and guided him slowly to the door. "While the doctor examines Lizzy, you should freshen up in the guest bed-" She was cut short but the sudden jerk Ciel made as he stopped short from where he stood. Finally, with sluggish body moving enough blood into his bewildered mind, he realized the implications of her sudden intrusion. So, with clarity grasped, the adrenaline spiked his senses enough for him to start feeling the frays of panic seep into his being. "No!" he cried out, hoarse and cracked. "I...no...Elizabeth...I must stay and -"

Swiftly he turned his heel and made a bee line for Lizzy's bed, the sanctum where he lay for a day now in solitude. This was his place. He wouldn't wander away unless death itself grasped him on his ankles. However, the Marchioness quickly grasped him on the arm and turned him around before he could making landing. The stern expression that she was well known for was plastered on her face, steel eyes scrutinizing him for every inch he was worth. And Ciel felt himself shrink.

He could barely meet her gaze with his own, only managing to utter out gasps of small air as he whimpered out, "L-let me stay please. I need...Elizabeth...she needs to...I-I...please." If his mind were clear, he would have kicked himself for ever speaking so meekly. Ciel Phantomphive was not one to openly show weakness, especially to a woman who ordered perfection just by her mere presence. In a way, he and his aunt were very much alike in their own crude little way. The two were sticklers for discipline, for command, for perfection. Their work ethic was followed strictly and the two have always respected each other for that. It was for that reason, it was shameful enough to act so incredibly, stupendously broken. For acting broken was a weakness neither could afford.

And it was shameful still, to act so incredibly lost in the presence of Lizzy's own mother. While his relationship with Lizzy has been a confusing bundle of emotions, he knew it would never compare to the love of a mother for their child. Nothing could ever compare. So, he cast his gaze downwards, even avoiding the swoosh of the Marchioness's dress close to his feet. He couldn't bring himself to look closer for fear of seeing that look of betrayal and hatred flash through the Marchioness's face. This whole mess was his fault. It was his duty to protect Elizabeth. He promised his aunt that he would. He promised that he had the strength, the courage, the love to protect her daughter. And he didn't. It was his fault. And everyone knew that. Everyone knew that he -

"Ciel Phantomhive, take a bath at once. I will not allow you disgrace your father, my brother, with your filthy appearance. Goodness child!" she exclaimed as she brushed away his bangs, "These wretched things need to be tamed!" Unconsciously perhaps, Ciel sighed as he closed his eyes, relishing the soft touch of the Marchioness's nimble fingers. Her fingers were more calloused than Lizzy was, from years of work as both a wife and a fighter perhaps, but it was indescribably the same as Lizzy's touch. If he could just close his eyes, he could almost convince himself that it was her. And as pathetic as it might be, he was desperate enough to believe in anything; Even if it was a fleeting touch.

When he opened his eyes, the Marchioness was simply staring back at him, hand on his head like his father had done many years ago. Francis Midford was almost tempted to draw the boy into to a long hug, if it were to help that helpless look that had taken form on her nephew's face. She had meant every word she said when she mentioned his extremely filthy degrading look, but she knew that a simple fix in appearance would simply mask the look of nakedness he put up. So, as she gently patted his head, she sighed and said, "Ciel, Lizzy will make a smooth recovery. Do not forsake her own strength simply because of the appearance she shows. She is a strong woman Ciel. I made sure of it."

And finally, he cracked open his eyes, red and swollen before pitifully sniveling. He couldn't help it. Every sense of control he had slipped through his fingers during the night. It was in the darkness where he found himself suddenly lurching forward into a dark, lonely, miserable abyss of hate, anger, and anguish that it left him sobbing against Elizabeth for support. It had been years when he felt this repressed. He was sure he buried those feelings long ago, reassuring himself that finally, he had an ally that could fight away all of his demons. But Sebastian cannot fight away the clutches of the darkness himself. He was an entity that even a demon could not contain. He was an entity that was merely a subservient spectator, coming in the aid of dark creatures only when he feels like. And this time, he had lingered with Ciel and Lizzy for so long, Ciel no longer had to strength to fight back.

"I'm...I'm sorry. It was m-my fault that Elizabeth...," he managed to claw out from his irritated throat. Clearing it briefly, he forced himself to look up at Francis who merely stared at him with an unreadable expression. It was neither friendly nor malicious. But it was the face that Ciel feared most of all. He would rather that she blame him, that she forsake his existence and scorn him. He would take it all, allow it to sink and accept it. But this, this silence was harder. Silence meant so many many things. And for Ciel, silence was one of his worst enemies. "If only I could have stopped her," he finally said, "If we didn't fight...Elizabeth w-would be..."

"Do not bother yourself with problems you could not have controlled," the Marchioness finally said. It was stiff and commanding, but had the air of care and gentleness that surprised Ciel. There was no tone of betrayal or hatred in her voice, which indicated she found Ciel remotely the cause of her daughter's suffering. And it bothered Ciel more than he cared to tell her. He wanted nothing more but to be punished for his crimes. Punishment was what he deserved.

"But I-"

"Excuse me," an old croaky voice and interrupted their exchange. They turned to find a fatherly looking old man, dressed impeccably with a black bag is hand. The doctor made a small bow in introduction, eyes crinkling into a smile as he greeted them with a warm grin, "Terribly sorry to interrupt, but it would be best if I promptly examine the girl." He indicated to the slumbering Lizzy, pale and bruised as ever.

And everything else fell through for Ciel, once his attention had been directed back to his fiancee. As Francis's hands slipped away to welcome the doctor, he gingerly made his way back to the chair next to her and sat there despondently. His mind buzzed with questions, weary eyes gazing at the doctor in utter desperation. He sincerely hoped that the doctor would simply give them medicine and assure than that Lizzy was fine. That she would recover and be her bubbly happy, adorable self in no time. So he bit his lip nervously, tucking his feet underneath him and leaned closer as he watched the doctor work.

He could tell that the doctor had a critical eye, light sapphire eyes working its way down the body for a physical assessment. He touched here and there, looking at wounds and stitches, bruises and cuts, occasionally muttering to himself as he went on. And finally he stood up straight, placing the blankets back to their original position. Before he could even begin to talk, Ciel had pounced upon him with questions. "Is she alright? Is she safe? When will she wake up? When will she recover? Will she -"

He stopped short when Francis's hand placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The doctor took this as a sign to start talking, so he did as he rummaged for paper to write on. "First, these bandages need to be changed regularly. We cannot afford to risk an infection. Superficially, most of her wounds are alright. They will fade with time. Take care they are not strained for the cuts may reopen. The impact to her chest may make it hard for her to breathe so keep her airway open." Briefly he went on about the importance of positioning her. Ciel had hung on to every word, asking brief questions for clarification and even more just to calm his own nerves.

It was until he touched upon the head injury did the doctor suddenly withdraw slightly as he assessed the facts. "The trauma on her head is the most worrisome fact," the doctor went on to say. And for the life of him, Ciel couldn't help but feel the sudden fear that swallowed him whole. There is a certain stigma about doctors. People cannot help but fear and respect them for their craft. And if a doctor would carefully choose the words "worrisome" and "head trauma" there was certainly a great deal of agonize about. And as he dwells further and further into those words, he feels the panic double in his heart. It spikes more and more, until he feels the palpitations of his chest. So he closes his eyes to gain his bearings. It simply isn't the time to feel the stirrings of panic now when there were more pressing issues to discuss. But as his eyes welcome him to the darkness, he could not help but feel hyperaware of his body state. The palpitations of his heart is louder, pressing faster and faster against his ribs until he realizes that he's drawing raggedy breaths. The short respirations turn into wheezes and he notices in alarm that his cold clammy fingers are frozen in time, curled so disgustingly he can't seem to unfurl them at all. What was happening to him?!

"Ciel?!" he hears the Marchioness exclaim, "Ciel!?" Her voice is so far away and he can't concentrate enough to listen to her rambling. Blinking, his eyes are wide and his stare directs itself to the sleeping girl across from him. And as though is vision wills it, he suddenly sees the sharp intake of breath she takes before she slowly releases it out. And he waits for her to take another. He keeps on waiting, longer still and he realizes with a jolt of adrenaline that she does not. And he screams, ripping himself away from the chair so quickly that he feels the chair slap itself backwards in his hurry.

"Breathe!" he exclaims, "Breathe!' His vision tunnels as he leans over, pushing the blankets away with such haste that it fall in a heap against the doctor's feet. He places both shaking hands on her shoulders and practically shakes her where she lays pleading her to take in air. He's tries his best to recall what to do in this situation only to realize he had no clue. How do you help someone that stops breathing? What do you do!? What!? What!? What!? The bout of hopelessness he feels makes him shake her even harder. Perhaps he hopes the movement will jolt her, allowing her to take in air again.

"Ciel stop it! You're hurting her!" He's not even sure who pulls him away. He only feels the flurry of hands push him back, further away from Lizzy. Disoriented, he suddenly hears the screaming, only to realize that it is his own. It's rough and broken, until he doubles over in sudden realization that he can't breathe either. He feels his body cough and hack, wheezing and whining until he sees the darkness slowly eat away his vision. Finally, it spirals away and he drops to the ground lungs burning. Gasping, he curls into a small ball, ragged pants getting louder and louder still. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And he stops, hacking has hard as he can, before he realizes with a shock that he can't take in air anymore. He's drowning.

"Ciel!"

He feels the soft touch of his aunt's hands support his head and he could not help but crack a smile as his eyes close. Finally, he might have repented for his actions.

Ciel wakes a day later, beaten and groggy. For a long moment, he forgets. He forgets about Lizzy, he forgets about his despair, and he forgets about everything. As he lies there, he idly wonders what the agenda today is and when will Sebastian wake him for a cup of Earl Grey. He is up for a cup of jasmine today though. Slowly, he opens his eyes and the sudden confusion takes him. Staring up at the ceiling, he wonders idly why it was painted a sky blue. It was the sort of blue Lizzy would wear on a dress. In fact, it was the sort of blue she wore recently.

The sudden realization comes to him later and he bolts out of bed feeling foolish and distraught. He feels stupid and sluggish all of a sudden. Clumsily, he stumbled on the white sheets as he struggled to get up, only to realize that he hadn't left Lizzy's room at all. Swiftly, he claimed the space on her side, critical eyes watching her as she breathed with ease. Slowly, he released the covers he didn't knew he even held and breathed out a sigh of relief. It's alright. She's okay. She's breathing. She's breathing. She's breathing.

The mantra was repeated over and over again in his head until he found himself muttering it under his breath. Decidedly ignoring the rising heartbeat and perspiration, he leaned back on his knees in silent prayer. It wasn't as if he was praying to anything, having forsaken God many years ago, but he thanked whatever divine entity had allowed Lizzy to live on. Still in a kneeling position, he slowly placed his forehead into his arms and tried to regain his breathing. He wasn't sure why, but he neither felt refreshed nor calm despite the amount of sleep and good news he received. He still felt so utterly starved, as though he was still drowning.

"Oh, Earl Phantomhive! You're awake!" Paula's light cheery voice cut through his melancholy for a brief moment. He raised his head to find her pushing a cart into the room. "I've bought your meal. Sebastian insisted he cook since he knew how to take your tea and food. " She uncovered the steaming food, impeccable and delicious as always. With a small grin, she said, "Sebastian should be up shortly. He's off doing an errand for the Marchioness! And I'm here to feed Lady Elizabeth you see! So, you might as well eat as I-"

Curiously, Ciel stood up to see what Paula would do. An irrational part of him refused to leave the room in fear that Paula would inexplicitly murder Lizzy outright simply by smothering her with a pillow. He knew it was irrational as Paula loved Lizzy as her own litter sister and had many times thrown herself backwards and forwards to protect and satisfy any of her whimsical demands. Still, the fear that had taken his heart had not left and Ciel was more than content sitting on the adjacent bed nursing a cup of tea. He briefly kept note of the spare bed that somehow manifested itself in his brief absence and he gathered they must have pitied him enough to allow him to stay close to Lizzy by placing a bed close to hers. All he could do now is appreciate their gesture.

Silently, he watched as Paula carefully placed Lizzy in a sitting position, with her upper body leaning against the headboard of the bed in a forty five degree slant. Paula fluffed the pillows gently and brushed Lizzy's hair back. She pulled the cart closer to her and began to feed the girl warm broth, slowly dripping inside her partially opened mouth. It was time consuming and carefully done, to the point it was almost maddening. Lizzy certainly was able to swallow enough, but her body would often gag and choke the fluid out. It would lead to Paula dribbling down liquid in smaller amounts to avoid any more aspiration. However, after perhaps an hour or so, Ciel noticed with dismay that the broth was only finished half way. It was even more troubling to note that the bowl was small, hardly three gulps of soup for him alone.

He only moved to eat once Paula had finally finished feeding the poor girl. It was then when he noticed the worry lines that were showing on Paula's face as she gently wiped away any excess fluid. Catching his eye, Paula had started to talk out of nervousness and frustration. "Hopefully Lady Elizabeth would wake soon. It's unhealthy to just feed her broth and water all day. It's not enough to sustain a growing girl like her! The doctor gave us supplements that would give her vitamins and minerals she may need, but - oh! It's not enough!" she cried out. She allowed Lizzy to stay in that position for a few minutes as she cleared everything away. "Oh! Sir, you haven't eaten! I'm terribly sorry! I'll serve your food right away. Should I cut your toast? Butter your bread?"

"It's alright Paula," Ciel whispered as he watched Lizzy's serene face. The swelling was going down, he was sure. The bruises had settled into a hue of blue and violet, but he was sure that would fade eventually. The bleeding had been stopped and he noted that she needed to change the bandages soon.

He resolved to do it himself when Paula added, "While you eat, I shall give Lady Elizabeth a sponge bath and change her bandages and clothes. So sir, if you don't mind..." she trailed off almost afraid to finish the sentence. She wasn't quite sure how Ciel would react, being asked to leave the room. He hasn't left the room in days and even the Marchioness thought it was best for his own sake that he stay close to Lizzy. Sebastian was ordered to go forth and carry some personal items Ciel may need while he stayed and the bed was promptly placed beside Lizzy's own bed. It was a compromise that was so shocking that Edward had fought tooth and nail against it. However, his input was merely discarded once the Marchioness had talked to her husband who had promptly agreed to allow the set up.

Paul now watched as Ciel had suddenly withdrawn, silent and moody with weathered eyes watching her closely. She felt probed, as though Ciel was expecting the worst to happen from her. And while he could understand his concern, she certainly felt that she was more than capable of caring for Lizzy in her time of need. After all, she was the one who always cared for Lizzy as a child. So she stayed in her place, staring back and waiting for his response. For once, Ciel had a level enough head to consider and think.

And finally, with a small sigh as he finished his cup of tea, Ciel withdrew and said, "I'll take my own bath in the bathroom then. Do you mind Paula?" He indicated to the open door near the corner that led to Lizzy's own private bathroom. Paul immediately jumped at the chance and nodded quickly.

"Of course Lord Phantomhive! Do you want me to draw your bath sir? It should just take a moment, I'll just -"

"No need Paula," the smooth voice behind her answered. She turned to find Sebastian, with two buckets of steaming water at hand. "I bought enough water for Lady Elizabeth and the Young Master. For now, young master follow me." He beckoned Ciel over to the bathroom, shooing him inside as he briefly acquainted Ciel with the set up. Ciel's necessities were neatly placed in a corner and Sebastian went to hang his prepared garments. Ciel barely listened, choosing instead to take in Lizzy's bathroom. It was a medium sized room, full of varnished wood and painted with pastel colors. All in all, it gave of an elegant yet welcoming aura, which Ciel could learn to appreciate. It was Lizzy's space after all. Briefly, he could close his eyes and just sniff in the perfume that seemed to have seeped into the furniture. It smelled distinctly of Lizzy, a mixture of honeysuckle and vanilla. Yet it lacked an aspect of her that Ciel couldn't help but miss.

"Young master," Sebastian called carefully. Critically, he watched the disheveled teen take everything in as though he were visiting an ancient monument. Biting back an amused smirk, he carefully led the boy through the motions. He wondered briefly whether he might have to actually help the boy take a bath, a task he had not done in years. However, as Ciel lingered more and more among Elizabeth's belongings, briefly caressing linens and miscellaneous objects, he could only sigh as he pulled the lad forward. If Ciel were in the correct state of mind, he would have flushed at the foolishness he was displaying now. "Young master, strip down please."

"What?"

Sebastian sighed. This is a task worthy of an audience indeed.

Ciel went through mindless motions for the rest of the day until the next. In that time, Paula and he worked in tandem, doing their best to heal their precious lady. It was almost clockwork really, the waking, the breakfast, the bath, the bandaging, the everything in between. He didn't even bother with frivolities anymore as he eased Lizzy into a side position. It was recommended that she be turned every two hours to avoid pressure ulcers. However, due to her injuries, the process was painfully slow. Still, Ciel had done it by himself so many times it was almost insulting to let anyone else do it. He learned to trust Paula enough, but he always kept a keen eye on her movements. Because people make mistakes, people are lazy, people aren't perfect.

He spent the rest of his days waiting, staring listless for hours it would seem. He wasn't quite sure how he managed to just watch and wait, but he accomplished the task with ease it was surprising. And in that time, he learned to live with the constant worry that brushed through his system like clockwork. It would torment him worst at night when he's alone with the poor girl. It was at night when his worst fears would manifest it would seem. It was at night when he realizes that Lizzy's breathing would be more labored because of the chill. It was at night when he would gain such rapt attention that every miniscule breathe, sigh, and muscle twitch would be recorded and over analyzed. It would bounce to and fro in his mind until he would turn increasingly more paranoid.

That's what the rest of the members would call him now; Paranoid. In the dead of night, Edward would often visit before he would retire to bed. Few insulting statements would be thrown his way, all of which Ciel would merely accept in silence, before Edward would sit across from him in another chair and recount his day. He said that it was a tradition for Lizzy and he to exchange their daily stories, ever since they were children. "It keeps her close," Edward said smiling gently at his little sister. After an hour, he would leave bidding farewell. He would always cast a fleeting glance back at him, an unreadable face always criticizing and analyzing as he leaves. Ciel isn't sure whether or not it is done out of distain or pity. Finally, he came to the conclusion that it is both.

In the end, it matters very little to him. All that matters now is Lizzy. Once she wakes, he would get the chance to make things right once more. Once she wakes, they shall talk. And he would say he's sorry, and call himself an idiot, a selfish brute, an unworthy cretin undeserving of her. And he'll gather her into his arms and implore her to never stray again. And he will marry her come spring, on her birthday. And they'll be happy. She'll be beautiful, he will be complete.

He runs through his list every hour, adding and retouching, scrutinize and directing, until he's satisfied of his plan for the time being. He's almost sure he's got it down to a science, mulling things over until he can recount sentences as though he's rehearsed for a play. He was sure his tongue can twist and turn eloquent words he's recounted and reviewed, confident he knew what to do. He was sure of his actions. Now, all he needed was for her to awaken.

So, he presses his cheek against her pale, cold hand as he watches her sleep. "Wake up soon Elizabeth. Please..."

Note: Well, this will be a long author's note. Please bear with me.

First, I would like to thank all of your wonderful readers for reviewing, following, and even reading my little fanfic. Thank you very much, from the bottom of my heart. For the wonderful reader, stardere, thank you for the long and refreshing review. I know what you mean when you said fics tend to be rushed, but I have to say I tend to rush as well, especially in this chapter (even if it is six thousand plus words). Anyway, I intend for this to be about four or five chapters, depending on the ending I want. I'm not sure as of yet. We shall see, I suppose.

Second, I have to admit. I struggled so much with this chapter. I didn't know how to adequately address any of the current emotions that Ciel was having because I thankfully did not experience the type of loss that he has. I mean, I have lost loved ones but not one that I was intimately, romantically involved with, you know what I mean? So, I had to base my experience from other sources.

Perhaps the irony of this was, most of the way Ciel reacted was how I observed my grandmother reacting when my grandfather died in a motorcycle accident. That struggle was what I tried to remember and convey, but as you guys may have noticed, I could not get into Ciel's head the way I did the first chapter. It was impossible for me. The other experiences I had and did manage to incorporate were ones like taking care of patients, panic/anxiety attacks, depression, etc.

So, in short, yes. It was an absolute struggle to try to convey that. And I realize, the next oncoming chapters will be so much harder. So much. Well we shall see what happens. Now then, once again, thank you very much for reading! R & R please! I would love to hear your input on this chapter as this is the hardest chapter I had to write as of yet.

And Happy New Years! I hope this new year shall bless all of you with wonders.
Troublesome_Monkey_dono signing out!