What Remains

Summary: Ceil and Sebastian have left under mysterious circumstances and now the Phantomhive manor is without an owner. However, the servants remain.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, and Drama

Rating: T

Characters: Meyrin, Finny, Tanaka and Bard

Paring(s): None

Disclaimer: Don't really want to own Kuro... so I guess it's a good thing I don't?

A/N: I'm trying to be fair with the POV, but I'm afraid I'm a little biased with Bardroy and Finny… So this is their section. Hope you guys like it, I promise Meyrin will get more screen time in the next section.

[Section 3/5]

Chapter 3- Behind the Rose Bush

The meal was out later tonight since Bardroy was solely in charge of all the preparations. It wasn't anything fancy, sliced roasted turkey and some diced vegetables on the side, and he certainly didn't want to face the prospects of setting up the main dining hall. It still felt like the young masters territory and Bardroy couldn't accept the fact that servants could use it yet. He had even managed to find some wine back in the cellar. Ceil hadn't had much of a taste for it because of his age, but past guests had enjoyed it enough. Bard didn't see the prospects of having guests in the near future so he took out a spare bottle and three glasses. He used the extra serving room, which the young Lord had never cared for, and prepared a small table. Once he was done, he looked proudly at his accomplishment.

"Done, now to find everyone else." He said confidently. He stormed out of the room to search the manor. Tanaka wasn't hard to find. He was in his usual study and promised he would be down monetarily; he was relatively surprised at Bard's entrance as though he hadn't expected him to be there at all, but the blond gave no comment. He left the old man for a few more moments in peace before leaving to find Meyrin or Finny.

He suspected the younger blond wouldn't have come back in from the grounds so he went in search of Meyrin instead. He walked around most of the house, taking his time, but he didn't see the clumsy maid anywhere. No sounds of crashes or quick apologizes were easily recognized like on any usual day. It was eerily quiet walking down the narrow hallways. His walk lead him to the servants' corridors where they each had their own small rooms for themselves. Meyrin's room was adjacent to Finny's, but he had personally never stopped by it. As he stood in front of the oak door, he felt hesitated before knocking.

"Hey, Meyrin, you in there?" His voice was loud and projected its usual baritone sound, but it wasn't demanding or threatening. However, a loud crash and scuffing of wood led way into an aggressive 'thud' of something hitting the floor. At such an aggressive sound, Bardroy flung open the unlocked door.

"Meyrin, Are you-?" Bardroy rushed into the room, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Meyrin. She was sprawled out on the floor next to an overturned chair she had presumably fallen from. Her room wasn't very large, and the small vanity she had been propped up against wasn't very tall so her decent to the floor hadn't been a very long one. However, the servant corridors all had dark polished hard wood floor; meeting face first with the ground would not be very pleasant. Her dress had folded up on itself as she lay on the floor on her side in a confused heap. Her undergarments were in full view for the room; Bard couldn't help but spare a small blush at the sight.

Meyrin groaned from the floor, causing Bard to unglue his gaze from her and move forward to help her up. He chastised himself for acting like an immature school boy with each stride.

"Meyrin, are you hurt? That looked like quite a fall." He exclaimed shortly as he grabbed her by the forearm and helped her up to her feet. She blinked up at him behind thick glasses as though she had just recognized his presense.

"O-oh, yes! I'm sorry, Bard! I-I think I dozed off for a second there… Oooohhh, I'm so klutzy." She bemoaned loudly, readjusting her dress to a more modest position. Bard nodded, looking from her dark amethyst hair and to apron. She had changed into a knee-high purple dress that he had never seen before; it matched her hair and Bard wished she'd pull off her glasses so that all three could complement each other.

That would look nice. He blinked at the train of thought and looked away again from Meyrin, trying to get such scattered thought, out of his mind. He knew analyzing the different spices from the cabinets in the pantry hadn't been a good idea. Now he was sitting around thinking about what matched- like a woman.

He did manage to catch the red puff of her cheeks that even her oversized glasses couldn't hide. He wanted to comment on it, but he knew now was not the time; besides, he wasn't one to deal with tears.

He paused as Meyrin stared at him, noticing his scrutinizing expression. Not wanting to seem rude, he put a hand behind his head and spoke as nonchalantly as possible. "Well, uhm, the reason I came to find you was to tell you that dinner was ready."

Her face remained blushed, but then turned to a light glow. "Oh! That sounds lovely at the moment. Where is it?"

"In the backroom parlor near the kitchen. Tanaka's probably already there. I haven't found Finny yet." He said this off-handly, but he was starting to worry for the other blond. It had been at least a good four hours since he'd seen him out front. If he wasn't in the house, which Bard suspected he wasn't, there was very little he could do, because Finny was far more acquainted with the grounds than he or Meyrin were; he could hide for days from them if he was sneaky about it.

Meyrin tousled her hair carefully as she adjusted her glasses, walking towards the doorway of her room. "Have you seen him come inside?" She asked, worry in her scratchy tone. Bard shook his head, walking over to the door after her. She closed it with a firm slam as they both entered the hallway together.

"Nah, I haven't I don't think he ever came in from the grounds. The front door was still opened when I checked, but he wasn't on the front steps." He turned down the dimly lit hallway, not watching Meyrin follow him, but knowing she did because of the light clacking of her heels behind him. The tapping of their feet to the floor created a short rhythm with his heavier boots and her short heels; it was the only sound that could be heard in the entire mansion. It seemed so much emptier, quieter, and stiller than Bard had ever remembered it being. He wasn't sure he liked it; on the battlefield, the quietness signaled new distress over the horizon.

"Maybe…. He'll show up later. I don't think he's dealing with the young Lord leaving very well." Meyrin proposed quietly, giving away her own melancholy, even with her subdued tone. Bard gave a short glance her way, but didn't stop his tread or the uneasy rhythm that was beginning to sound more like a cacophony of scuffling feet rather than anything purposeful.

"Yes." He replied shorty, agreeing with her.

Although, truthfully, I don't think any of us are taking it well. He thought to himself darkly, glancing once again to Meyrin and back to the empty hallways of the Great Phantomhive Manor.

Finny hadn't shown up for dinner after all. After Bardroy had set out the food, Tanaka and Meyrin had taken a seat the small table. The meal wasn't large or extravagant, but it was one of his better cooked selections. They began eating, enjoying light conversation, that felt forced in Bardroy's opinion. The entire time, the three expected Finny to smell the meal and come running from his hiding spot to join them, but, an hour and a half later, Tanaka had dismissed himself from an empty plate. It had become final; Finnian wouldn't be joining them.

Meyrin had been fretting over the gardener's whereabouts, conquering wild ideas of Finny injured or hurt somewhere, alone. But Bardroy calmed her down, saying he was just hiding in the gardens somewhere. Her worries didn't dispel, but she grudgingly took his word for it. After thanking him kindly for the meal, she left herself in an attempt to accomplish some kind of chore before dark.

Bardroy had sat at the table with his fine glass of wine and stared out the bayside window out onto the lawn of the manor. The sun gleamed off the far horizon, signaling that the end of the first of many long days was about to be over. Bard didn't move for quite some time though, taking comfort in the peaceful silence.

After he managed to down a little more of his wine, he pulled himself from the chair and cleaned the table, returning the empty dishes to the kitchen's cabinets. The pan he had cooked the turkey in and the pot of water still remained on the counter.

Ah, my least favorite part of the dinner process. He sighed to himself as he picked up the first pot he had boiled some yellow corn in earlier. Lukewarm water was all that remained in the pot, but it still had to be dumped out the side door.

Bard heaved the heavy pot into his hands, lifting with his arms and shoulders. He managed to get to the side door of the manor and propped it open as he cradled the pot precariously in one arm. He noted the dying sunlight over the backstairs well and began dumping the water onto the grass of the yard; Bard knew it probably needed it, rain had been sparse as of late. After a couple seconds of emptying the pot, Bard tilted the pot upright and was about to return inside when he heard a peculiar sound.

At first, Bard thought it was some animal scuffling around on the thick stone near the side of the house (the mice tended to enjoy that activity on hot days). However, the sound wasn't like the repetitive sound of claw mark on mortar; it had a small, irregular, and more airy tone quality, like someone trying to repress a hiccup. The noise was coming from the thick line of rose bushes the master had imported from Germany about a year ago. The flowers themselves were beautiful, and had a wondrous scent that Bardroy enjoyed when he come back around to smoke when Sebastian didn't want the ashy smell invading the manor. They had unusually thick thorns, though, something Bardroy had learned the hard way when he managed to give himself a pretty large cut while he had been trying to pick a couple to place on a center piece for the young Lord one night.

Bard smiled at the memory; Finny and Meyrin had been frantic at the sight of his blood and had run around searching for a bandage as though his bleeding hand would fall off.

Well, it was my fault for not being careful… but I wonder… He trailed off in thought as he placed the pot on the cobblestone steps and began walking up to the large row of rose bushes. His speculation of the sound was verified when he leaned down and looked under the bush to see two dark black boots against the far wall. Bardroy maneuvered himself to the end of the row of bushes and saw the bright blond head of Finny. His head was down and he had managed to work his way in between the grey stone wall of and the thorny plants in front of him without any visible injury. Bardroy would have left him there and not disturbed him, since he was kind of glad to just know the kid was still around, but he froze when he saw Finnian's body twitch slightly. A light grating sound met Bard's ears and he realized that the kid was trying to repress sobs.

Damn. Well, I can't just leave him out here…. But man, do I hate tears… Bardroy thought to himself unhelpfully. If it was anyone else, he would have just left them alone. God knows how many of his fellow comrades he had left alone to allow them to grieve in peace. It was far too many to count, and it wasn't because Bard hadn't cared; it was because he was respectful of others' privacy. But with Finny and Meyrin, a small, protective drive seemed to exist, which he found bizarre since he hadn't had that feeling with his own siblings when he still lived and had contact with his family.

He leaned in, getting to his knees and tried to fit himself in between the wall and bush like where Finnian was. "Hey, Finny. You missed dinner you know." Bard let the words go boldly, announcing his presence if it wasn't already known. He attempted to make it a jest, maybe to draw the smaller man from his shell. Bard bemoaned his fate, knowing he couldn't just leave him there, and that Finny sure as hell wasn't coming to him.

He pressed himself further into the wall getting on his hands in knees. "Alright, Fin. I can't believe you're making me do this." He said aloud, but his tone was, once again, not begrudging. He began to inch his way forward, feeling the thorns prickle at his right sleeve and the stone grate lightly on his left shoulder. Finny had, undoubtedly, had no problem making his way to the spot he had rooted himself because his shoulders and body was much slimmer than Bard's broad appearance. But, Bard just kept himself hard-pressed against the wall, attempting to stop the small rocks in the soil from jabbing him in the kneecaps.

He managed to crawl forward enough to sit directly next to Finny, who still hadn't looked up from the ball he had made out of himself. His arms remained clinging to his knees, that covered his face. Bard could see his sporadic breathing and wished he hadn't bothered; he was horrible when it emotions. But he couldn't shove this duty onto Meyrin, he had to take charge, unless he wanted another disaster like before. Abandoning a mission or a comrade was cowardly; he swore long ago on the battlefield that he would not allow himself to turn a blind eye.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Bard poked Finny lightly in the shoulder and then positioned himself as discreetly as possible next to him. He allowed their forearms to make contact, but he didn't prod Finny further.

"Hey, kid, this is a really great hiding spot. Wouldn't have thought you'd have tried to climb into the rose bushes." He said this as nonchalantly as possible, but by this point, he really was hoping for some kind of reaction from the younger man. His finger met the breast pocket of his dirtied shirt, but he shook his head irritably, realizing he didn't have any cigarettes on him.

Probably for the best. Not the greatest time to be enjoying one anyway. He thought to himself as he stared down the vibrant red and green foliage in front of him. He glared at the thorny bushes and he tried not to think about how close the pointy thorns were to his face. Bard wasn't unfamiliar to pain, but he certainly didn't go looking for it. Ending up head first in a bush full of stickers didn't sound enjoyable; he gained enough burns in the kitchen on a regular basis as it was.

Bard shook his head at the thought and stared down at Finny, who had yet to move. The young gardener was a conundrum himself. He wasn't very large and his presence wasn't tremendous either, but his superhuman strength is what defined him from an average person. Bard wasn't normal either, but it was a little bit more concealable than Finny's unearthly strength. Yet, as he was curled in a tight ball, he looked dejected and gave no sign of the strength Bard knew existed.

Poor kid… Bard thought as he felt another shudder from the contact he had on Finny's shoulder. Bard knew Finny had a tough past; they all did. Their presence here was a reprieve from their previous lives. He knew Meyrin had some handling with guns, and he himself had seen many battlefields and crafted many strategies. However, he didn't know much about Finnian's past except that he had had been experimented on before he had come here. Besides that, he had no idea about what Finny had experienced. He had no idea what was going on through his mind. He never really did. Yet, his old life didn't seem to bog him down on a regular basis. The shorter blond was most of the time the literal incarnation of cheerfulness. This openly vulnerable, exposed version of Finny was unsettling for Bard to deal with at best, but the dormant desire to assist arose quickly in him.

With a light and slightly tentative touch, Bard lifted his left hand and laid it to rest on Finnian's blond scraggly hair. "Come on, Finny. I can't tell what's wrong if you keep ignoring me." His voice was light, but still retained the worried undertone.

Finny seemed to freeze up at the contact. For a couple of seconds, Bard was left in silence, behind shadowy rose bush with a comatose Finny. However, the emptiness didn't last long, a clear turquoise eye poked out from beneath Finny's arms. It was a reluctant movement of the head, reminding Bard of a turtle peeking out of its shell to check its surrounding.

Bard offered a cheesy smile to coax the gardener's slow progress on, but the effort wasn't necessary, because soon enough Finny's eyes blinked up at him, looking at Bard as though they had never seen him in their lives. It unnerved the cook to have such a haunted gaze lofted onto him, but he didn't remove the hand upon Finny's head. Although, the cause of that might have been out of sheer stubbornness rather than determination to comfort.

"W-why?" The younger's lips trembled terribly, but Bardroy could still make the small question.

"Why what, Fin? I came back here because you've been missing for hours. I thought you might…" He paused, collecting his last words slowly. What would Finny want? "Want some company?" Bard supplied back unsteadily, edging it as more of a question to prompt Finny into talking more.

Finny shook his head slowly under Bard's hand, which he dropped now since he had his given attention. "W-Why a-are you s-still here?"

"What!" Bard barked back louder than he anticipated from shock of the mere question. Finny's tone had been so dejected, so earnest that Bard actually did believe Finny had thought he'd packed his bag and was long gone. "What are you talking about? I'm a Phantomhive servant; I can't just up and leave when I want."

Finny stared at him, and then suddenly shut his eyes and shook his head. He buried his head back into his folded arms, and Bard thought for sure he had caused Finny to curl up in on himself again until the he heard Finny's squeaky voice muffled through the material of his trousers.

"But, we're not…." Bard froze at the open pain in the words and nodded even though Finny wasn't looking. He knew they weren't servants anymore. Ciel was gone; they would have to start making some kind of plan for themselves. Bard didn't really know what he'd do, he could always find a job in the city or something, do some manual labor. He'd never wanted to return to an actual battlefield, despite his talent. Meyrin would probably return to her previous occupation, but Finny…. He had no idea what he would do, and it seemed Finny was just as confused as he was.

Bard sighed and let the back of his head rest against the hard stone as he analyzed the gutter far above their heads. "I know, but there's nothing we can really do about it, can we? Come on, Fin. It'll be fine. We're not going to just ditch ya here, if that's what you're worried about." Finny didn't move a muscle at the comment and Bard frowned, turning his head back toward the other man.

He poked him lightly in the shoulder, attempting to rile some kind of response. "If ya don't tell me what's the matter, I can't help." He prompted, but his voice was serious.

Finny fidgeted slightly and filled blue eyes met his again. By now, Finny's lack of response was becoming slightly irksome to Bard, but any miniscule feelings of irritation were squashed at the younger's expression. It was as though he were searching him and memorizing his appearance as though he were the last human being he'd ever see again; the look of the desperate and lonely. Bard wouldn't have imagined such a look could come from such eyes that were usually filled with nothing but brimming joy.

"I…." Finny trailed off uncertain and lowered his gaze before he brought it back up again a second later. "I-I just don't… I don't want to go back..." Fat tears collected at the edge of his large eyes, creeping out over his eye lashes, but they didn't fall- not yet.

Bard looked on confused. "Back where?"

Finnian looked at him and with the most frightened and haunted look Bard had ever seen anyone give, including war veterans and civilians alike. "There." It was all he had for a response, but the word indicated much more than just a simple background.

The word seemed to let loose the floodgates, and the tears Finny had tried to hold back came tumbling down his face. His lips puckered and vibrated slightly in a sad little quiver, while his red, puffy eyes continued to blink back tears that obviously had no intention of being stifled. The sight was horribly unsettling, and Bard, in a moment of empathy at sudden on slaughter of tears, did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped an arm around Finny's shoulder and pulled him into his shoulder.

"Idiot. You don't have to go back anywhere you don't want to. You're free now, and Meyrin, Tanaka, and I won't let anyone change that." It was probably the most sentimental thing he had ever managed in this life, and he'd while thought he had come up with it up on the spot, really, he had understood Finny's irrational fear of returning captivity for quite some time.

His words didn't prompt any kind response, except for longer and harder shuddering sobs. He couldn't see Finny's tears, but he could feel his shoulder becoming damper weighed down. But, that was okay with him. As long as he didn't have to see the tears, they were more manageable. They had always been more manageable that way.