Chapter Three: La Mémoire

Rachel closed the door to Ciel's bedroom after tucking the ten-year-old into bed. She had a hard time settling him down, he was so wound up after an exciting birthday. She padded down the hallway into her husband's study. He was finishing up some paperwork like always. Vincent looked up at Rachel's entrance and smiled.

"Is he finally asleep?" he asked. Rachel nodded and put her hands on her husband's shoulders and peered at his paperwork.

"Complaints?" she asked. He nodded. She kissed his forehead in sympathy. Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from behind the closed study door, followed by a distant scream from downstairs. Rachel and Vincent shot up. Vincent wrenched the door open.

And that's when the flames erupted. The fire eagerly devoured everything in its path, rapidly advancing upon the shell shocked couple. The heat started choking Rachel as she jumped back to avoid the glowing flames licking at her feet. But the action shocked the two back to reality. Both adults instantly sprinted out the door before the flames completely blocked their way out.

"Get out of here!" Vincent roared. "I'll get Ciel!"

"But -" Rachel began. She was interrupted by Tanaka's arrival. The normally impeccable butler was panting and disheveled, and an unhealthy amount of blood was splattered across his suit. After catching sight of the bloody katana in his hand, Rachel was relieved to see the blood was not Tanaka's.

"Sir! Madame!" Tanaka shouted over the roar of the fire, joining his employers in their dash to the mansion's foyer. "The hallway to young master Ciel's room is blocked! I cannot get to him!" As soon as the explosion started, Tanaka's first instinct had been to get his youngest master to safety. Rachel gasped in horror at Tanaka's words, instantly regretting her actions as all she inhaled was pure, black smoke.

"Tanaka's what happened?" Vincent yelled, noticing the sword, and addressing the butler's words.

"There are intruders in the house!" Tanaka shouted back. "I tried to reach the young lord, but a suit of armour fell in my path, preventing me from reaching his room. His door was ajar though, he may have escaped!"

A sob caught in Rachel's throat. Where was her baby?

"And the other servants?" Vincent demanded. Tanaka shook his head sadly.

"I'm afraid I don't know sir. As soon as the flames started I tried to get the young master," the butler said mournfully. Vincent's eyes narrowed.

"Tanaka, get Rachel out of here," Vincent ordered sternly. "I'll go back for Ciel."

"Too late for that," a voice rasped from behind them. "The brat's already dead."

The three adults whirled around to see a masked man approaching them with a gun. In her righteous maternal fury, Rachel lunged at the man. Her two male companions held her back just in time.

"You lie!" she snarled. The intruder shrugged.

"Last I saw the brat was heading straight for the landing that collapsed. Add in the fire, and he don't stand a chance." A ghastly smirk curled itself onto the man's face. Rachel screamed and broke free of the arms holding her back, scratching the man's face.

"You bastard! You killed my baby!" she shrieked in rage. Just then, a burning beam came crashing down from the manor's crumbling ceiling.

"We can't stay here!" Vincent cried. "Tanaka! Take care of this monster at once!"

"Of course, my lord," Tanaka said and sprang into action. But before he could reach the intruder, a gunshot sounded and the butler fell. Blood spurted from a new wound in his side.

"You won't be going nowhere," a second voice growled. Another masked man approached the Phantomhives and Tanaka from the opposite direction. This one was limping but held the still smoking gun with unwavering confidence.

"Oh dear," Tanaka murmured dazedly from the ground. "I truly apologize, my lord, I've failed you. It seems I missed a few varmints." The second varmint grinned cockily, and Tanaka lost consciousness.

"Tana - !" Rachel's cry was cut off by the first man, who somehow snuck up on them, grabbing her arms.

"RACHEL!" Vincent bellowed, leaping for his wife. However, the second man struck the back of his head. Vincent dropped like a stone.

"No!" Rachel screeched. She struggled against her captor before a searing pain bloomed at the back of her head.

Then, all was black.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Rachel blinked blearily, trying to adjust to her surroundings. She quickly became aware that her hands were bound, her head was pounding and there was a warm body lying next to her. Her eyes shot open, causing her head wound to throb. A small candle lit the space around her.

"Vincent!" she croaked, recognizing the figure beside her. "Vincent!" Her husband did not stir. Panic began to bubble in Rachel's chest, but she pushed it down violently. She could not afford to lose her head now.

Shuffling closer, she nudged Vincent as best as she could from her position.

"Please," she begged. "Please, wake up, Vincent! I can't…" The memory of that bastard's words, his utter confidence in her son's fate…

"Don't you dare leave me too, Vincent Phantomhive!" she choked, nudging her husband harder. Finally, she was rewarded with a low groan.

"Rachel?" he grunted. A hoarse laugh spilled from her mouth.

"You're alive," she whispered. Her husband slowly sat up.

"Where are we?" He gazed around the tiny cell. There wasn't much to see. The dirt floor, which had now become part of their wardrobes, was bare except for a pail in the corner. The three walls at their back were solid stone and the fourth was a series of thick iron bars. The bars were old and rusted, clearly unused for quite some time.

"What do you think they plan to do with us?" Rachel asked timidly. Her husband was silent.

"I don't know," Vincent said finally. His fear was reflected in his wife's eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Rachel had long ago lost track of time. She only knew time had passed when someone came to throw slop their way, three times a day. For all she knew, it could have been months… years. When she and Vincent had recovered from their initial injuries, they tried to escape, over and over again, but…

A part of them died that night, along with their son. It was like they no longer had a purpose, a reason to live. They were stuck in limbo, drifting slowly to nowhere.

They had long since given up on trying to identify their captor. They had their suspicions, strong ones at that. But what was the point? What was the point of living now? Their son was gone, why shouldn't they fade away as well? Then maybe… they could see him once more. Just… once… more…

Their captors seemed to realize the two had lost all motivation to escape, so they stopped binding the prisoners' hands. Not that it would have made much of a difference anyway - with the lack of sunlight and proper nutrition, the Phantomhives were a shadow of the people they used to be.

Rachel sighed, her eyelids fluttered shut. Next to her, Vincent's blank stare pierced the wall of their cell, unresponsive.

Just once more.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Occasionally more masked men would come by the cell, either to deliver slop or to poke fun at the once proud Phantomhives. But some also passed by without stopping. Rachel suspected their cell was along some kind of hallway, but where it led she had no idea.

Today was one of those pass-on-by days. The low voices - two it sounded like - passed by their cell without pausing. Rachel had learned to tune them out a long time ago, considering the comments made to or about her tended to be quite… lewd. But one word caught her attention.

"That damn Phantomhive brat! He's been gettin' too close lately," a gravelly male voice complained.

Phantomhive brat? Rachel wondered. A bubble of hope rose in her chest. Could they mean…?

"Did you hear that?" she whispered to her husband. He grunted. "Vincent!" she insisted.

"Rachel? What's wrong?" Vincent croaked, emerging from his thoughts.

"They're talking about him!" Rachel whispered tugging Vincent's arm.

"Who?"

"Ciel! He- he's alive!" Rachel said, desperately needing those words to be true. Vincent sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. His wife would do anything to cling to the hope that their young son was still alive somewhere. Vincent, however, had long since lost hope.

"Rachel -" he began.

"Shh!" she interrupted, straining to hear what the voices were saying. Vincent shifted his head towards the bars of the cell.

"I'm tellin' ya, one day that brat is gonna bust his way in here, and her majesty's not gonna 'e happy," one voice mumbled. "I nev'r liked that Phantomhive family. Now, I hate 'em even more. Imagine that, a child runnin' a multi-million dollar company, pullin' his rank ev'ry chance 'e gets. 'e must be payin' some fool ta do all the work for 'im then takin' all the credit. Who the 'ell does the brat think 'e is, anyway?" The chatty voice finally shut up for two seconds.

Hope filled Rachel's heart. That's it, they had to be talking about her son. Vincent was not one to chase false dreams, but… they couldn't be talking about anyone else. His son was.. alive? The notion was so absurd, but it was so tempting to give in to the hope. If his little boy was alive… they needed to get him. They needed to get to him yesterday. His wife apparently had the same thought.

"Vincent," she began but her husband cut her off with a grim smile.

"I've already got a plan. And this time, it will work," he said. He scanned the room before spotting a slightly crumbled section of wall. Pulling himself up with a groan, he made his way towards the rubble.

"You don't honestly expect us to break through that wall, do you?" Rachel asked skeptically. Vincent shook his head and gathered two fist-sized chunks of stone.

"No. Instead, we're going to die." At Rachel's scandalized look, Vincent quickly explained, "Put one of these in your clothes, under your arm. Squeeze it firmly against your side, and your heartbeat will slow to the point where anyone who checks your pulse will assume your heart stopped. I'll start making a fuss so they notice right away. Or would you rather do that part?"

"But why? I hardly think they'll care if we die," Rachel protested.

"They've kept us alive for a reason, darling. And besides, even if they don't need us they'll want to remove our 'corpses' so we don't stink up the place," Vincent reasoned. Rachel considered this.

"This seems too crazy to work… but that might just be our best hope," she said slowly. Then she shook her head. Her baby needed her. She would do whatever it took. Taking a deep breath she placed the stone under arm and lied down, watching her husband start rattling the iron bars of the cell.

"Help!" he shouted. "My wife, she's not breathing!" With that, Rachel closed her eyes and prayed this plan would finally get them out.

The rest of the night was a blur, but Rachel clearly remembered the moment when she tasted fresh air for the first time in forever.

"Come!" Vincent dragged her along behind him. Her normally reserved husband was unabashedly beaming. "Almost there!"

Their legs were shaky from captivity, but the adrenalin and pure elation at finally being free ensured they ran far away, hopefully leaving the nightmare behind.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"After that, we were lucky enough to meet a kind farmer who took us here. And, well, you know the rest. Unfortunately, while we have our suspicions we don't really know who those people were…" she trailed off.

Silence greeted her words.

"Ciel?" Rachel asked in concern.

Dazed, Ciel stood up and mumbled, "I'm going to retire now," before walking out the door. Ever the watchful butler, Sebastian trailed after him.

"Are you alright, my lord?" Sebastian inquired, already knowing the answer.

"I-I'm going to bed now, Sebastian," Ciel repeated absentmindedly. "Cancel all my appointments." Sebastian frowned, but bowed anyway.

"Very well, my lord," the butler murmured.