Alois woke up screaming. He'd been having the most frightful dream—first he had been in the memory of that last day of the village, the very moment that Luca died, and the cultists kidnapped him, that torture and the old man and the constant taunts of the villagers, and then he was in the forest where he'd first met Claude—only Claude hadn't spoken to him, hadn't come, no matter that he begged and pleaded (reached forward to kiss him but killed him instead) no, what had happened? Where was he? The sun pieced its way through darkened blinds, achingly bright, and he didn't like this dark, dour room that looked like deep water and drowning… There was a horrible, sharp pain in his chest, more painful than anything he had ever felt (except those days before Sebastian rescued him) it hurt!

"Claude," Alois cried out, pulling himself out of bed and stumbling at the unfamiliar height to the floor, in this unfamiliar, weak child's body; he felt like he had woken from a nightmare only to another nightmare. Why did it hurt so much? He was crying, the tears running cold down his cheeks and snot rushing out of his nose, and he couldn't breathe—why couldn't he breathe? What was happening to him? The walls seemed to sway drunkenly as he stumbled to the bathroom, operating on memory alone, and lit a candle on the the third try, with that tight, wrong feeling in his lungs still, and he pressed himself against the cool tile of the sink, still calling, "Claude, Claude, come here, please, I think there's something wrong with me! help me, Claude, I don't know what to do, that's an order," but none of it managed to travel from the back of his mouth to his lips, it all got caught up somehow, everything was going dark around the edges which scared him more—no, not the dark, and he was alone, and lost… why would Claude not come? Alois tripped somehow and fell down, watching the candle as it rolled crazily sideways against the floor, the flames licking experimentally against the tile as though wondering if it could eat it, before flickering out, and the darkness returned even greater...

...there was a numbness on his tongue, the opposite of that hot, burning feeling it always got when Claude was around; it felt like a dead fish in his mouth. He reached up to feel it, as though he would know what was wrong… Something's happened to the contract! he realized at last. It's there, but it's faded, off somehow…

/

"My lord. Can you hear me? Young master, please, answer me if you can."

Ciel opened his eyes to find Sebastian crouched over him with an expression of worry and concern; he was in his shirtsleeves and his hands were uncovered. In the darkness the contract glowed an eerie purple as Sebastian pressed his hands to Ciel's clammy skin.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked at last, seeing that Ciel was conscious.

Ciel opened his mouth, took a breath experimentally, and found that it entered easily. He sat up, leaning on Sebastian's outstretched arm, and put a hand to his forehead. "I don't know… Asthma. But I haven't… Not for years…" he breathed. "Something happened before that. Alois was here, he had woken up, but it hurt, and he didn't know what to do… he doesn't know how to deal with… the pain… Claude was gone and the contract…" Ciel's brow furrowed. "The contract, something happened to his contract. It felt almost familiar… I've felt it before… but I don't remember when… why can't I remember?"

"Please, calm down," Sebastian said, gently, "Working yourself into a state will not help you."

"I'm not working myself into a state," Ciel snapped. "That was Alois' fault. He panicked, and Claude wasn't there. If I had been able to do anything, I could have stopped it."

Sebastian held Ciel against him until he sighed and leaned back, letting Sebastian push his fingers through his sweat-damp hair to uncover his other eye; through the vague purple haze Ciel could make out blurry shapes and outlines that interacted strangely with the normal vision from his left eye. All of it was blurry, except for the answering purple on Sebastian's contract seal, which shone crisp and clear like the only real thing in that distorted world. Sebastian brushed a finger along his eyelid and the purple sparked up like fire, turning everything into a confused, sparkling haze of calm. Ciel allowed it for a moment, and then pulled away to sit on his own. He turned to look at Sebastian then, taking critical note of the strangenesses he had already noticed.

"What happened to your clothes?" he asked.

"That has something to do with the answer to your other question, I believe," Sebastian said, "but first I'd like to know why you've never informed me of your asthma. Such an illness seems like it would be my business to—"

"No," Ciel said, annoyed. "It's not, because it hasn't happened for years, and it wouldn't have happened if all Alois Trancy hadn't interfered." He stood up, and then spoke in a more thoughtful voice. "It was probably that stuff they kept dousing me in, actually… I was so cold after that, and it was so strange…"

Sebastian stood up as well. "Nevertheless, I think I will read up on the proper ways to deal with this issue."

Ciel sighed. "As you wish," he said, irritated. "Now, answer me: what did you do? —Don't look at me like that, this was your fault somehow, I can tell."

"I hardly think I could have been aware of the possible ramifications when I was not duly informed," Sebastian began, and continued, more precisely answering the question, at Ciel's glare, "I've dealt with Claude, for the moment; his contract with Alois Trancy is in abeyance and he will not be troubling us for some time."

"Hmph. Dare I ask how?"

"Does Alois Trancy know how such a thing can be managed?"

"Alois?" Ciel asked, startled. "How should I know?"

"You do have his memories," Sebastian said. "If he has experienced anything, you would know of it."

Ciel frowned. "No," he said at last. "I don't think he does." He looked carefully at Sebastian. "So, I would know of what he experienced, and he…" Ciel's fists clenched and then he looked away. "I see," he said at last, in a carefully controlled voice. "Is this your way of saying there are things you prefer not to speak of in front of him?"

"We do have our secrets," Sebastian said.

"And how are we to have them, if we cannot discuss them?" Ciel bit out. "That seems... quite inefficient."

"I will give my utmost to the solving of that problem, young master," Sebastian said. "And be assured that you will become aware of the answer, when I do."

Become aware, Ciel thought. But how will you tell me? He narrowed his eyes in thought. There's something Sebastian already knows, and he want me to figure it out—it has something to do with the limits of this inter-knowledge between Alois and I. But the answer hovered just out of his reach.

"All right," Ciel said at last, and sighed. "What is on the agenda for today, then?"

Sebastian opened his mouth, and hesitated, closing it with an apologetic, almost embarrassed expression.

"Let me guess," Ciel said. "There is no agenda. And it has something to do with you being busy getting rid of Claude." He picked up the fallen candle and pushed open the door to the bathroom, leading the way back to his bed-chamber. "I am getting very tired of days with no agendas."

"Perhaps breakfast first," Sebastian said, "and then, there is always paperwork to be done. As far as I know, you haven't been keeping up with that for the last few days."

"Wonderful," Ciel groaned.

.

.

.