Warning: This chapter contains a tiny amount of violence, which some may find disturbing – reader discretion is advised.

…

It was cold in the early autumn evening in Oakland. Locals and tourists alike gathered around inside this local landmark – Reinhold's First and Last Chance Saloon. A bar made famous by Jack London, there's even a replica of his Yukon cabin and a statue of White Fang outside.

The bar itself was odd; in fact, the whole place was odd – kept in the original condition as it was when London himself grew up there. This could be seen as a problem as the 1906 earthquake had made the building sink into the ground. A man in his mid thirties was sat at the bar, trying to balance himself precariously on the sloping wooden countertop.

"Would you like another?" A cool voice asked from across the bar, the man looked up at the beautiful dark olive skinned bartender and nodded. She took a new frosted beer mug from underneath the counter and positioned it underneath the tap at an angle, pulling on the lever; she pumped the cold liquid into the glass, smiling as she went through the motions.

The man looked at her curiously, he was a regular and had never seen her in there before.

"Are you new?" He asked, his voice was drawled, slow and weary. He had had a long day.

The woman nodded politely as she used a butter knife to smooth down any excess suds from the top.

"As a matter of fact, it's my first day today. How am I doing?" she asked as she placed the mug on a cardboard coaster and slid it in front of him.

"I think you're doing well." He grinned, finding her quite exotic and attractive, he tried to make himself more presentable by running his greased stained hands through his sandy colored hair, smearing a bit on his grubby forehead. "You're not from here are you?"

She leaned over the bar and stared into his hazel eyes, almost flirting with him.

"How did you guess?"

"Your accent, it's different – not one I've heard around here at least."

She grinned, her eyes were so large and bright he could see his reflection in them.

"I'm Israeli." She replied flatly.

"Israeli? I wouldn't have guessed."

The bartender shrugged, "Well, I would have been impressed if you could. I'm mixed with many different ethnicities but I was born and raised in Israel. I moved to England when I was in my teens – which throws people."

"Wow… Hey, say something in Jewish."

The bartender stifled her irritation at the demand.

"You mean Hebrew?" She spoke softly, laying her accent on thick. The man just grinned sheepishly and nodded at her correction.

"Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad. Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed…" Her words were gentle and almost sung.

"That was beautiful, what did it mean?"

The bartender combed her fingers through her luscious long locks.

"Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom forever and ever. It is the beginning of Shema – a Jewish prayer; we say it in the morning and at night, it is also said right before you die. Kind of like the Catholic Hail Mary." Her face was stoic but kind. Music started to play in the background as someone switched off the television behind the bar; the song was She Shines from Letherette. The patron listened to it for a moment as he mulled over the brief prayer from the bartender.

"Death? Grim. Well, it's nice anyway." He thought aloud. "So what brought you here?"

"Work."

"You came all this way to work in a bar?"

"No." She replied flatly. Her eyes looked over towards the door as another patron caught her eye.

A blond, about medium height came through the door. Almost instinctively, everyone in the cramped room stopped dead and watched her enter. She was in a tight paprika red skirt with the hem that went just to her knees, white blouse that was unbuttoned just so, it was revealing but kept everything hidden all at the same time. She sauntered over to the man at the end of the bar, slowly dragging her fingers down the wood as she approached, switching her hips from side to side to the beat of the song, nude Louboutin stilettos that elongated her slender legs tapped each time they made contact with the ground.

The mans' heart raced as she slid over to him, he looked around nervously as maybe there was someone else she was moving towards – no – it was him, he couldn't believe his luck.

The bartender came over to her and smiled. "What can I get you?"

"I'll have a Manhattan please, you do do those here, don't you?" The steely blond asked as she spied the choice of liquor behind the counter.

The bartender nodded and set about making her drink.

"So, you work on cars?" The blond turned to the man, he was a little taken aback as these were the first words she'd spoken to him and they seemed like they were mid conversation. The blond noticed the confusion on his face and let out an airy chuckle, "Oh! Excuse me, I have a nasty habit of doing things like that – I noticed the car grease under your nails and a little on your forehead – I just assumed that you worked on cars. My name is Lizzie by the way." She rambled her introductions. The man didn't mind her eccentricities; he just looked into her beautiful emerald eyes and was captivated.

"Uh, yeah, I guess you can say I work on cars." He grinned.

She flashed a bright smile as the bartender handed her the freshly shaken cocktail.

"Did you just finish a shift? You're covered in oil."

The man looked at his hands and his clothes and shrugged.

"Hm, I guess I am." He acknowledged.

"Would you like another beer?" Lizzie pointed to the empty mug.

"Uh, okay, I've never had a lady buy me a drink before, that's a first and probably my last." He chuckled.

"Well, I get the feeling that this is going be an evening of firsts and lasts." She giggled. Even though she looked like ferocious sex, smelled like desire and spoke in delectable and honeyed tones – she had the pure mannerisms of an innocent child.

She nodded to the bartender, who poured another mug of beer with one hand and with the other; she felt along underneath the bar and pulled out two little pills. Dropping them into the beer, the bartender studied the glass – watching the pills dissolve and the man with his gaze fixed on Lizzie. Once they did, she passed the mug onto the patron.

"Thank you Hannah." Lizzie smiled as the man guzzled down his beer.

"Hannah?" He said questionably.

"Yes, my name is Hannah, my namesake stands for self-sacrifice in faith." Her smile faded.

"What does that mean?" He chuckled, the pills starting to react to the alcohol, causing him to get very dizzy and drunk.

Walking around the bar, Hannah puts her head under his armpit and helps him to his feet. "It means, that I am obedient – that serving others gives me pleasure." She stated as they started to walk out.

The man drunkenly rolled his head to face hers, "What?" was all he could emit from his lips.

"I said that I came here to work and I work for her." She smiled as Lizzie trotted on ahead of them, opening the door as Hannah dragged him out.

Three hours earlier.

"Do you know what they call a quarter pounder with cheese in France?"

"Ronald, I swear to God, if you quote that film one more time, I'll decorate your face with shrapnel."

Sitting in a tinted window black sedan, Mey-Rin and Ronald were having the same conversation they had every time they were tasked to stand watch. After Lizzie had left and they had the lovely, aromatic curry that she had brought them – Ciel had unceremoniously tossed them out of his house so he could get ready for his date with Will.

Of course they had agreed to leave the house but nothing was said about them watching from their car. Not to mention that they were more scared of Lizzie then they ever could be with Ciel. This was nothing unusual for the pair; they were one of many of her personal servants that became her army. She never liked to do anything by pure force, preferring to charm her way through – however, there were times where she needed more clout and that's when she called in the cavalry. They never really minded standing guard but it was always the wait that wore on them. Mey-Rin turned the radio up a little louder, the song playing was Phoenix with 1901 – cheery and upbeat, a juxtaposition to what was actually happening, they were waiting for someone to attack another.

"How long does it take one bloke to get ready for a date with another bloke?" Ronald sulked; he was getting very bored of waiting.

Mey-Rin looked at him curiously from the side of her eyes, her glasses were propped on the top of her head, which meant that she was now being serious.

"Why, do you have a hot date?"

"I might, are you jealous Mey, my love? Just say the word and I'm yours." He joked.

Mey-Rin only rolled her eyes to this jibe.

"Honest to God, why haven't I killed you yet? I've said this so many times please let it sink into your thick skull, you're not my type." She said coldly.

"You're much more fun with your glasses on." He pouted. They listened to the music for a bit, then Ronald started to fidget in his seat again, taping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Who is this kid anyway?"

"You know I never ask questions."

Ronald hummed in agreement, it was true – out of the both of them, Mey-Rin was a cold blooded killer and by comparison Ronald wasn't anywhere near the same league as her.

If he really thought about it, he was a little intimidated by her. She can be turned on by the flick of a switch or in Mey-Rin's case, the flick of her glasses. Ronald sighed and thought of something to change the subject.

"I'll say one thing, he's got good taste in cars."

Mey-Rin turned her head to Ronald, curiously.

"Since when do you care about cars?"

"Since always. I've just never spoke to you about it, because you tell me often about how you hate the sound of my voice." He paused for a moment, "I used to work on classic cars like that one - it's a real sweet ride. There aren't many Mustang Cobras around anymore, especially ones in such good nick." He beamed at Mey-Rin, whose stern face was starting to soften. Ronald did annoy her but he was starting to grow on her – like a fungus, she thought.

Ronald ran his fingers through his bi-colored locks. "Eh up." He announced as Ciel and Alois finally made their way out of the house. The pair watched as the car was started and they started to drive off.

Ronald started the their car and followed at a discreet distance behind them, watching every twist and turn the car made.

"Something isn't right." He thought aloud.

"What do you mean?"

"The car is slowing down but it doesn't seem like he's pressing on the breaks."

"How do you know?"

"Look, the break lights aren't coming on." He said as he studied the vehicle's movements. They were coming up towards the intersection and Ciels' car didn't stop.

Suddenly, it was hit from the side. Two cars flew into the left hand side and another from behind.

"Holy shit!" Ronald slammed on his breaks and quickly pulled over to the side of the road. Mey-Rin quickly pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911 as she alighted from their vehicle and raced towards them.

Ronald fished out his cell from the glove box and pressed a preprogrammed number as he too got out.

'Hello?'

"Mistress, there's been an accident."

Blue and red flashing lights flickered; getting lost in all the other lights that crowd the San Franciscan night sky.

Ronald and Mey-Rin stood in the sidelines as they watched the police and paramedics do their jobs. Leaning against the hood, Ronald wondered how long it would take for the tow truck to arrive so they could finally leave – they had been waiting for an hour.

"Ugh, finally!" He groaned as the tow truck arrived. They watched as the driver got out of the cab, spoke to the police officer and started to hook Ciels' wrecked car to the truck getting ready for towing to the police pound yard for further investigation.

Mey-Rin walked over to the driver and Ronald watched their interaction at a distance. He saw the driver look over to him, nod his head repeatedly and then get back into the cab and drive off.

Running back to Ronald, she smiles at him. "The fix is in."

"What?" He asked her curiously.

Mey-Rin rolled her eyes as she got into their car, "Oh, so you are the only person who can quote shit?"

They followed the tow truck onto the Bay Bridge and into Oakland. Their journey led them down secluded side streets and around a back alleyway – the truck pulled up to an empty lot where there were rows of storage units side by side.

One of the storage units suddenly lit up, and the metal shutters lifted up, revealing Hannah and Lizzie – they were waiting for the truck. Dressed in matching coveralls with their hair pulled into ponytails they welcomed the driver.

"Put the car onto the hoist" Lizzie ordered. The driver did as told.

When he was finished and the car had been secured into place and lifted up so they could see underneath it, Hannah handed the driver an envelope, which was full of cash.

"Please come back in forty five minutes." She gave her instruction coolly.

Confused, the driver accepted the envelope, looking inside it quickly to see ten one hundred dollar bills. He nodded and asked no questions, he had called his manager on the way over and the boss said to do whatever the blond wants – no question. The driver noted that his manager sounded shaken but he couldn't figure out why – just looking at Lizzie, she seemed young and fresh faced, what power did she have over his boss.

The driver made his way out of the garage as Ronald and Mey-Rin approached. Hannah pulled out a creeper seat and placed it next to the front right wheel of the car. Ronald took off his black suit jacket and laid it over a nearby chair. Unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up the sleeves, keeping his black leather gloves on, he loosened his tie and squatted down onto the creeper seat – using his legs; he propelled himself under the car.

Hannah passed a large light to him under the car. Clicking it on, Ronald inspected the wiring.

"Ah-ha! Here's your problem. Someone has bled the brake fluid."

"What does that mean?" Lizzie questioned as she bent down to see what he was doing.

"If there is a leak in the break pipe, air can get in and contaminate the break fluid. The more air gets in, the less effective the effective the brakes are. Someone bled the breaks and it looks like they've done a through job, the wires here are in a right state and some of them look cut. This was a professional."

Lizzie hummed to herself as she digested Ronalds' explanation.

"A professional." Lizzie repeated to herself.

"Mistress." Ronald called out again, "the professional didn't wear gloves – I've got a clear grease print." He chuckled to himself, such a rookie mistake.

"Excellent work my pet." Lizzie congratulated as Hannah approached with what seemed like a line of tape.

Handing it to Ronald, he pressed the adhesive part of the tape over the fingerprint. Passing it back to Hannah, she carefully laid it on a white piece of paper and walked over to the table. She lifted the lid to the laptop and typed in a set of coding. When the screen she was looking for came up, she lifted the top of the nearby scanner and placed the taped fingerprint onto the glass.

The scanner light moved up and down as it worked to pick up the image, which finally appeared on the screen. Tapping away on the keyboard again, she pulled up the SFPD criminal database and ran the prints.

As the website searched through the database, Lizzie leaned against the table, completely deep in thought. "We have to make this look like an accident." She muttered to herself.

"My Lady?" Mey-Rin asked as she overheard the almost silent sentence.

"The police will carry out an investigation – we will need to make this look like an accident so there will be no further investigations." She directed that to Mey-Rin but she was still looking elsewhere.

"Hannah, do you think we can fix this to make it look like an accident?" She asked as she looked over to Hannah, who was fixated on the laptop screen.

"We'll have to." Hannah spoke curtly.

"Ronald, can you get this to look like an accident? Replace some of these bits with faulty wiring?" Mey-Rin asked as she was hunched over, peering at him through the hood of the car.

"I think so, it might take me a while though."

Finally, a match was made on the fingerprint, Derek Arden.

Derek Arden, was now a marked man.

Lizzie leaned over the table, scowling as she read the rap sheet on Derek, car theft mostly; he had been to jail on a number of occasions to serve his sentence on most of these crimes. As Lizzie studied the page, Hannah looked over towards her Mistress nervously. She knew what Lizzie wanted to do to Derek, she could imagine the whole scenario in her head but she could see Lizzie weighing out the pros and cons about executing her plan. No matter what she decides to do, it has to fit into the code of ethics given to her by her mother.

"We'll have to find this Derek." She said aloud. Mey-Rin nodded, this was another skill she was good at – tracking.

"Ronald, fix this car to look like an accident. When the tow truck driver returns, thank him and let him take the car to the police pound. We're going hunting." She smiled; a devilish glint shimmered in her large emerald eyes.

Labored breathing echoed through the room, bouncing off of the concrete walls and reverberating back into the eardrums. Panic and terror could be felt all over as the darkness started to seep in. There was no light, not even a sliver but he could sense that there was another presence in the room.

The familiar clicking sound of stilettos chimed out with each step forward. Finally, there was some light as the hood was removed from Dereks' head. He was naked, laying on his back on a cold granite slab, which was being used as a table. His body was tightly bound and he was unable to move. He was terrified, what felt like only a moment ago, he was in a bar flirting with this blond and now here he is, in a room with plastic and rubber everywhere. His head, unlike his body, wasn't fastened down, he could roll it around and try to take in his surroundings and with each visual his eyes laid on caused his heart to race uncontrollably.

Next to him on the right, there was a tray of surgical instruments and an array of saws. On the left was Hannah; she had donned a long rubber apron and long black gloves. She wasn't paying any attention to him; she just set about methodically preparing herself for her ritual. There was a haunting synth and bass heavy song playing out over speakers he could not see. It was Purity Ring with Lofticries – Hannah loved to work to music.

Lizzie bent over and her long blond hair fell over her shoulders and dangled loosely onto his face.

"Well, good morning, you were out for a while there, Derek." She giggled as her she couldn't help but be sarcastic.

"How do you know who I am?"

"I'm a professional just like you. I'm very good at what I do and I know how to cover my tracks, unlike you." She smiled, placing her hands on the cool countertop, she pressed down and used the momentum to propel her weight on to the counter, so she was sitting right next to him. She crossed her legs and bent over towards him, her face close to his, her long blond hair cascading like a waterfall around him, incasing him. He thrashed about the tabletop, trying to free himself but he couldn't he was held down securely – Lizzie only smiled at this as she moved closer to his face.

"W-why am I here? Why are y-you doing this to me?" He started to cry. She would be lying if she said that this pathetic display of cowardice didn't turn her on.

"You know why." She stated calmly, regarding his tear stained face and reddening eyes, wiping them as the tears poured out of the corners of his eyes.

"N-no, I-I don't!"

Lizzie turned and mounted him, hitching her skirt up to the top of her thighs. She leaned over him and pressed her index finger to his lips – stifling his fearful cries.

"Shhh, come now, don't lie. You know what you did so don't lie to me. I hate liars – tell him Hannah – tell Derek here that I hate liars."

"She hates liars." Hannah replied dryly. She was busying herself by sterilizing and ordering her utensils.

"See, I hate liars. So, let's try this again, what do you say?" Lizzie reached out and grabbed his cheeks firmly. Her red lacquered nails digging into his flesh, drawing blood. Ah, blood – Lizzie loved the smell of freshly drawn blood, the perfume of rich iron, the scent of beginnings and endings.

Derek whimpered under her grip, warm salty tears dripping down his lashes and cheeks. She could feel him trembling beneath her, it was electrifying but she knew the rules – he had to confess first, play later.

Lizzie let go of his face, blood oozed out of the cuts and she used her tainted fingers to wipe away his tears again, smearing the crimson liquid across his face.

"He's not saying anything, Hannah, this is very disappointing." She pouted, as she spoke over her should to Hannah, who had picked up a Wartenberg neurowheel, with very sharp teeth and handed it to Lizzie.

She held it out in front of her and examined it, making sure it was sharp enough, playing with the spikes and rolling it around on her fingertips. Bending over again, she pressed the teeth to his chest, smiling sadistically. "This may hurt." She warned as she grinded the wheel into his flesh.

Derek wailed in agony as she drew the wheel up and down on his chest with her right hand, using the left to cover his mouth tightly. Tiny pin prick blood spots started to form where she was rolling and she pressed down harder, running over his nipples, piercing and breaking the skin. Derek could feel a white-hot pain shooting through his body as she played with the wheel on his skin, creating decorative patterns and causing maximum pain.

She looked up at him for a moment, stopping the wheel on the tip of his right nipple, she put pressure on it, causing it to go right through his flesh. "Well? Are you going to talk or shall I keep going?" She asked gently as she rocked it back and forth, removing her left hand from his mouth.

"YES!" He wailed, "I w-was paid to do it!"

"Do what?"

"To bleed the brakes, to cut the wires – I swear I don't even know who the mark was!"

Lizzie removed the wheel and sat up for a moment, thinking.

"Who paid you?" She asked.

"I-I – oh God, I don't know." Derek was no longer in control of his emotions. Lizzie had stopped implementing any pain but he was still weeping.

"What did he look like?"

"It was dark b-but h-he had b-black hair!"

Lizzie snapped her head over to Hannah who looked just as confused. Black hair? She thought.

"Black, are you sure?" She questioned, if he was, they would have a new problem and unfortunately for them, Derek nodded frantically.

"I'm p-positive – please, please you have to believe me." He begged emphatically.

Lizzie rolled over and slid off of him and onto the ground. Feeling the weight of her off of him, he started to calm down a bit more. "I'm not lying." He continued, "You have to believe me."

"I believe you." Lizzie stated calmly, as she walked over to a steel scrub room sink and washed her hands. It seemed that she had a bit of a conundrum. If it was true that he didn't know who the mark was and it was just a job, according to her mother – she would have to let him go, however, the other issue was that she had grown increasingly protective of Ciel, which meant that her need to harm those who tried to harm him had over ridden her mothers' code of ethics. Besides, had Derek been successful, both Ciel and Alois could have died – he didn't think that through, did he? She wondered. That last thought was good enough for her, after all her mother was still in England and not around to police her daughters' deviant behavior.

"I've told the truth, are you going to let me go?" He begged. Drying her hands Lizzie walked over to the table and leaned over, resting on her elbows and looking at the artwork she had carved into his body.

"You may go." She decided, bending over into to his ear, "just not in one piece." She smiled.

She stood up, smoothed down her skirt as Derek started to shake, his eye began to water again as he sobbed. "But I told you the truth!" He tried to reason with her.

"You also tried to kill my friend. I can't in good faith, let you leave without paying for what you've done. That would be remiss of me." She admonished, still with an ever-present smile traced on her full ruby lips. "Take care of this for me, won't you Hannah, I'll be waiting in the car."

Hannah smiled and bowed slightly, "Yes Mistress."

Lizzie started to walk out of the room, stopping half way to listen to Hannah get started.

"Oh, and Hannah, make it quick please, I don't want to wait long." She chuckled. "Hm, I feel like Italian tonight or tacos – which do you prefer?" Lizzie asked as she continued to walk towards the door.

"It doesn't matter to me Mistress." Hannah called out as Lizzie exited the room. Turning to Derek, who was quaking on the countertop, she smiled broadly – this was her favorite type of job. "Well then, shall we get started?"

Derek shook his head 'no' frantically, unable to formulate any words.

Hannah ignored his feeble attempts to free himself and his tears. She went to the table and picked up a large pair of goggles and placed them over her amethyst colored eyes, her long lavender hair was already put up in a neat bun. Doing one last check over, she was happy that everything was in place – and she picked up a medium sized circular saw.

Turning it on, she began to sing loudly to drown out Dereks' pitiful tears. "Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad. Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed. V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha. V'hayu had'varim ha'eileh asher anokhi m'tzav'kha hayom al l'vavekha…" It was the Shema – which was fitting as, after all, he was about to die.

Walking towards the car, Lizzie could hear Dereks' agonizing wails from within the secure unit. It was delicious, a symphony of tears and screams of excruciating pain. Hannah must have been taking her time – tch, even though I distinctly told her to be quick. She sighed to herself. She couldn't really blame Hannah for taking her time, how could she not? Hannah was a machine built for killing after all.

Reaching the car, Ronald jumped out and opened the rear side passenger side door, allowing Lizzie in. Once in, she ran her fingers through her blond hair, shaking it out to create more volume. She checked her makeup, lipstick and smoothed down her skirt. Something on her shoes caught her attention; she rolled her eyes as she realized what it was. "Damn, I got blood on my Louboutins and it's so hard to get blood out of suede." She groaned to herself.

Two hours later, Hannah had finished the execution and disposal of Dereks' body. Lizzie had chastised her thoroughly, for the delay, albeit, half-heartedly, as was always the case. Hannah rarely disobeyed her Mistress and when she did it to seek punishment, Lizzie knew that was what she would want and gave her exactly the opposite – which in it's own way too, was a form of punishment.

Ronald was in the drivers seat, chauffeuring his Mistress to the hospital, she wanted to check on Ciel and make sure that he was all right. She also had a get well present to give him, which was something she felt she had to do in person – Lizzie was not the kind to ever feel swayed by her feelings but she did feel guilt over their last encounter. She had to keep reminding herself that he was innocent in all this and to try and push him away may be a frivolous task. Besides, thanks to the extra intel from her mother, Lizzie also had a stake in this too.

When they arrived at the hospital, Lizzie insisted on going ahead first, alone, much to the disagreement of her servants. She had to think, she needed time to think by herself. There was something troubling her, what did Derek mean by black hair, who was that? She wondered, knowing now she couldn't ask him – any piece of him.

Walking down the long corridor, she spied Sebastian, still dressed in his work attire and sat outside of the room, just out of site of the window and doorway. His elegant face was stern as he studied the pitch colored carpet underneath his feet. Lizzie approached him and took a seat next to him; he seemed oblivious to her arrival.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked casually. Crimson eyes moved from the carpet to her, they were narrowed into slits as he was scowling.

"Where the hell have you been? I tried to ring you-"

"I was taking care of something."

"What was more important than making sure Ciel was Ok?" He spat. Lizzie rolled her eyes at this bizarre display of emotions.

"I was making sure he was Ok, Ronald and Mey-Rin were the ones at the scene when-"

"What the fuck happened?" He hissed in whispered tones so as not to be over heard by the patient in the room.

Lizzie furrowed her brow, "Would you stop acting like a fucking child Sebastian!" She barked back, "You're too old for this shit, seriously. I took care of it, Ok? His name was Derek Arden and he was hired by someone to tamper with Ciels' car."

"Was?"

Lizzie smiled drolly, "Let's just say that he won't be tampering with any other vehicles, er, ever again."

Sebastian grabbed her arm tightly, Lizzie didn't fight against him, she understood that he was angry and she didn't feel like challenging him. "Do not toy with me Elizabeth." He growled.

"You would be very wise to take your hands off of me." She replied coolly. Realizing what he had done, Sebastian immediately relinquished his grip.

Whilst it was true that Lizzie loved Sebastian, that love never clouded her judgment, nor her treatment of him. However, seeing him now, seeing the worry and sadness etched on his face – Lizzie realized that she couldn't punish him any more than Sebastian was punishing himself. This had become a mess – one she wasn't so sure she could clean up after all

"Sebastian, I am a fixer – I can fix any problem that comes to my door but I can't fix you." She said resolutely.

Sebastian studied her face, trying to interoperate what she had said.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you want with him? Do you want a relationship or is this just part of the game between you and Claude?"

"Well, he wants nothing to do with me so-"

"And yet you're still here." She smirked.

"I am still here, I just couldn't leave him here alone."

Lizzie hummed and nodded her head. Her gaze was straight ahead but she could see Hannah in the corner of her eye.

"You know he can't love someone like us, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Sebastian, how can you honestly say that after all of this? We're sadists and I don't mean just our sexual preference. We delight in hurting others – we go of our way to do it."

"So, that's what you told him…" Sebastian muttered to himself, thinking back to what Ciel had said a few hours ago.

"I only told him the truth. Let's be honest, we aren't nice people – correction, we can be nice when it suits, we aren't good people."

Hannah approached the pair; Lizzie looked over at her and nodded. Standing, she put her hand on Sebastians' shoulder.

"Figure out what you want and let me know. I'll pick up the phone this time."

Going into Ciels' room, Lizzie slapped on her best brightest smile as she entered. Ciel was sat up scowling with his arms crossed.

"What do you want? Come to tell me there's no such thing as Santa?" He snapped.

"My you're funny. You're a funny guy." She smirked sardonically as she sat on his bed. "I've come to give you two things, the first thing is this." Hannah held out her hand and Lizzie took the set of keys that were in her palm and gave it to Ciel, who looked at them quizzically.

"What's this?"

"Well, unfortunately, your car has been totaled. These are the keys to your new one – a navy blue 1965 Ford Mustang."

Ciels' face flushed with embarrassment. "You don't have to get me a car, I can use BART or something."

Lizzie shrugged, "BART is always on strike and your University is in Berkeley – you need a car."

Ciel tried to hand the keys back but Lizzie held her hand up and avoided taking them.

"Come on, I can't accept this."

"Yes you can because it leads me neatly into the second thing I want to give you – an apology. I would like to apologize for what I said this evening." She sounded so sincere that Ciel almost believed her – almost because he couldn't tell which Lizzie this was, the sweet one or the evil one – little did Ciel know that they were one in the same.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"Don't get me wrong, I meant every word I said – I just failed to mention that people can change. Look who I'm talking to? You're a budding shrink, you know that change is the only constant in this world."

Ciel looked at her blankly, this was true – it's one of the first laws of science – change is constant. Lizzie enjoyed watching his mind turn over; she just knew it was flooded with so many thoughts.

"How do you know that people can change?" He asked quietly.

She shrugged, knowing she had the perfect example. "Sebastian told me that you didn't want to see him any more, is that true?" Ciel nodded, "Well, there you go. The Sebastian I knew wouldn't be sat outside making sure you're not alone – even though you can't see him, he's been there this whole time." She paused for a moment, watching Ciels' face as it flushed vermillion. "The Sebastian I knew wouldn't have been here to begin with."

"What do I do Lizzie?" He asked. She had an answer, she had more than one but now was not the time, besides, she had to go, there was a black haired man she needed to hunt down.

Sliding off of the bed and giving Ciel a quick peck on his forehead she headed for the door.

"I have so many answers for you but ask me later and I might be in a better position to share." She smiled, "Enjoy the car, Ronald and Mey-Rin will tell you where it is, they'll be outside."

"Why are you doing all of this? You don't even know me."

"I know you better than you think I do Ciel Phantomhive, I'm just that damn good at my job."

"What is your job?"

"I'm a fixer." She said flatly, "Good night." She walked out of the door before he had the chance to ask any more questions. She had one of her own – who hired Derek?

Authors' Note: BART - Bay Area Rapid Transit.

Lizzie's Chapter Playlist

Purity Ring - Lofticries

Letherette – She Shines

Phoenix – 1901