(A/N)

I'm back, babydoll.

The present update rate is not normal, btw. Don't expect it to continue at this rate for long.

All I can say is I've been looking forward to the next chap since I started this fic.

Big thanks to fallacies, Hecturnus and Fluflesnufaluphagus.

"If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance."

"George Bernard Shaw clearly doesn't have a servant that can produce explosions from nothing."

Emiya and Ciel.P

Samuel Johnson — the accomplished writer of the English dictionary — had stated that when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life could afford.

Ciel Phantomhive begged to differ. When one is tired of life, he goes to London, because misery absolutely loves company.

London was an assault on the senses: full of ashen men and women bustling about and horses relieving themselves as they plodded down the streets. Ammonia and soot discolored the buildings that lined the streets, urchins and beggars sorted through the trash looking for their next meal, and the smell: Good lord, the smell. Tens of thousands of working horses in London inevitably had consequences for the streets.

The moment Ciel Phantomhive took a whiff of Eau de London — a heady mix of week-old excrement, smog and urine — he resolved never to spend more time in the sprawling city than necessary. To hell with those people accusing him of being 'sheltered'; if being sheltered meant staying away from London's muck and filth then any normal person would sequester himself in their manor as much as they could.

If this is what our capital has to offer, no wonder India's the crown jewel of the British Empire.

As they made their way to the Royal Hospital a little way off from Whitechapel, Ciel took the chance to observe his servant who remained remarkably unfazed at the excitement of it all. Indeed, the only thing that betrayed his unflappable exterior was the barest crinkling of his nose. As he was hoisted over a puddle of questionable contents, Ciel had a pretty good idea of what was on his servant's mind. What was the point of being a spirit if one couldn't disengage from this stench?

"You know," his servant muttered dryly, upon setting Ciel down gently onto the pavement once more, "should Queen Victoria ever decide to send you to manage London's sewage problem, I have to insist that we accept. I don't think we can abide a moment of this any longer than necessary, and it'd be good to actually do something productive for the city."

Ciel looked alarmed, even as Emiya shielded him from the drippings of a passing chimney sweep. "The Queen wouldn't bother sending me for something as pedestrian as that."

"You are already figuratively the cleaner of the Royal Family." His servant reminded him, and not for the first time that day Ciel resisted the urge to kick him in the shins. "Why shouldn't they take that literally? Maybe she'd do you a kindness and give you a job that doesn't require you to kill or maim."

If that ever does come to pass, I'll make sure you do laps in every single cesspool in the city, you puffed-up, pusillanimous piece of pyrite. Don't think I won't.

"The state is already in the process of building a sewer network."

"Well it's not bloody working, is it?" Emiya retorted, watching as two boys hastily shovelled fresh horse dung onto the side of the street, joining the growing piles of mud that wasn't mud. "While I'm sure people will collect animal refuse at night to be sold to the farmers in the countryside, I'm sure you realize this situation is untenable."

"Yes, well, that's the problem of the state, and I'd like to keep it that way." Ciel firmly stared ahead, making out the Royal Hospital in the distance. "I have my sights set elsewhere, and you should too."

"I'm sure."

A market stood between them and their destination. Seeing the bustle of the crowd and the squalor of the pavement, without a word Emiya crouched, back facing his master, arms outstretched. Warily, Ciel slung his arms around Archer's shoulders, and his servant stood hoisting him further up for good measure. It was in this position that the two navigated their way through the people packing up their wares.

"Does this bring back any memories?"

Scowling, Ciel removed his head from Emiya's shoulders in a flash. "That's none of your business."

His servant chuckled, and Ciel felt the soft shaking of his back. "We're only making polite conversation, and I'm sure you wish to take your mind off the smell, if for a moment."

"How?" Ciel muttered dully, watching as a woman in overalls stowed away a tray of baked goods long gone cold, "By thinking about the family that was brutally taken away from me?"

"By thinking of happier times," his servant's tone was gentle. "And besides, it does one little good to think of the past and neglect the future. Perhaps your efforts will be better served protecting what friends and family you have left."

"I don't have friends, I have acquaintances and colleagues." Ciel muttered. "Besides, I cannot confide in them. How can I even begin to describe what happened? No, were it up to me - and it is, as a matter of fact - no one shall ever-"

His words were cut short as Emiya tensed, his servant turning around, suddenly alert.

"What is it?"

His servant gazed critically at the crowd, scanning the rooftops for good measure.

"I thought I felt…" His servant muttered, still looking for anything amiss, before sighing. "Never mind."

"Emiya," Ciel growled, "if there's any danger to us at all, I insist you tell me."

"As I said, Master, all I have are suspicions of my circumstances." Emiya calmly reiterated. "Which reminds me, there are things I need to investigate on my own before returning to your service."

That was news to the young Earl. "What things?

Emiya scanned the crowd once more, then relaxed. "Things that you have no need of knowing. I daresay you have enough on your plate already."

"Emiya…"

"Isn't it the butler's job to get rid of problems before they become known to his master?" His servant smirked, making his merry way once more, "All I am doing is my due diligence as your servant, Master."

"Don't speak to me as though I'm a child."Ciel bit out, stung at how transparently manipulative his servant was behaving. "If it affects the Phantomhive family, it is your duty to tell me."

His servant considered this, and Ciel waited patiently as the two cleared the marketplace at last, arriving at the lit doors of the Royal Hospital.

"Soon, then, once I've had the chance to assuage my doubts. My luck has never been considered good, but just this once…" His servant set him down, and Ciel realized with a start that his countenance had grown grim, "I hope I'm wrong."

"Remember, behave in a manner befitting of your station," Ciel hissed, the duo making their way to the reception desk. Don't speak unless spoken to, and under no circumstance at all are you to divulge what happened unless I permit it. And for god's sake, don't you have anything more appropriate to wear?"

"Rather late for that, aren't we?" His servant muttered, looking comically out of place garbed in deep red against the hospital's bleached white. "I could have changed into something more appropriate elsewhere, but we're already here."

"Then I advise you to get creative." Ciel snarled, pointing at a utility closet down the hall. "Get in there, get changed to something respectable, then come back for me. I can take care of myself in this, at least. Or do I need to command you to keep your mouth shut in front of others?"

"That'd be a waste of a command spell, and I'd imagine it would backfire spectacularly in the future. Besides, I'll have you know this sacramental shroud is more respectable than half the people in this room-"

"Emiya!"

"Yes, Master." With the barest inclination of his head, Emiya briskly made his way down the hallway, leaving the boy in front of the reception desk and a deeply bored receptionist who watched the entire conversation with the polite detachment of one in the service sector.

Ciel cleared his throat.

"I'm looking for Doctor Ann Durless."

And as the receptionist took a gander at her files, Ciel inwardly felt relieved his voice didn't crack.

"Dr Durless is currently in pre-op for a Miss Mary Ann Nichols and will be unavailable for the next hour." The receptionist peered over the counter "I could always take a message."

"Yes, well, I think you'll find that this matter is rather urgent." He insisted, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms. "Please tell her that her nephew is here to see her."

"That's all well and good, but she's in the middle of an operation, and is presently unfit to see anyone." The receptionist's tone was curt, armed with the silken glove of civility. "Please have a seat in the waiting area."

"Did you not hear me when I say that it's urgent?"

"I did. But doctors have a duty of care to their patients, and if every doctor ran out at the first sign of trouble we'd be in dire straits."

"Can't you at least go in and tell her-"

Behind them there came a clatter and a gasp. "Young master?!"

Ciel whirled around, struck.

The source of the disturbance became readily apparent, as a bespectacled old man had lunged out from his wheelchair in his haste to reach out to the young Earl. A lone arm remained outstretched even as the orderlies hurried in getting him back to his seat.

He'd deny it to anyone who asked later, but Ciel's eyes shone with tears.

"Grandpa!"

Throwing caution and dignity to the wind, the boy jumped into the man's arms: caretaker and master reunited at last.

It was to this scene that Emiya returned to, adjusting his coat sleeves, dressed to kill and with the mentality to match, wondering just who it was his Master saw fit to embrace.

"I see, so that's what happened."

One heavily abridged re-telling of the sordid affair later, the three found themselves back in the man's ward. As Ciel took a stool next to the man's bed, Emiya hung back near bouquets of well-wishes, keeping his head down and pretending not to eavesdrop as was his wont.

"I am sorry I could not protect your father. I'm even more deeply ashamed at the fate I allowed you and your brother to suffer through." The man spoke gravely, head bowed in shame.

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

The man looked as though he wanted to object but merely sighed and held his tongue. He directed his gaze to the other occupant in the room.

"And this is?"

Emiya raised a questioning brow to his Master, clearly handing him the reins of the conversation.

"... This is Emiya. He saved my life, and I've a mind to appoint him as the next butler to the House of Phantomhive. Emiya, this is Grand- no, Tanaka." Ciel hastily corrected. "He's served my family since forever."

"It's nice to meet you." Tanaka murmured.

"It's nice to meet you too. Please treat me well."

Ciel blinked. Tanaka had a look of utter surprise. Emiya bit his tongue, wondering if he said too much. The urge that seized Emiya to reply in Japanese upon hearing Tanaka's name was instinctive.

"Pardon me… it has been such a long time since I last heard my native tongue; a pleasant surprise, to be sure," Tanaka admitted, "though I think for the sake of our young master we should continue speaking the Queen's."

"Of course," his servant inclined his head, "forgive my presumption. It's been a long time since I had the chance to converse with someone from home."

"I have not returned to Japan in fifty years. This is my home now, for better or worse." Tanaka looked wistful, and Ciel wondered not for the first time just who his servants were outside of their job.

"Young Master said you wanted to be the butler at his household." Tanaka went on.

"Officially, yes, though privately I think the only task I can qualify for is for my master's guard. And I wouldn't be so bold as to say want," Emiya admitted, "but I shall endeavour to do whatever that is asked of me by my Master."

"In that case, I'd like you to have this."

From Tanaka's chest pockets came a beautifully engraved pocket watch, which he placed in Emiya's outstretched hands.

"This has been in the line of Phantomhive butlers for generations. It has been passed down from every Phantomhive butler to the next. Emiya-san," Emiya's eyes grew comically large as Tanaka got up and prostrated himself in front of him, "I beg of you to do what this old man has failed to and can do no longer: take care of the Young Master."

"Please, Tanaka-san, get up, please don't bow to me." Emiya hurriedly straightened him up, taking a knee at his bedside. "If the failure's yours, then it is mine as well. Had I done my job well, my master's brother would be here together with us. I am unworthy of such deference. Please, I insist you rest."

Ciel watched with some annoyance as Emiya showed his caretaker more respect in 2 minutes than he had been shown in the entirety of their time together. For all that he was relieved that Emiya could conduct himself respectably, it irritated him to no end that he reserved his harshest barbs for when the two were alone.

Two can play at that game.

"It is a difficult job that you are undertaking, Emiya-san. Running a British household as illustrious as ours is not an easy task at all." Tanaka looked grim even as he settled back onto his pillows with a small groan. "When I am finished recuperating, I shall be back to give any guidance you shall need."

"That's very kind of you, but please, prioritize your recovery." Emiya insisted, having returned to his master's side. "I'm a quick learner and my master already seems to have ideas on how the manor is to be run, from matters concerning the kitchen to the privies."

This little-

Ciel turned and gave Emiya a healthy scowl. His servant looked entirely unconcerned, returning a small grin as if challenging him to say otherwise in polite company.

To hell with it.

Ciel Phantomhive was just about to give his servant the mother of all tongue-lashings when the door to their room flung open with a bang.

"I came as soon as I heard! Ciel! Is it you?!"

The three turned to look at their newest visitor: a doctor in scrubs with her glossy red hair pulled back in a loose bun.

His master solemnly got up, all preparation for a tirade forgotten.

"Aunt Ann. It is good to see you again."

"Ciel!" She hurried over to embrace the boy in her arms. "You've gotten so thin, I was ever so worried! What happened to you? Are you hurt? We need to get you examined at once-"

"No!" Ciel pulled back, alarmed. "No need, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me."

His aunt didn't look as though she understood. "Ciel. Auntie's a doctor, and you've been missing for weeks! At least allow me to give you a checkup-"

"Aunt Ann, I'm fine!" Ciel insisted, his voice showing cracks of panic. "Really, I'm unhurt."

Emiya watched the back-and-forth with some concern.

'Master. What's going on?'

Ciel froze, turning to look at his servant in surprise.

'This is a mental link, say what you want to say here.'

'I was branded.' Ciel's eyes were wide with horror. 'If she does a physical checkup, she'll find it for sure. Back me up here!'

There was nothing for it then. Emiya cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"My lady, I've examined the young master myself and I assure you whatever problems he may have are not… physical in nature. He is, otherwise, the picture of health. Please take my master for his word."

At his words, the doctor frowned, and turned to appraise him in a mix of undisguised curiosity and doubt.

"And you are?"

"My name is Emiya." He gave a polite bow of his head, "and I am the newest butler of the Phantomhive family. It is good to meet a family member of my master at last."

"And with that said, Auntie," Ciel tugged at her sleeves, "there are matters we need to discuss, preferably in private. Are you presently available?"

"What a question!" She huffed. "If I can't make time for my family, what use am I? Come, I'll bring you to another room."

And with that, the two retired to her office, leaving two generations of Phantomhive butlers in shared silence.

Archer sighed, dropping his deferential tone in a flash. "I feel like I should be in the room with him."

"The first thing one must learn as a butler is to obey his master's wishes," Tanaka's merry eyes twinkled under his glasses, "even if they aren't necessarily to his benefit."

"Oh I understand that, old man." Archer gently sunk down onto the stool by his bedside with a huff. "God forbid I infantilize my Master, and I know I certainly cannot live their life for them. But it's frustrating: as a matter of fact, I do know what's best for him, I'm older and more experienced besides. Can you tell me you've never felt this way before?"

"More times than I'd care to admit." Tanaka easily admitted. "But I've never let such thoughts get in the way of my duty, and it'd do you good to remember that."

"Yes, but it'd also do my master good to take my advice as someone who knows better. I mean, you've taken care of him presumably all his life and he won't even-" Archer stopped himself, and sank back down onto the stool, resting his arms on his knees. "He won't even tell you the full story."

"If the young master wishes it so, then it is to be." Tanaka murmured thoughtfully. "All we can do is trust that he will share his story when is ready to. Unless… you wish to confide in me? I'm old, and no one will listen to someone like me besides."

Archer shook his head. "No. As tempting as that sounds, I respect my master's wishes. And he has been quite emphatic that secrets remain secrets. It's just… what he's doing is a mistake and left unchecked will undoubtedly fester into something worse."

The young man looked lost, absently cracking his knuckles as he wondered how he could possibly entangle the mess he inherited.

"... would you care to indulge an old man as he tells a story?" Tanaka finally said.

Archer shrugged, waving a hand for him to go ahead.

"It is a tale of twins." The man began, crossing his palms over his stomach. "One was the picture of health, and since young he was trained in matters concerning his father's station. He received a gentleman's education, he was trained in the requisite extracurriculars, he was groomed to be the perfect heir. The other was sickly, spending his days bedridden as he watched his brother take part in such activities with gusto. And though his father saw something special within him, there could only ever be one heir to the Phantomhive estate. It is that young boy one butler looked after more than the other, and if that butler was feeling presumptuous he would say he knew him better than what remains of his family did."

Archer stilled, raising a solitary brow at the old man.

"Such familiarity was reflected in their relationship. Whilst his brother was ever so cordial, calling the butler by name as would befit his station, this young boy never possessed such compunctions, going so far as to call this butler 'Grandpa'."

Archer groaned, raising a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "Of course. Of course you'd know. It was a stupid idea from the beginning, even though my master insisted. And look where we are: the truth uncovered barely an hour into the whole charade."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," the old man projected an image of perfect innocence, betrayed by a traitorous curling of the corners of his lips, "this is merely a story I'm concocting with no specific family in mind."

"Old man." Archer looked exhausted. "I've spent four years in an institution where doublespeak was the primary language spoken. Servant to servant, let us speak plainly, I beg of you, for my own sanity."

Tanaka looked troubled. "And here I went to the trouble of feigning ignorance through a well spun story."

"What story? It's as transparently allegorical as the tale of the fox in the vineyard. The world would be a much simpler place if people would just say what they mean."

"You have a lot to learn about the kind of company our young master is going to rub shoulders with." Tanaka sighed, rubbing at his temples. "But no matter. I assure you that I have no intention of betraying the young master's confidence, if that is what worries you."

"What worries me is this charade continuing for any longer than is necessary." Archer bit out, feeling immensely frustrated. "I mean, all it took for you to figure out was an erroneous slip of the tongue-"

"And the young master's eyes."

"What?!"

"The young master has inherited his mother's eyes. His brother, his father's. It is easily missed, but very distinctive to those that have known him well."

"Well that's just marvelous. Fantastic." Archer threw his hands up. "If his Aunt on his mother's side doesn't notice her sister's eyes staring back instead of his father's I'm secretly a fiddler crab."

"If the Lady Durless notices Ciel Phantomhive is not Ciel Phantomhive she's not likely to say anything. Why put the last remaining member of her family she has left?" Tanaka assured him. "The young master didn't just lose his parents and brother in the manor's attack, you know. Lady Durless lost her sister and brother-in-law too."

"And what of the others? If my master continues to insist upon his masquerade, it's just a matter of time before the house of cards crumbles." Archer remained adamant. "Tanaka-san, I beg of you, tell my master that what he's doing is well-meaning but wrong. He should be his own person."

"I'm sorry, Emiya-kun," Tanaka looked away, "but it is not my place to do so."

"Do you understand why he thinks he needs to do this?" Archer argued, giving the hopeless task a final try. "My master has the self-esteem and the backbone of a jellyfish, using barbs and harsh words to hide his insecurities. For the most of his life, his brother has been a symbol of strength and courage and charisma, and he the useless spare. All his self-worth lies in him playing the part of his brother, a decision borne from survivor's guilt and not being taken seriously all his life. What good is his recovery if he attributes it all to taking his brother's guise? It's a plan that's doomed to fail. Tanaka-san, I beg you, if you care about him at all, implore him not to do this. He doesn't deserve to be alone."

Tanaka listened to Archer with an impressive calm, even as he had stood up amid his outburst. A little embarrassed at the outward display of passion, Archer sat back down, watching as Tanaka gave him a kind smile.

"He's not alone, Emiya-kun. He has you."

Archer was disturbed to feel a lump in his throat.

"... he deserves better than someone like me, I'm as good as nameless." He finally said, forcing his voice to be curt. "Besides, he deserves something that lasts, someone else he can confide in, something he can call his own."

"But you care, Emiya-kun. And sometimes, that's all one needs. It's not our duty to question what the young master thinks is best. What we trade for our master's explicit trust and confidence is our right to make our own decisions, our own mistakes. All we can do is trust that, in time, he'll see fit to trust those close to him with the truth."

Oh, sure. My master will embark on his quest in dealing with the worst scum this city has to offer for Queen and country, but I'm sure that the odd assassination attempt will allow him to open up to others.

"To hell with duty, sometimes it's a matter of doing what's right."

"If you ever plan on becoming a good butler, learn to put your duty above all else." Tanaka sounded tired, yet continued looking at Emiya appraisingly. "If I may ask a final question, without getting into any specifics, why?"

Archer looked confused. "Why what?"

"Why did you step in and save the young master in a matter that did not concern you?"

Archer scowled. What a stupid question. "Because…"

Because the alternative would be to let him die.

Because it's my job.

Because I had no choice.

Because he's my master.

All of them non-answers that didn't explain why he felt the need to step in himself.

… It's really going to come back to this again, isn't it.

Sighing deeply, Archer very pointedly averted his gaze from Tanaka.

"... Because, when I was young and naive and stupid", Archer confessed with all the enthusiasm of one having his teeth pulled, "my dream was to become a hero."

…

God damn it, Kotomine definitely had something to do with this.

"Do not be embarrassed, Emiya-kun." The old man's voice was gentle. "It is a beautiful dream."

"It is flawed. It is full of holes and falls apart upon scrutiny. It's a dream that has brought me more problems than happiness."

"And yet it is beautiful all the same."

Archer didn't quite know what to say in response to that, so he resorted to grimacing and looking away.

With a small groan, Tanaka stretched where he sat. "Dear me, I'm not getting any younger. But this has been a most productive talk."

"Has it?" Archer questioned dully. "It rather seems that we've been going in circles with no one budging from their respective positions."

"Of course it was." Tanaka's eyes twinkled, "I now know you much better than I did before, and I have full confidence you'll do your best in guiding the young master through hell or high water. You already have the banter down pat."

"That goes without saying." Archer huffed. "I am, above all else, professional."

The man took Archer's hand in his. "It is difficult, but trust in the young master. I think you'll find that he will surprise you."

It wasn't like Archer had any other choice. This was his life now, for better or for worse.

"On that note, I wanted to ask," Archer remembered with a start, "what exactly do you do as the head butler? Give me a rundown of a normal week."

"Oh, where do I begin?" A glint appeared in Tanaka's eyes. "I do hope you plan on taking notes."

"Did you talk to Tanaka about anything important?"

"Did you talk to Dr. Durless about anything important?"

His master looked unimpressed, turning away from the London lights from the window of the carriage.

"I ask the questions here, Emiya. Not you."

Archer sighed. "Your caretaker has provided me with a detailed explanation of my responsibilities as your butler going forward and about what to do on a day-to-day basis."

"Did you two discuss anything else?"

Archer hesitated.

"Nothing else he didn't already know."

The answer seemed to satisfy his master, and he returned his gaze outside. The carriage his aunt commissioned was plush and stank faintly of mildew, but his master settled onto the cushions comfortably all the same.

Illuminated by the soft street lights, his master looked tired yet seemed deep in thought.

"Do I need to worry about your aunt finding out the truth?"

"She doesn't know." Ciel stated with ill-deserved confidence. "I kept my asthma in check throughout our entire talk. That's the only thing I can think of that would possibly give me away."

You'd better think harder. You deeply underestimate those closest to you, Archer thought as the carriage rumbled its way over a pothole. Soon, the carriage left the busiest streets of London, far enough that the two of them could begin to see the stars outside over fields of darkness.

Unbidden, Tanaka's words returned to him. "Trust in the young master."

Archer sighed.

"Master."

"What is it, Emiya?"

The servant tapped his fingers lightly on the windowsill, wondering just how he could phrase his thoughts delicately. His master, perhaps sensing the severity of the moment, waited patiently for Emiya to continue.

I don't serve Ciel Phantomhive. I serve you.

Archer shook his head. "It's nothing. I was thinking of nonsense."

His master blinked. "Ah. So nothing out of the ordinary, then?"

"Oh piss off, Master."

And for a moment, Archer swore he saw his master almost smile in the moonlight.

"Oh? Is that how Grandpa instructed you to speak to me? Your master? For shame!"

As quickly as it began, the rare moment of honesty between master and servant was extinguished. The carriage ventured deeper into the countryside, and the two of them devolved into much of the same bickering that had plagued them on the way to London. The opportunity for honesty and cards laid on the table would come another time, but for now:

Ciel Phantomhive was coming home.