A/N: HEY GUYS! Once again, another chapter has been posted!
Firstly, I would like say THANK YOU to those who are following and liking my story, so far. Especially HoloObsession, Gisolei, MegaVine, and HimeGee17. Usually, I don't do thank yous like this, but since I'm on chapter 15, and I've had my story posted for a while now, I decided to give a quick thank you.
Secondly, there is an Undertaker POV in this chapter. And a bit of arguing/fighting… but it doesn't last forever.
Soon, we'll be going to the Phantomhive manor, so get ready! I figured the mansion would be a ways away from London, considering it takes Ciel and Sebastian a while to get from the mansion to the city of London, in the anime/manga. During the Jack the Ripper arc. That's the best reference, since you can see the sky change in the anime, and it corresponds to the manga, at least at the beginning half of the season 1. So… not all day, but it'd take time. They're at least a couple of hours away, if they need a townhouse and the 'land' the Earl of Phantomhive owns looks extensive. Look to the recent flashbacks with the twins and Vincent to notice that. Also, I'm going to guess maybe the Midfords are further from London… maybe close to the Phantomhives, in terms of distance, but maybe further away from London. That's why Lizzy goes to the Phantomhive manor, then drags Ciel to London. I think there's a scene in the manga where she does that, before the Ship arc?
Well, anyways, enough explaining. I may add one more chapter before I call it quits for the day. A bit of closure for the mess this chapter is going to be… Once again, I'm writing this to let out some angst, as well as create a story. I'm still not sure if Clara is a cause of a recreation of the world, where the ending is different, or if the outcome ends up the same… but we'll see. I've noticed this story is getting lengthier and lengthier… and hopefully I can keep up with this story for a while. I-I don't know. When I reach about chapter 40ish, I tend to lose interest. Hopefully, that doesn't happen. I am liking this story, and there is a clear ending, to me. I just have to reach that end.
Maybe I should have a part two? But I tried that with another story… and that didn't exactly work out. Not that many people would read that second parter. That's why I haven't thought/discussed about doing that, until now. Maybe? But I'll have to say no? But the possibility of me losing interest rises when I see how many chapters I've written… It's a vicious cycle.
I'm more of a novel writer then a short story writer, anyways. I just suck at actually reaching the end.
Okay, I'm done ranting. I hope you guys are ENJOYING this story, so far. And, if you have any suggestions or 'scenes' you'd like to see, or moments with particular characters you want to see, then leave a COMMENT! I wouldn't mind adding in your suggestions, if I think it can add to the story… but yeah. I'll end this here. SEE Y'AH!
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
Watching my little assistant storm out of the room left me… a tad numb.
But mainly frustrated.
What did that little reaper think he was doing, coming in here and attempting to persuade my newly found assistant to leave. The nerve!
I couldn't talk to Clara, but the angry look was… nostalgic, but not in a good way. Recalling all the wrong I had done in the past, I quickly realized I needed to apologize, fast. At the very least, make things up to the poor girl.
But…
As I finally crept up the stairs, seeing the girl slumped on the couch, newly acquired sketchbook in hands, looking more frustrated then she did content and peaceful, I felt terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
But she didn't turn to acknowledge my presence. Glance to even notice that I was there or not. Instead, she crumbled up a piece of paper and threw it across the room, before flipping to the next page and roughly scribbling, again. Sure, I was curious. I'm always intrigued by the new little things the girl does, but the anger radiating out of her was…
Well, I suppose I'll do the smart thing and check on dinner, first.
I don't know how much time passed as I pretended to be working, before becoming fed up with myself and making some tea, pouring two cups, before calmly making my way to the living room… Only to see the girl with her head in her hands, her knees up to her chest, and… crying?
Was she crying?
"Oh dear," I mumbled, unsure how I should react to this.
But before I could wrap my arms around the girl, she slapped my hands away, snarling like an angry wolf, and glaring at me with dark, harsh blue eyes, which I swore was glowing green. Green with hate. Green… because she's a half reaper.
Of course.
Slowly I set the tea down, sitting down on the other side of the couch as I thought over what to say. If I should say anything… Yes, I'm going to have to talk. No matter how much I'd rather keep quiet. "… I heard most of the conversation you had with that boy. I would have walked into the parlor room to greet him, but he seemed more inclined to talk with you," I decided to begin, pausing, waiting… only to hear nothing. Just heavy, slightly rough breathing. "… Are you mad I didn't show my presence?"
"What I'm mad about," she began, her head lifting just slightly to glare over her knees, directed right at me, "is… that you overheard so much. That, you could have just said you were there and I would have introduced you. In fact, maybe I'm just mad that you think I wouldn't be mad that you were hiding. I don't know! I'm just mad, 'kay!" she yelled, but before she spoke another word, or I could respond as calmly as I could, she began to cry.
Again.
And cough, roughly.
"My lady, you need to calm down –"
"Shut up! Just, shut up! Don't fuckin call me a damn lady! You know nothing! –" but she covered her mouth with her hands, her legs slipping down from their bent position as she began to move rather sporadically.
Seeing the blood, spitting out of her mouth, I quickly rushed to her side. Anger be damned. She tried to shove me away, but I absolutely refused, taking the girl into my arms and shifting her on the couch, like a life sized doll, sitting her upright and holding my handkerchief to her lips. She took the clothe, coating it in her blood, and… I sat there.
Unsure.
This must be how boy Vincent feels whenever his lady love starts to cough in a similar manner.
Helpless.
Absolutely helpless.
But, I watched as she reached into one of her pockets, pulling out that plastic inhaler she was talking about, earlier, shaking the item, before popping open the lid and bringing the opened chamber to her blood coated lips. She inhaled, exhaled shakily, before inhaling again and pressing her finger on the top, and I could hear air hissing through the inhaler.
I paused, waiting patiently, but anxiously, as she continued to breathe heavily, repeating the process another time before handing me the inhaler as she laid back into the couch, closing her eyes and coughing lightly to herself. "… I'm sorry, Clara," I decided to speak, hoping my words were enough to prompt a response.
But all I heard was heavy breathing, her hand pressing against her chest as she tried to calm her shaky breathes for air.
"… You started talking about those reapers. Children, creatures you once knew. About your frustrations, the council… how you do not feel that you're doing what you desire," I decided to say, hoping my words were reaching the girl's ears as I gently took the hand that held my handkerchief, holding back the tears that desperately wanted to leave my eyes, but no. I will not cry over something like this.
No.
"You do not need to feel like I'm holding you back, Clara. You can leave. I will not stop you… I will even give you the traveling money to do so. You have paid me so much in laughter and company… the least I can do is –"
"Un… U-undertaker, just… just slow down," she sighed, coughing a bit, but not as roughly as she had been earlier, before she slowly brought her arm away from her face, her hand still on her chest as she began to look at me with an exhausted look adorning her face. "Who-oever said… I'm leaving?"
"You did, when you told that boy –"
"Y-you misunderstand," she stated, attempting to smile. I couldn't stop myself from smiling as well, but I felt weak. Emotionally drained. "I'm just… t-thinking. About e-every… thing. I didn't say I was… leaving," she sighed to herself, but I couldn't stop myself from looking at her, confused.
Surely that's what the girl meant. When she kept asking all those questions. About dreams and feeling unsatisfied.
Was it me? Did I do something wrong?
Maybe I shouldn't have… begun to enjoy this little arrangement. I shouldn't have assumed she was staying. Besides, she's right, humans die. They die… and there's nothing I can do to change that.
I assume…
"Though… here's the thing," she continued, causing my thoughts to pause as her eyes began to wander, her body moving as she groaned, sitting up in the couch and sighing exhaustingly to herself. "If we're going to continue this boss and assistant thing we have going… I need two questions answered, and if you cannot answer them honestly… I'm leaving," she stated, my breath momentarily hitching at her words.
Her tone, her seriousness… I hated it. Hated it all, but understood that the girl isn't exactly happy.
For some strange reason.
"My questions are… Why or how are you associated with the Phantomhives? Like, why does a reaper like yourself feel attached to my family? And don't say a good laugh… and, second, be honest, why did you leave the association? Don't say you retired, because even I know you could have done a multitude of other things if that were the case," she stated, her questions causing me to look her over and my eyes glazed over, but just slightly.
But what surprised me was when I felt a hand upon my cheek, suddenly swiping upward and brushing away most of my silver bangs, and I blink, confused…
Until I saw her eyes staring intently at mine. In that same way she stared at that boy, a moment ago.
Like… she was analyzing me…
Or… rather, she was reading my very soul. Looking for flaws…
Huh. Well, if I lie, she'll know. But…
Should I really tell her the truth? Because… she could still leave me… and then she'd know the horrible truth.
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
Your questions caused the Undertaker to stop talking. To sit there, staring at you, rather blankly, and you caused him to freeze the moment you swiped his bangs to the side. But, you don't care. You were determined. You needed to know.
Why he's paired with the Phantomhives, though you have never seen him or heard about him before. Why he left the reapers and won't go back to them. You just… need some honesty. Because…
He heard so much about you! About the past, your friends, your old life. That's all supposed to be a secret! How can you go forward if he holds most of your secrets, while you have nothing on him? This is starting to feel one sided and you hate it. Hate yourself for disclosing so much.
But more importantly, you're starting to feel a bit of self loathing, and obviously, your sour and exhausted mood is rubbing off on the Undertaker. He's like the complete opposite of the sorts of reapers you've had to deal with, and… it's nice. Refreshing, sure. You didn't have to try too hard and be yourself, but…
That's just the thing. You're not having to try hard. Life feels too easy. You need something exciting to keep you going, or at the very least a goal. Sitting around, doing nothing is bothering you. Making you feel antsy. And that just leads to too many thoughts, swimming around in your mind.
Terrible, terrible thoughts that can lead to horrible outcomes… for all parties involved.
"… To answer your latter question," he began, somberly, his eyes trying to avoid your own, but you narrowed your gaze, keeping your hands on his cheeks, determined to keep him from wandering away from your sights. "I was… fed up with the association, as you seemed to put it. The council, the higher ups… harvesting souls, that sort of thing. I was a bit of a troublemaker, back in my youth," he chuckled dryly, noticing you were barely phased by his giggles, "but… it reached a boiling point, one night… On my first attempt to escape," he continued, reaching for his scarred eye as you slowly began to back away, putting your hands upon your knees as you narrowed your gaze, barely giving him any sort of expression to register your thoughts as he spoke, "I was cut and bruised rather terribly. I was healed, but forced to do overtime… But my second attempt was a successful escape.
"That's why I hesitate to return. I'm sure those reapers are starting to catch on to where I am, but… Who knows what'll happen if I return. Praise, perhaps, because I was good at the craft, but that doesn't mean I enjoy reaping souls. That wasn't what I signed up for when I committed suicide," he told you, watching you carefully as you continued to stare and glare. He began to stare at you concerned. "… Lady Clara? Can you please say something?"
"… No one signs up to harvest souls, when they commit suicide. I get that," you responded, softly, slowly bringing your hand up to your face and brushing away a tear. You weren't quite sure if you were sad over his words or still angry, but… well, "but you could have just told me you couldn't give me the information I wanted. Don't you know how sad I was? How distort over the promises I ended up breaking, by being thrown back in time?... It hurts that you can't trust me, yet I say so much," you finished with a soft mumble, your hand reaching for your right eye. Sure, it still hurts. The pain of being clawed at by a demon, an essence of everything terrible in this existence, is painful, but… nothing hurts as much as your chest does.
But you flinched as you felt a finger upon your cheek, and a long black nail brushing a stray tear away. You gave him an unsure look, but you continued to stare, unsure of what you should say in response. "… Why do you care, then, about some humans? Reapers are supposed to emotionally detach themselves from humans. Forget about that emotional part of themselves. That's why… w-why… how can you care?" you decided to say, but you naturally flinched in response as you felt his finger on your chin, tilting your head upward to stare up into his gaze.
That… gaze…
Strangely hypnotic. You try to pretend that you cannot be phased, but… even you cannot pull your gaze away from Death itself.
Noticing that your eyes were starting to glaze over, as if you were falling into a strange trance, he abruptly took his hand away from you, almost making your head fall forward, and you flinched, rubbing your sore head and rubbing at your eyes. Damn, that hurt! Not physically, but your brain feels a bit jumbled up after that –
"The Phantomhives~… Oh, at first, I didn't much care for them. Sure, I'd get to watch their little shows from afar as they killed various people, for one reason or another, but I never felt… content. It was entertainment," he began, shifting away from you as he sat a bit more slumped into the couch. "The fact that your… family would force yourselves to become subservient to a monarchy that, mind you, sometimes did the wrong things, and you simply cleaned up and disposed of their messes…
"Considering each child seemed to hold some type of intelligence, I found it hard to comprehend. In fact, I kind of despised the mere idea of loyalty and nobility, considering it all a social ploy to keep the subjects in line… Regardless if you deserve their favors or not.
"It wasn't until I left the Dispatch and was on the run that I began to realize why," he decided to say, slowly taking your hands and placing them into his own. You watched as he rubbed the top of your hands with his thumbs, but he looked deep in thought. Reliving a past that, perhaps, he was never going to look back upon, but now that you've asked he had no other choice. "… I became close to the Phantomhives because of Countess Claudia, third born and the youngest, only girl, but in a silly twist of fate, her entire family was killed. Except for some distant relatives, an aunt and uncle that lived in Wales. She spent her childhood years there, before taking the position her father once held.
"She had such… a grace to her. I suppose that's the best way to describe it," he chuckled lowly to himself as he remembered the past, tilting his head slightly as he continued to rub your hands, stretching out your hands slightly as he rubbed his thumbs against your knuckles, noticing the callus… the blemishes. Everything that made your hands seem… broken. Bruised. "She came to my shop, one day, and at the time I wasn't getting much business. Most of the guests went to other undertakers across London, and I simply got the forgotten ones. Deaths no one seemed to take any notice over…
"And that's why she stopped by. When I became curious and began to refuse her request, she pointed her royal seal in my face. As if it'd cause me to move," he snickered, pausing as he stared at your hands with such intensity, you wondered if something was wrong with your hands. Maybe you should be investing in hand cream, or something like that. "No, no, all I asked was for some laughter… and I giggled at the shocked look on her face! The entire time, strict and stern, only to break her composure for that one moment in time.
"It was euphoric. Terribly enjoyable. To finally see someone crack, oh my! I couldn't contain my excitement," he giggled happily to himself, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling, slightly. Lightly. His giggles are contagious, after all, and even you cannot stop yourself from smiling, in return. "… After that, I gave her the information, as requested, and then she came by the next day… and three days after that… and that's why I'm an informant," he finished, but before he could drift away, you flipped your hands, reaching for his wrists, and suddenly you tugged him forward, slightly, getting his attention while you also became rather entranced by how your hands were intertwined with his.
How pale the man's hands are… and how boney… the long black nails seem to… suit him. While your own hands were pink, whitish pink and a tad pale, yours were so full of life, compared to his own fingers. Like a strange harmony between Death and Life. The dead and the living.
"Is Vincent your son?" you had to ask, not looking at his face to see his reaction, but you could tell by the slight tug on your own hands that you startled him.
But then he began to chuckle rather dryly. "As far as the boy knows, of course not. And his sister, no. Never… But now, I see my lady in almost every Phantomhive I see. The boy, his sister, and now… you," he scoffed to himself, and you could feel his grip on your hands tighten slightly as he frowned. "It hasn't even been fifteen years… Is this what you humans call heartache?" he decided to ask, but slowly you slipped your hands away from his own, only to lean forward and grab him in a tight hug.
You could tell he was startled. Probably shocked, but you didn't care. You sat there, leaning, hugging the man as you slumped your head into his shoulder, listening to your heavy breathing as you tried to keep yourself calm and collected, while he seemed to have lost his breath entirely. You didn't move until you could feel his arms wrap around you, slightly, giving you a hesitant hug in return, but then you began your tale. "So… my father, he told me the only reason why he gave a damn about procreating with my mother was because of my blood.
"My older brother… told me the reason was because… at some point, my blood mixed with that of a grim reaper's. So, in a way, I'm more death then I am living," you told him, pausing for a moment before sighing tiredly against his strangely warm shoulder. "My father was… is, I suppose, an ass. I hate him. You should never hate a father, but I hate mine… He left me to die. To be clawed at by devils and demons alike… a-and… I had to fight to stay alive. Then, he expected me to be his daughter… If my brother never showed up I-I don't think I could take it.
"I saw how hollow everything is. You have to suppress your emotions, yet you have them. You feel pain when you reap an innocent soul that had a lot to live for, anger that the guilty get to live on… I became… so angry, all the time. What kept me from committing suicide and simply giving up was two things: my anger and determination to prove to my father that I'm not some weak human girl, and… the realization that… if I did give into my urge to be with Death, another child would be born, forced to do the exact same things I do. The same things my brother did… It would be an endless cycle of pain and abuse.
"And… Claudia," you chuckled dryly to yourself, suddenly pulling yourself away from the man as you wiped away a tear; your need to see his reaction enough to make you look at him in the face, again. "This is… strangely ironic, if I'm being honest. Maybe I'm really meant to be here," you decided to say, and as you noticed the confused stare he was giving you, you simply smiled lightly in reply.
You reached for his large mortician top hat, slipping it off of his head, and you placed it onto the coffee table before turning back to look at him, smiling lightly at the uncertainty on his face. His confusion made you snicker in delight, and while your own happiness was a tad forced, you couldn't stop yourself. Seeing a reaper so dumbfounded was enjoyable, to say the least. "… What I'm going to say," you began, sighing as you began to compose yourself again and the smile began to leave your face, only leaving a thin, curled line in its wake, "it… isn't something I talk about, very often. In fact, I think only Michael and Rosie know about this. Everyone else…
"Would think I'm insane or psychotic. That I'm seeing things, but I assure you, it's quite the opposite," you sighed, tiredly, waiting for your words to set in before you looked up and gave him a weak smile.
"So… between the moment my mother died and after I was sent to an orphanage, demons snatched me away. Used me as a living, breathing blood bag. When I got to 'banging age', as one of them put it, they were going to use me as a sex toy, too," you spoke, pausing for a moment. You could tell the man was angry. No, wrathful. But as his eyes glowed, angerly, at nothing in particular, you grabbed the side of his face, forcing his gaze to return to you as you continued in a tired, weak tone. "Through all of that, I wanted to kill myself. End the misery and torment, but something in the back of my head kept telling me to fight this.
"Perhaps it was my subconscious. Maybe it was an imaginary friend I made up so I wouldn't completely lose it, but I named her Claudia," you stated, pausing, noticing the slightly shocked look on his face as you continued with a sad smile. "She was… like this older version I wanted to be. Poised, proper, very sassy, but mostly confident. I always believed she was my confident side," you chuckled dryly before you slowly sat back, exhausted, but you still wanted to finish your little story. "Anyways, she insisted that I called her 'lady' or Lady Claudia. That's kind of why I hate being called lady, all the time. It reminds me of her," you told him, letting your words sink in as you caught your breath, closing your eyes tightly at the memories.
You hated telling this story, but for a reaper, it's something you need to say. Can say. They can understand… humans would just think you've become psychotic. Crazy. That you need to be thrown into a mental institution. Considering most don't believe in demons… or don't want to believe demons exist.
"So," he spoke, his words causing your eyes to open as you gave him a curious look, "what happened?"
"Long story short, after a lot of pain and abuse, maybe more mental than physical, I got fed up. I got my hands on something sharp, began to stab at myself, trying to kill myself," you told him, waiting for a moment before continuing. "I was about… six? Seven? Anyways, as I was doing that, I stopped. I momentarily lost sight of what I was doing, what was happening, but when I came to… My captors laid dead at my feet, their blood all over me, and then I heard Claudia say:
"'Run.'
"I ran and ran. I had no idea where I was, but I ran… Somehow, I found in a graveyard, of all things, ended up talking to the inhabitants, and got myself transported to the human world, somehow. T-the memory is very fuzzy," you told him, "but the point is, I… woke up."
"… Woke up?" he questioned you, but you shrugged your shoulders in response.
"Before that moment, I was just a human girl, who attracted unwanted attention wherever she went. I was a walking curse that caused the death of my mother, caused more… creatures to come after me with the intent on eating me… and I was worthless. Nothing," you stated, before continuing with a cold, tired sigh. "But, after that, I felt time times stronger. More active, fit, confident… Somehow, all that pain and suffering woke that reaper side of myself I never thought existed. Never knew existed," you scoffed at the thought. "… And after that, Claudia continued to whisper into my ear, giving me advice on what to do and how to handle things. The wise voice in a sea of… confusion and uncertainty.
"Eventually, my father popped into the picture. Told me who he was, why he was here, that he wanted me… I was scared, wanted a place to belong, so I never questioned it until it was much older. Still… after I came to terms with everything, after he died, I-I… realized I was being used. Again," you sighed, your hand plopping onto your face as you rubbed your tired, sore face.
"The thing is… after I was thrown back in time, after I woke up here… the voices of the dead, that extra power boost… I-I… can't feel it anymore," you admitted, a bit hesitantly, but you admitted the truth. The truth you never wanted to say, but here you are, saying a secret you never wanted to tell another soul.
Again.
To him, of all creatures.
"Something… someone locked that part of me away… Maybe I did that, and I could tell Rosie noticed," you chuckled dryly. "That's why she wants me to be human. Live a human life. This is my chance to do just that… Let the dead rest. Let my mind be at peace… It's just, I-I don't know. I miss that part of myself. My reaper half. I had heightened abilities, could sense danger approaching… I could always tell when something was going to die, but I could never outright figure out how powerful a creature is. Just that they're around.
"That demons and devils are around. Angels exist. That the dead roam amongst the living, at times, if they cannot find their peace… And, well, I guess what I'm trying to say is… I don't know who I am, anymore," you told him, sadly, sighing deeply, once more, and you could feel your tears starting to drip out of your eyes, again. You're just so exhausted. "I-I don't know what you see in humans, Undertaker, but we're broken, fragile creatures that can break at any moment. I-I just… wish I could lie down in a hole and die," you told him, sniffling as you began to cry, again. This time, it was because of you. Because of your own weaknesses.
That you're just a weak, fragile human that can't do a damn thing right, anymore. "You must hate me," you mumbled lowly, sniffling as you wiped at your nose and your face, trying to stop yourself from crying, again. You didn't need another attack, but at this point you are just going to have to cry. "I… just take and take… I haven't given much back. I-I'm sorry –"
"Stop," he spoke, wrapping his arms around your body, tugging your body forward and forcing your figure to slump into his chest.
You didn't realize how broad his chest actually is… or how strangely muscular he is. Does the man work out? Or does his body take longer to age, perhaps?
"What is… amazing is how resilient the human soul can be, if they have just a little bit of hope," he began, his words confusing you slightly, but he continued, his hand beginning to stroke the top of your head. "Milady Claudia's hope was her own loyalty to the crown… that she was doing the right thing, even if it was painful, at times, enjoyable, at others. She was no fool. Sometimes she was offing a good man, other times a terrible one, but she did her duty. Her duty kept her grounded. Kept her from losing herself to the pain.
"To hear all this… I'm sorry," he responded, but you shook your head.
"None of this is your fault –"
"If I had never met Claudia, never ran away, never had children with her and mixed my blood with that of the humans, your bloodline would have never been picked…"
"… I wouldn't have been born, though," you told him, causing him to flinch in response. You could feel his muscles tighten, but you continued somberly, "so… should you apologize?
"Besides," you continued dryly, too exhausted to care about how your words and tone of voice sounded, anymore, but you wanted to say this, "if you could love, that just shows a reaper can have emotions… and that's just wonderful," you finished with a mumble, your head slumping comfortably against his clothes as you let your body relax.
You could feel his heart beating rapidly, thumping against his ribcage, even with the layers of scratchy clothes he was wearing. You could feel his arms lifting a bit higher, tugging your body forward a bit more so you were slumped a bit more comfortably against him, his own body relaxing, just a tad. Your tired, relieved sigh was enough to calm the man's nerves. You could sense that his soul was calm, for what felt like a long time.
"… I was just mad that you overheard things… That you'd want to throw me out. I just… am not sure what I want to do, anymore. That's all," you finished, finally, your eyes closing as you let in a deep breath.
You could smell his musky scent, with an interesting mix of sugar and sweetness. This was…
Nice.
And you weren't sure when you fell asleep, but you left your lips open, breathing in the air as you tried to keep yourself from fading away. This was… exhausting, both physically and emotionally, but…
Well… he knows the truth.
You wonder… what'll happen? Does he think you're crazy? W-what now?