Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part One)

AN: Possibly triggering content/unpleasant material in this chapter (child abuse, references to sexual abuse, violence). It's an Alois-centric chapter so sorry if you're not keen on him, this'll probably bore your socks off. Your regularly scheduled Ciel worship returns next chapter.

Unrelated but massive apology to anyone whose reviews I haven't replied to for the last two chapters. I've tried my best since chapter one to always reply to reviews - the least I can do after you guys take the time to leave them, after all - but between uni and trying to get the new chapters done in a reasonable time frame, I completely dropped the ball. I've tried to catch up just now but I'm 1000000 percent sure I've missed people out, so I'm sorry! Gonna be better about it from now on, pinkie promise I read and blush over every one~

It had gotten colder over the last few days. Even inside the building, the air was frigid. What little heating they were given was fighting a losing battle. It was worse inside the bathroom. The cold tiled floor, all the porcelain fixtures, that cool white colour. It stole all the warmth away, leaving Alois to burrow deeper into his blanket, sat huddled against the wall.

His bed would be warmer. It was already late, or rather, so late it was early. His eyelids drooped as his body teased him with a promise of sleep it hadn't made good on for almost three days.

He gets angry over the smallest things.

The journal was falling apart in his hands these days. Between his own outburst, his carelessness when hiding it, and its more frequent use, there was not a page that didn't have a tear on it somewhere. The spine had snapped a while ago. The pages were being held in with an elastic band around the middle. The leather on the cover was hanging off at the sides.

It had been a beautiful gift. It may have stayed that way if it had been given to anybody else but him.

But his voice sounds wrong when he's angry.

Alois had already filled all of the pages of the journal, front and back. Whatever he had written, he could no longer read, as his new notes were scrawled over the old ones. At least no one else would be able to read them either.

It sounds too old for him. And too angry. Luka never knew anger like that.

The words were so small that his hand ached keeping the movements of the pen so tight. He liked to think that he was saving ink by writing so small. He was afraid to run out of ink. If he did, his thoughts would have nowhere else to go, and he certainly didn't want them to stay inside of him.

Others keep trying to talk to me. Soma and Joker. I don't understand why they won't leave me alone now, but Luka doesn't like it. He says they're making fun of me. It makes him mad.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. The smallest little knock, from a hand too small to be anyone else. Alois ignored it.

I wish it made me mad. I don't understand why it doesn't. Soma used to hate me. Why is he being so nice to me now? Maybe Luka is right. I can't think of any other reason.

The knock came again. Louder now. More impatient. Alois still ignored it, even if he flinched at every little thump on the wood.

Luka says that they're trying to take him away from me. But he says that about everybody. I don't think he wants me to have friends. But they're not my friends anyway. So why are they bothering?

It was less of a knock and more of a slam now. The pen fell from Alois' hand when a voice followed it.

'Jim, why won't you let me in?'

That was Luka's voice, without the distortion of anger it so often had these days. He sounded on the verge of tears and Alois wavered. It was a trick, he knew, but it was a trick that was working. Even with the knowledge that as soon as he opened the door and let him in, Luka would be spitting venom at him, Alois still felt compelled to do so.

He bit down on that urge, that big brother's instinct to make the tears stop before they could start, and picked up his pen again.

If Luka really wanted to come in, he didn't need Alois to open the door anyway.

I want to ask Claude. He always used to explain these things to me. I don't understand people and their motives, but he does. But what if he talks to them and they say something bad about me? He knows Luka's name. I told him everything. If they heard me say it, he'll know.

'Jiiiiiiiim, please let me in.' A whine that threatened to become a tantrum any second now. Alois could picture him stood outside of the door, cheeks puffed out in annoyance, bottom lip trembling, maybe a bit too exaggerated to be genuine. But the reddening face and shining eyes would be genuine enough, nothing fake about the confusion and hurt of being locked out from the safe place, from the only person he was safe with.

Alois' hand shook around the pen, his grip so tight it was leaving a deep indent on his fingers.

Claude can't know. This would be the final straw. He'd wash his hands of me completely.

The pen fell to the floor as Alois darted over, letting Luka in with a rush of apologies. He chose to ignore that Luka looked nothing like he had imagined he would. There were no tears, no red cheeks, no trembling bottom lip. He looked normal, but he looked like nothing at all too. Alois chose not to see that, chose not to look too closely at all.

Once he started seeing the flaws, everything would unravel.

It was a haphazard mixture of happiness, fear and wilful ignorance. Those were the three pillars that Alois' current existence depended on.

The happiness, when it was there, cast out all the bad things. The loneliness was gone because he had Luka. The jealousy was tempered down because, even if Ciel and Claude had come together in a way Alois could only have dreamed of, at least he still had Luka, and they would never be able to take him away. The nightmares that still hung at the edges of his dreams, the perhaps unintentional ostracising from the rest of the patients, the treatments that left him reeling and weak. Even the guilt that had set its roots deep within him, somewhere even he couldn't reach, even that faded away when the happiness was there.

The happiness made it all worth it, until it disappeared without the smallest of warnings.

Then there was the fear. The fear came when Alois woke in the mornings to find himself alone once again. The fear came when someone noticed him looking into thin air and frowned thoughtfully. The fear grew when Luka twisted into something unrecognizable, something bitter and resentful and all too familiar. The fear was strongest when Luka tried to get him to do things. To shout, to hit, to hurt.

It was hard to remember he had ever been happy about Luka's return when the fear was at its strongest.

And then the wilful ignorance. That was actually the easiest part. All it required was looking away from things he didn't want to see, and Alois was well-practised in that, had been doing just that for years upon years. When Luka's voice took on a different sound, he pretended not to hear. When Luka's eyes looked more blue than brown, Alois shut his own. When Luka disappeared right when Alois was going to hug him or stroke his hair or try to give any sort of affection, Alois pretended there was no link between the two things.

These were the pillars sustaining Alois, but as the days crawled by, those pillars began to weaken, to crumble, to fall.

When Alois had first met Claude, he wasn't Alois yet. That name came a while later, following the mistake, the very bad thing, and the pathetic excuse for a funeral. Bad things came in threes, after all, and in Alois' case, they had only made way for even worse things to develop.

But before the bad things came one year. The good year. The year when Alois had not yet become Alois, and the year when his saviour appeared.

At first, his saviour seemed just like every other adult Jim had ever known. Greedy and self-serving, full of double-edged words and dubious intentions, with wandering eyes and wandering hands. He appeared as the adults always did. Welcomed like a saint through the doors of the care home, the other adults plying them with compliments and funny anecdotes about their least favourite children, the ones they were only too happy to part with. And just like all the other adults, Jim's saviour had nodded, laughed at the right times, assessed the children with a critical eye.

And so Jim had disappeared with Luka. They went to their secret place where they didn't have a bedtime or unwelcome midnight visitors. Here, they could play for as long as they wanted. There was no one there to stop them.

They stayed there for three days. By the end of the first, Luka was asking questions.

'Why aren't we going back yet?'

'I'm hungry, can we go back now?'

'Jim, we're gonna get in trouble, can we please go back?'

Jim ignored each and every one. Even he couldn't understand his own worry. The man hadn't looked at him twice yet he was oddly sure of his interest anyway. He had the same quality as the Trancy man did when he came to the home. He may have been younger, cleaner, better at wearing humanity, but the two were the same nonetheless, Jim was sure of it.

But hunger got the better of them. It was mercilessly cold in the den. Luka's patience ran out by the third day. With or without Jim, he was going back to the home. Unable to justify just why that was the worst thing they could do, Jim gave in, following Luka back with his tail between his legs.

The man was gone. After a brutal telling-off, with more bruises than words, things returned to normal, for the time being.

Not that normal was good. Normal was neglect; being left until the pangs of hunger robbed your legs of all their strength, until the stench of you was so strong people in the street would stare. Normal was the wrong kind of attention; potential adoptees with no love in their hearts, with too much money in their wallets and a mind to make more.

Child trafficking was as much a business as any other, after all.

But normal was the lives they led, so Jim resumed the daily grind, little thought of that man in his mind. There were other men to think of, and women too. Women could be just as vile as men, even if they hid it better, their maternal smiles the cruellest trick of all.

Jim didn't draw much interest, fortunately, so he avoided the worst of the guests. The same was true of Luka. While his younger age was a good commodity, he did not have so extraordinary a face as to draw in the higher bidders. But between the two of them, they had secured the interest of a wealthy man, by the name of Trancy. They had yet to be handed over, Trancy bartering the price down and dithering over the formalities, but it was known throughout the home that Jim and Luka were no longer free children.

They made the most of the time they had left. They spent more time in the den than in the home. They avoided returning as much as possible, to the point of begging for food in the town square. Jim learned what it was to be ignored on those days. He was never more invisible than when he was asking for help.

Though there was one woman. She would stop whenever she passed. She wouldn't give them money, but she would disappear for a while, then return with food. She didn't say anything to them, just handed them the food and left, but they didn't need her words to come to love her.

'I want to live with her,' Luka would say, more sad than happy after her visits. That retreating back seemed miles away.

Jim just kept silent. There was something about her, a gleam in those odd purple eyes that he just couldn't bring himself to trust.

By the time that man came again, Jim had forgotten all about him.

Another Wednesday, another group session in the leisure room. The tone was decidedly different from its usual energetic one. There was no banter, no half-hearted insults and catty jokes bandying back and forth. Silence reigned over the group, even Joker sitting tight-lipped.

Grey stopped chewing on the end of his pen, pulling it out of his mouth with a grimace.

'Christ. Who died?' he asked, glancing around at the stony faces looking back at him.

A beat of silence, and then he laughed riotously at his own joke.

Phipps just rolled his eyes, doodling little flowers on his clipboard.

'Come oooooooon, it's not like it's anyone you even knew. Cheer up!' Grey was smiling happily enough for the rest of them, his own good cheer not touched in the slightest.

At least until no one responded. No one even gave him the usual dirty look.

His mood quickly soured when he didn't get the response he wanted.

'Fine, be that way. Miserable, the lot of you.' Grey sighed, sinking lower in his chair. His boredom seemed to permeate them all, infecting them with a restlessness they couldn't do anything about even if they wanted to. 'Let's just get this over with then. Go round the circle, starting with you, and tell me one good thing about your week and one bad thing. And at least try to make it interesting, please.'

Poor Dagger was the chosen one. All he could muster was that it had gotten a bit warmer but that it was still really cold. He was rewarded by Grey blowing a raspberry in his general direction.

No one else managed much better.

Alois struggled to think of something he could say when he heard a low, frustrated noise from Luka, sat on the floor beside his chair. Unable to actually ask him, Alois gave him a questioning glance.

'He's staring at me again,' Luka growled, eyes narrowed across the circle.

Alois didn't even have to look to know who Luka was talking about.

No, he's not, Alois thought, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Luka would hear and reply as normally as if he had spoken out loud, He doesn't look at us anymore.

'Yes, he is,' Luka replied, something nasty about the way his lip was twisting down at the sides, 'He's staring at me. Make him stop.'

Alois found himself looking over then. True enough, Ciel was looking in their direction, but his eye was glazed over with a sightless sheen. He was miles away.

He's daydreaming, Alois said, We're just sat across from him, that's all.

'No, he's watching me!' Luka was starting to shout now, or maybe he had been shouting the whole time. Alois wasn't sure. But the voice began to sound too deep, so Alois pretended not to hear it at all. 'Don't ignore me.' Deeper still, angrier now. It shouldn't have been frightening, not from a boy no older than eight, but such succinct words managed to carry a lot of threat.

Worse still was the knowledge that the threat wasn't to him at all.

Just don't pay any attention to him. If you just ignore him, he won't bother you, Alois replied, something almost like a plea about the words

Fortunately, Ciel's turn came up and he was pulled back into the room. He just shrugged at the question, impervious to Grey's goading response, as unruffled as ever.

'They're not even making him answer,' Luka said, distracting Alois, 'Everyone's little favourite, isn't he? If you tried that, they'd make you regret it, but not him.'

Luka had stood up beside Alois' chair. He was little more than half Alois' size yet he seemed to loom over him now. His little hands were curled into fists.

Please leave it alone, Alois was outright pleading now, an exhaustion he hadn't noticed until then making itself known, Please.

'It's like he thinks he owns this place. It and everyone in it. He just takes his pick from everyone, whoever he feels like paying attention to that day, and we all just go with it. Doesn't it make you sick?' Luka strode across the circle, each step slow and careful, a predator's stalk. For a moment, Alois almost expected Ciel to look up, to see his soon to be attacker, and it wasn't until he felt that crushing disappointment that he realised that was what he wanted more than anything. For someone, anyone, to see what was happening.

'Trancyyyyyyy.'

'He doesn't deserve any of it,' Luka spat, face twisted beyond recognition. Alois couldn't look too closely at it in fear of finding recognition though. It was a certainty that if he did, there was no coming back. 'It's his fault, Jim. He took what was ours. It's his fault we're still here, still like this.'

Shut up, Alois thought, implored. But Luka wouldn't listen. He was standing in front of Ciel now, little fists trembling in an anger Alois found baffling. Shut up!

'Oi, nutcase.'

'If he weren't here, everything would get better, Jim. You know it's true. If he weren't here, Claude would look at me again, love me again -'

'Shut up!' Alois yelled, nails cutting into the flesh of his palms.

And then Luka wasn't there anymore. It was him stood over Ciel, him glaring down with spite, him the entire circle was looking at with trepidation. Ciel was looking up at him, stock still in his seat, something more than surprise on his face.

Alois was breathing heavily. A chill ran through him as he came back to himself, turning to look at his own empty chair with confusion. When had he moved?

Joker slowly rose to his feet.

The chill turned to fear.

'Sit down, Alois,' Ciel said softly, gesturing Joker back. Even so, Joker was watching Alois carefully, knowingly. This wasn't the first time he had seen Alois lose it recently. Neither was this the first time Alois had erupted like this. Ciel couldn't spare another eye. 'Just sit down.'

Alois tried to find a hint of what Ciel was thinking on his face, but as always, he was a closed book to him. How much of Luka's words did everyone hear? Or was it just Alois' own outburst that bled through? He couldn't tell.

'Sit down,' Ciel repeated, turning to steel. It was starting to sound like an order.

Feeling like the circle was closing in, even though no-one else had moved, Alois fled to his bedroom.

The second time Alois met Claude, he was no closer to becoming Alois.

Enough time had passed that Jim barely recognised the man. Whatever uneasiness he had felt back then, it wasn't so special a thing that it had a place in his memories. Everything seemed important in the moment, after all, and while it would have been idealistically romantic to say otherwise, Jim didn't give the man a second glance as he sprinted past him in the hallway.

Angry voices followed him, only fueling his escape.

It wasn't me!

He couldn't say that. If he did, it would be throwing Luka to the wolves. But still, the unfairness of it all boiled over within him. It seemed that he did wrong even when he was doing right. Weeks of good behaviour down the drain because of Luka's clumsiness.

Still, that nasty old bastard had it coming. Going for Luka like that, didn't he know they were already claimed?

Jim hadn't poured the hot tea over the pervert's lap. Luka had spilled it, the kettle just that bit too heavy for his small hands. But whether it was an accident or not, the man didn't care, that roar of pain and anger too familiar to them all. Just seeing the colour drain from Luka's face like that had been too much for Jim. Throwing his weeks of good work down the drain, he had shoved Luka behind him, playing at apologetic.

The children were interchangeable to men like him. He didn't notice it was a different boy than the one who had been tending his table.

The crack across the face had made stars burst to life behind Jim's eyelids. The blood rushing in his ears was all the sound he could hear. He didn't even feel himself fall to the floor, just noticed he was there after the daze passed, when the world came rushing back to him.

Later, he would blame the smack. It had knocked him a bit senseless, he would claim, made him forget his place for a moment.

They wouldn't accept that excuse but that wouldn't heal the nasty, deep gouges Jim left across the old man's face. He hadn't been aiming for the man's eye but it was satisfying to feel his nails rake across it nonetheless. Even more satisfying was his howl, more surprise than anything.

Men like him never expected to be hurt in turn.

The momentary senselessness left him as quickly as it had came, just in time for the handlers to begin screaming at him, running at him with intent. Harming a client was unheard of. The punishment for it was beyond imagining.

So Jim ran, and didn't stop running until he reached the den, the only safe place.

He deserved it, Jim repeated over and over, mouth closed tight against a sob. The man's blood was dried beneath his fingernails, itchy and uncomfortable. He hit me first.

His cheek had swollen. It throbbed with a red hot pulse, a tender cut inside his mouth that his tongue kept seeking out. The bruise would be immense. No doubt he'd be punished for that too. They hated it when the children's faces were damaged. Hopefully Trancy wouldn't visit until the bruise was gone.

Jim hoped Luka was alright. What he had done would no doubt overshadow Luka's accident, but even so, he was worried. Not worried enough to return though. Just the thought of going back made his stomach twist nauseously.

There was a rustling outside the den.

Jim's mood lifted, 'Luka?'

The door of the decrepit old shed was pushed open carefully, as though the person was unsure the hinges would hold. Just seeing that had Jim curling up into himself, nausea intensifying.

An adult walked in, eyeing the den. He gave the whole thing a once-over before even acknowledging Jim, and still, he was more interested in wiping his hands clean on his trousers.

It was the eyes that struck Jim. A horrible colour, narrow like a cat's. More than anything, they were cold.

'That was quite a scene,' the man said, towering over Jim. He wasn't dressed like a rich man. Clients of the home usually wore their wealth proudly. If this man had any wealth to speak of, he was keeping quiet about it. A plain grey jumper, dark pants, no embellishments to speak of. It all looked cheap. Threadbare, even. But there was a richness in his voice, a quiet sort of importance that only people with money or power ever seemed to have.

It wasn't that Jim felt there was a danger from the man. What danger could the man pose that wasn't always a hanging threat anyway? But he was a client of the home, and right now, Jim was vulnerable. It was the biggest mistake he could make to let a client see him vulnerable.

Shoving away how unbalanced the man's sudden appearance had made him, Jim swiped his sleeve along his face, getting rid of any tears. Even though it made his cheek ache with a renewed vigour, he trained his face into a more neutral expression, not a hint of anything there for the man to see, to use.

With a flippancy he didn't feel, Jim said, 'We like to put on a good show.'

The man didn't crack a smile but Jim got the impression he was amused nonetheless.

Swiping his foot along the floor and eyeing the dust it kicked up, he crouched down to be on level with Jim, though careful not to actually sit on the dirty ground of the shed. He extended his hand and it was the first Jim noticed that he was holding something.

'That's awfully nasty,' the man observed, eyeing the purpling swell of Jim's cheek, 'Though I think the other person came out of it worse.'

It sounded like a compliment.

'You shouldn't hit if you don't want to get hit back,' Jim said, false bluster growing by the minute. He snatched the little cold compress. It was already softening, what little ice it had inside melting, but the relief when he pressed it against his cheek was without comparison.

'True,' the man replied. He stood up now that Jim had accepted his offering, moved away a distance. It was a while before he said anything again, and when he did, he didn't look back over at him. 'Your friend told me where to go. He was very upset. But I wouldn't worry, if I were you. They're more concerned with placating your victim than with finding you. I doubt they're looking very hard.'

Jim waited for him to say more before he even thought about replying. Though it hurt his cheek to do so, he smirked.

'You're a liar. Luka wouldn't tell anyone about this place. You followed me here yourself.'

The man turned to look at him then. Again, Jim got that odd feeling that he was amused, as though he were smiling without actually smiling. Yet it wasn't an unpleasant thing, that sort of attention.

'Alright,' the man didn't even try to deny it, 'In future, I might suggest making a detour when you're running away, especially if you think people may be following you.'

The cold compress had left Jim's hand slick with water, more warm than cold now. He dropped his hand from his cheek, dropped the now useless compress to the floor. He really didn't know how to take this man.

'Why are you here?' It was said with more aggression than Jim actually felt. Jim often found himself letting things like aggression and anger and violence bleed out without even realizing he was feeling them at all. Sometimes he only knew himself when he let other people know him.

'Because I thought you'd be crying,' the man said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, 'I can't leave a child alone when they might be crying.'

Jim didn't know how to take that. Jim didn't understand this man at all.

'I'm not crying,' he said, more defensively than intended.

The man could have pointed out his red-rimmed eyes, or the telling little stains on his cheeks, but instead, he just nodded and said, 'Good.'

Jim didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. But he couldn't bring himself to look away from the discarded cold compress on the floor. His cheek didn't hurt nearly as badly now. Where had the man even gotten that from? They didn't have things like that in the home. If he had followed Jim straight away then why had he taken so long to appear? Could he have made a diversion to get the compress, especially for Jim?

I can't leave a child alone when they might be crying.

He was a liar. There was a real reason why he had followed Jim down, why he had chosen to give Jim something to ease the pain. There was an ulterior motive and it had nothing to do with caring or being kind or having a shred of compassion in him. The sort of people who came to the home had no compassion in their souls, no kindness in their hearts.

Even if Jim couldn't figure out what the real reason was, he knew the man was lying. He had to be.

For an hour, and then two, and almost to three, the two of them remained in the shed, completely silent and not acknowledging each other's presence at all. Not to say they weren't aware of each other. Jim, at least, was very aware of the man. He kept waiting for the man to start talking again, to tell more lies, or to make a move towards him. They were alone, after all, and no one was around to hear.

But the only move the man made was to open the shed door. The only words he said were to ask Jim if he was ready to return to the home.

Unable to put it off any longer, Jim nodded, following the man out of the den and back towards the care home.

Unsurprisingly, the welcome back was not a warm one. As soon as the manager saw Jim, his steps took on a predatory nature, his hands curling into claws. At least until he saw who Jim was with. Then he froze, not so much the predator anymore as he was the prey.

'Mr. Faustus. We thought you'd left.' Jim had never heard the manager sound so sheepish. It was quite thrilling, to see him cower. Jim felt almost powerful for a moment, forgetting that the man was stood beside him, that it wasn't Jim's presence that brought the manager up short.

'No, just went for a wander,' the man replied. There was a dismissive quality to the response. He was paying more attention to Jim than to the manager. 'After that display earlier, I needed a breath of fresh air.'

The manager's confidence returned to him.

'Yes. I cannot apologise enough. I assure you, appropriate punishment will be -'

'Civilised men acting like infants,' the man cut across, shaking his head while looking at Jim. It felt like being inside on a joke, like being included in the laugh rather than being the target. It felt good. 'A bit of spilt tea and all hell breaks loose. What kind of establishment are you running here?'

The manager was speechless, a rare sight. Jim didn't realise he was grinning until the man gave a small smile back, the first time he had seen him smile. Immediately, Jim composed himself, wiped clean the grin. Idiot, don't let him see you fall for his tricks. After all these years, he was angry at himself for still being so susceptible to even the smallest of gestures.

But still, he filed away the memory of that first smile, however unconsciously. It was the first time someone other than Luka had seemed happy because of him.

'I ... can only apologise,' the manager responded weakly, obviously uncertain of how to act. The man must have been much more affluent than he appeared, to have that grisly manager so compliant.

'All this talk of punishments, it worries me. Look at the damage that brute already did,' the man gestured to Jim's mottled cheek, careful not to actually touch, 'I want an assurance that no more harm will be done to the boy. Consider this an expression of interest.'

An expression of interest. A guarantee of safety. Through just one sentence, Jim was promised protection. He stared at the man, bewildered. The manager shared that bewilderment.

'Mr. Faustus, this boy ... he's already spoken for. A deal is in the talks as we speak.'

Hating himself for it, a spark of hope began to burn in Jim's heart. This was the first moment in which the word saviour crossed his mind, became indelibly attached to that man. Perhaps that was the first mistake.

'And I'm joining those talks. Go on, go tell the Chairman, have the matter brought to his attention immediately.'

Like a collared mutt, the manager turned heel and departed, a haste in him to follow those orders immediately. That left just the two of them in the corridor, Jim still staring up at the man in bewilderment.

'What're you doing?' he asked, a bite to the words. His confusion was mutating into anger somewhere between his brain and his mouth. He didn't mean to sound so angry. He couldn't take it back and risk losing face, though.

'Like I said, I can't just leave a crying child alone,' the man replied.

Jim didn't deny it this time. Instead, he turned to face the man, expression contorting with the anger he didn't want to have.

'Every kid in this building is crying. What about them?'

And just as simply as before, as though there was no plainer a fact in the world, the man said, 'But I didn't see them. I only saw you.'

Luka was relentless.

'Why did you leave?!'

'Coward, coward, coward!'

'This is why he won't look at you anymore, Jim.'

'You're pathetic.'

Alois huddled tighter, forehead against his knees. His hands wouldn't stop trembling.

'Please stop.' There were no tears. A dry, exhausted plea. 'Please.'

Luka seemed so much bigger than Alois knew him to be. That tiny boy loomed over him, blocked out all the light. His voice was like a boom of thunder. There was no keeping it out, no matter how tightly Alois clenched his hands over his ears.

'Did you see his face?' It was abruptly not a shout. Conversational, almost. Mocking. 'Your so-called friend, not a bit worried. He just wanted you to get away from him.'

Luka's voice was at his ear now, but when Alois turned to look, his brother was nowhere to be seen. Still, the voice spoke.

'You thought you were special, didn't you?' It said, spite in every syllable, 'It was different from Claude. 'Cause he didn't like anybody, didn't bother with anybody. But he bothered with you, even after you attacked him -'

'I didn't mean to,' Alois objected weakly, but it was lost amidst the torrent of Luka's accusations.

'Even after you hurt him and Claude stopped loving you. He still saw you. It made you think you were special,' Luka laughed the word. That alone made Alois feel two times as small, as insignificant, 'But that's just what he wanted you to think. It benefitted him to have you think that. But not now. Now you're nothing to him, nothing to them both.'

'Please.'

A timid knock at the door and Luka was gone.

Hope bloomed for an instant. A name crossed his mind.

'Erm, hey.' But that wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. That wasn't the face he wanted to see. The hope died as quickly as it had come to life, leaving Alois feeling all the more empty for its absence. 'Can I come in?'

Soma peered around the barely-open door, wariness shrouding him. He gave a wavering smile when Alois looked over, but when the look was the only response he was given, it fell away.

'Yes? No? Piss off?' Soma laughed awkwardly, inching further into the room. He was still holding on to the door though, as though prepared to make a quick getaway.

Alois didn't even have the energy to tell him to leave.

The silence as Soma waited for a response was excruciatingly long for the both of them. Even the crickets didn't dare chirp.

'Do you want me to leave the door open?' Soma eventually asked, letting the smile drop completely. Seeing him serious was always disconcerting.

You want to leave the door open, Alois thought bitingly, To get away from me faster.

When Alois maintained his silence, Soma nodded, as though that was reply enough, and closed the bedroom door. Without asking for any more permission, all hesitance abandoned, he sauntered across the room to sit on Alois' bed.

'Soooooooo. That was quite a scene.'

Alois shook his head. The words sounded too familiar.

'I mean, Ciel can wind me up with his smart-arse comments sometimes too, but I don't think I've ever shouted in his face for him to shut up like that,' Soma grinned, leaning back on his hands, 'Shoved him out of chairs a few times, gave him a very ill-advised noogie one time, but nothing that direct. You've got more nerve than me, gotta give you that.'

Stop it. Soma was smiling at him with too much friendliness. He was speaking to him too familiarly. Like they were friends, just sharing a joke. Alois couldn't understand it. Stop pretending.

'Still, he wasn't actually saying anything before. So, you can understand why we were all a bit confused.' Soma looked over, pausing to see if Alois was going to talk. No such luck. 'You know, I kinda thought, after last time, you and me might talk some more. I was waiting for you to come to me, but you never did. I get that I should probably take the hint, but ...'

Being crushed by one of Luka's crueller outbursts. The first time someone had hugged him in years. That gentle touch had broken whatever was left in him. Alois had clung to Soma like a lifeline, but once the moment had passed, he hadn't dared to so much as look Soma in the eye. He had heard, after all. That mournful cry. That incriminating name.

I don't understand what you want.

'I just wanted to make it clear. To say it plain,' Soma said, trying and failing to get Alois to make eye contact, 'We can all see you're not alright. I know we've all had our differences. You and me especially, we've never been on the same page. But at the end of the day, we're still in the same boat.'

I don't understand what you're getting from this.

'Differences aside, I don't want anything to happen to you. So ... if you want to talk, I'm willing to listen. I'm pretty good at advice. In fact, I'd say I'm better than everyone here at giving advice. I'm much more worldly, y'see.'

Soma smiled and Alois wanted desperately to believe it. He lifted his head, meeting Soma's eyes at last.

Someone put him up to this, that wasn't Alois' voice in his head. Luka was making himself known once more, even if he wasn't appearing like he usually did. Are you really stupid enough to believe he cares? He's always hated you. He knows what you did to Ciel's eye. He's thought you were a monster ever since.

Alois tried to return Soma's smile but it died on his lips as Luka's voice grew louder.

Remember how he looked at you? He's never looked at anyone else like that. No one else has made him hate them. No one but you.

'So, what do you say?' Soma extended his hand, holding it out for Alois to take. 'Friends?'

Go on, fall for it. Just like they want you to. Then you'll see. You'll see what they really think of you. What they really want to happen to you.

Go on, DO IT.

Alois reached out, desperate to take the offer, to grasp at Soma's gesture before it was tore away. But every bit closer he came to Soma, the louder Luka's voice became, more vicious, more convincing.

Soma's face fell as his hand was slapped away.

'Out,' Alois said, voice flat. He wished he could sound more emphatic. He wished he could convince even himself that he meant it. 'Get out.'

Soma just sat there for a long moment. He didn't look surprised but there was something much stronger than disappointment in his face. His hand just hung there in the air, the rejection a sharp sting.

Alois dropped his forehead back to his knees, refusing to let himself look at Soma anymore, or else he knew he would take it back. He wanted to take it back. He wanted Soma to reach out to him again. He wanted another chance to do it all over.

Please.

But Soma didn't try again. Without another word, he stood up and left the room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

Please, help me.

Who was Claude Faustus, Jim wondered, and why did he have the staff of the care home so spooked? Not for the first time since the man's arrival, the manager flinched, head hung and eyes trained on the floor.

It gave Jim a rush of satisfaction. That was a stance all too familiar to him. He hoped the manager's back would have that dreadful ache too.

'So I'm to understand that the two of you aren't biological brothers?' Claude asked.

The three were sat around a small, round table. There was a plate of french fancies in the middle that the two boys eyed hungrily. They each had an empty cup before them. It was a set-up that not even Trancy was given on his visits. For all his money, he was lucky to get so much as an ironed table cloth.

'Still brothers though,' Jim replied, somewhat defensively. Every word out of his mouth had a barbed edge. It was intentional this time.

'I don't doubt it.' Claude nodded, turning to face Luka. 'They're not just for display. Help yourselves. I don't much care for sweet things myself.'

Luka's face lit up and his hand flew towards the plate. Jim snatched his wrist before he could take anything, earning himself a confused pout.

'No, thanks. We're not supposed to take food off strangers.'

'Jim, we always ta -'

'No, thank you.'

Luka withered beneath the glare, folding his arms across his chest and looking away from Jim. Jim would be paying for that for days. Still, anything could be in those cakes. The way the manager was acting, the way every single person was licking Claude's boots; there was something dangerous behind that amiable demeanour, Jim could tell.

Claude stared for a long moment. Jim met the look, putting every ounce of the mistrust he felt into it. Claude was the first to look away, with a small nod, and then he reached over to pick up one of the french fancies. Despite what he had said, he took a large bite out of it, made a show of swallowing.

'Suit yourself,' he said, voice absent of any feeling.

Still, Jim didn't let himself be fooled, even when Luka gave him a none-too-gentle kick in the shin. The cakes sat untouched and remained that way throughout the meeting. The conversation moved on regardless.

'So what of your education?' Claude asked, wiping his already clean fingers on his napkin. 'I'm told neither of you attend a school. Do tutors come here, then?'

'Nope,' Luka chimed in before Jim could speak, 'We do some numbers on Wednesdays. And sometimes they give us books to read and ask questions about them. But I don't think that counts.'

'We're not allowed to go to school,' Jim said, 'It'd be a problem for them if people asked questions when we suddenly stopped going. Or heaven forbid, one of us say something we shouldn't.'

The manager suddenly looked up, face very red. He opened his mouth, every trembling inch of him making it clear it wasn't going to be an appropriate volume, but he was pre-emptively silenced when Claude held up his hand.

'Go fetch the kettle. We're ready for tea.'

The manager almost seemed ready to argue. Jim wanted him to. That, at least, would be normal. It was frightening to see the manager bite his tongue, slink away and do as he was told. It made Claude all the more threatening. Jim wanted to take Luka's hand and run, as far as they could get from a man who could make the manager, the man of their nightmares, seem so small.

'It's like they don't want you to know.' Jim pushed down any hesitance. He wouldn't let himself be like the manager in front of this man. He wouldn't cower. 'As if you don't know what this place is.'

'They like to put on a show,' Claude agreed, unapologetic in his own admittance, 'But I don't much care for feigned ignorance. That man's a pest. Has he struck you since I was last here?'

The change of topic knocked Jim off balance for a moment, but he quickly regained his step.

'No, though I can tell he really wants to.' Jim grinned, a wicked thing. 'I never realized he knew how to not hit people before now. You learn something new every day.'

Claude nodded, looked to Luka, 'And you?'

Luka just looked baffled. Even though Jim had filled him in on his encounter that day, most of it had gone over Luka's head. He was mostly confused about why they were meeting with someone new when their deal was already being struck. Still, he knew how to be with the guests, so he smiled politely and denied any violence.

'He's lying,' Jim cut in, 'He hits him all the time.'

Jim grabbed Luka's wrist under the table, digging his nails in a little when Luka went to object. It wasn't technically untrue. It just wasn't true recently. The manager hadn't bothered Jim, and Luka by extension, since Claude's warning during his last visit. But Jim stopped Luka saying anything, curious at the glint of something in Claude's eyes.

It was almost an emotion, the first time Jim was seeing anything but blankness from the man.

The manager returned with the kettle, visibly fuming. He made to fill one of the cups but was once again stopped by Claude's upheld hand.

'... Yes?' the manager asked, confused.

Claude took the kettle from him, pouring out the tea himself.

'Ah, I can do that,' Luka offered, flustered at being served, but Claude just asked if he would like any milk or sugar. Jim kept asking for more sugar, Claude dutifully dumping spoon after spoon into his cup, until it was more tea-flavoured sugar than the other way around.

The manager began to skulk away.

'Just a moment.'

Jim couldn't sit still. He could sense something building here, a big Something about to happen. And it was going to happen because of what he had said. Claude was going to do something about what Jim had said, as though Jim's words mattered, as though his voice carried any weight at all.

That feeling, it was what Jim imagined power felt like.

'Put your hands out,' Claude said without inflection, nothing threatening or dark in his voice. Even so, the manager hesitated to comply, the confusion in his face changing to alarm.

'Why?'

Claude left his actions to be the answer. Looking Jim straight in the eye the entire time, he tipped the kettle again, pouring boiling hot tea across the manager's bare hands.

The manager and Luka yelled at the same time. Jim wasn't sure who sounded more distressed. But the manager was definitely the one in pain, his hands already burning a nasty red, the skin shiny and swelling. He turned to leave, holding his hands up, pained tears running down his face.

But he stopped as Claude said, 'I didn't excuse you.'

Claude still had eyes only for Jim. It wasn't until Claude smiled back that Jim felt the smile on his own face, the satisfaction beaming from him. He couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that spilled forth, an almost hysterical stream.

And Claude smiled, a genuine smile, happy to see Jim's happiness.

But neither the manager nor Luka shared their mirth. The manager choked out a please! Luka looked ready to cry, staring at the manager's burned hands with sympathy. He jumped to his feet, the chair rocking unsteadily on its back legs.

'May we please be excused?' Luka asked politely, not forgetting his manners for a minute, but he ran over to the manager before Claude said anything. Careful not to touch his hands, Luka pulled the manager away, out of the room and towards the kitchens.

'Aren't you going to follow him?' Claude asked, setting the kettle back on the table. Completely unflustered by it all, he took a sip of his drink, wrinkling his nose at the taste. 'Feel free to.'

A part of Jim wanted to. But the part that wanted to understand was much stronger.

'Why do you want us to like you?' he asked, still a hint of laughter clinging to him. It shouldn't have been funny. It should have made him afraid. But karma had never existed in his life before and he wasn't going to deprive himself of the pleasure it brought him now.

'Not us, you.' Claude spooned three lumps of sugar into his cup, stirred it until it had dissolved completely, then switched it with Jim's mess of a drink. 'But the two of you are a package deal, I believe.'

Jim hesitated. If only to delay having to respond, he took a sip of the drink. It was the perfect sweetness, taking away the bitter edge of the tea.

'Okay. So why do you want me to like you?' Jim refused to let himself be flattered. At least, he tried to. But he couldn't stop that warmth building in his chest. That feeling of being special.

Claude rested his chin on his hand, taking a moment before he answered.

'When I came here last time, it was to tell them I was no longer interested in their services. No one had particularly stood out to me on my first visit. But ... well, on my way to the office, I saw you. And you just had this anger.'

Jim stayed quiet, even when Claude paused, trying to ignore how that warmth was only swelling in his chest. No one, not a single one of the other children, had managed to catch Claude's attention. No one but him.

'All these children, they're all so dull behind the eyes. There's nothing alive about them. But you, you still have the capacity for anger, for laughter. You still have hope, don't you, Jim?'

Jim shifted in his chair, toyed with the handle of his cup.

'So you want me. You're not answering the question though.'

'I want you to like me. There's no rhyme or reason. I don't make a habit of questioning my wants. If you're going to come with me, isn't it better for the both of us that you like me?' Claude said with a small shrug. It was no explanation at all. It was better than any explanation Jim could have heard.

'So you like me ... because I'm angry.'

Claude smiled slightly. Jim thought it looked a bit fond.

'I like proud people, especially when their situation doesn't justify the pride,' Claude explained, 'To have attacked that man back after he attacked you, that was because of pride. None of the other children possess it, none of the adults deserve to have it, and then there's you. And so I saw you. And it became important to me, that you like me.'

Jim felt his face heat up. Special. The word kept passing through his thoughts.

When they had first spoken in the den, Jim had thought Claude's eyes were scary, but as he met them now, he thought the colour was rather interesting. A cat's eyes, yes, and all the more different for it.

'Trancy has wanted us for ages. He's got loads of money. You won't be able to outbid him.'

If it was the anger, the pride, the spirit that had caught Claude's interest then Jim wasn't going to let himself blush like a schoolgirl and lose that interest. He wouldn't let on just how much Claude was managing to make him sway. He'd keep that interest, the thing that made him special.

'True. I'm not what you'd call rich. My line of employment, and my particular employers at the moment, are not what you'd call lucrative. Even so.' Claude reached out his hand. 'There's more methods than just money. Let Trancy bankrupt himself for his filthy habit. He can't stop you from disappearing.'

Jim reached out too, slipping his hand into Claude's. Claude's hand dwarfed his as they shook.

'Making people disappear is something of a speciality of mine.'

They were never alone anymore. Was it intentional? It had to be. Claude never did anything without fully intending to. He was being careful to never be alone with Alois anymore.

After all this time, it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

'Completely bugged out,' Grey said, balancing on the back two legs of his chair. The words were muffled through his mouthful of crisps, the party-size packet rustling loudly as he dug deep. 'Was all up in the Phantomhive kid's face. Phantomhive wasn't even saying anything. Shocking, I know. He's usually so chatty.'

'We called out to Trancy several times as he left his place in the circle but he gave no indication that he heard us. After his outburst, he seemed to come back to himself. He looked confused. Disorientated, even,' Phipps elaborated. Alois was very aware of his presence. He was stood right behind the chair, hands on the back, only inches from Alois' shoulders.

The implication was clear.

'I see. Alois, what do you have to say about this?' Claude was ice. It wasn't even indifference. It was a deliberate coldness. There was no warmth to be found in him when he was near Alois, not anymore.

'Just tell him the truth,' Luka said, leaning against Alois' knee, 'I want to see his face when you do.'

Alois moved his leg sharply, letting Luka fall.

He didn't say a thing.

'Trancyyyyy, you're being asked a question,' Grey crooned, licking the salt from his fingers, 'You should at least look at someone when they speak to you. Bad manners not to.'

'Annoying.' It was being chanted, repeated over and over as Grey spoke. Luka face was contorted, a nasty look being sent Grey's way. 'Annoying, annoying, annoying.'

'He's laughing at you, Jim.'

'He thinks it's funny.'

'Make him stop laughing.'

'Make it so he can never laugh again.'

Alois scrunched his eyes shut. It didn't stop the words but at least he didn't have to see Luka's twisted face. But then, eyes shut, he didn't see the hand coming his way either. He wrenched around in the chair as he felt its touch, his arm shooting out to grab Phipps' wrist, bending it back on itself before he even realized what he was doing.

Phipps got himself free easily. At the same time, Grey had gotten his hands around Alois' shoulders, shoving him back into the chair roughly. He left one hand at Alois' throat, pressing against his adam's apple.

Kneeling in his own chair, Grey smiled, 'Now, now. That wasn't very nice.'

'Hit him,' Luka implored, a desperate edge to his voice, 'Hit him back.'

Alois' hands had curled into fists without his permission. He didn't mean to do that. Just as he didn't mean to draw his arm back, let the tension coil in his muscles, preparing to pounce. But Phipps caught his wrists before he could, squeezing them so tightly that Alois could feel the unpleasant slide of skin over bone, the grind of his knuckles being pushed too closely together.

'Don't just sit there!' Luka was sobbing. He sounded afraid. 'Move! Hurt them before they hurt you!'

But Alois didn't dare move. His hands felt like they were creaking, Phipps squeezing them so tightly. And that hand at his throat. That look Grey was giving him, daring him to try it again. He barely let himself swallow, flinching at the way Grey's hand shifted against him when he did.

All the while, Claude watched.

'Kids these days just have no manners, do they, Phipps?' Grey said, faking outrage. He was no doubt more bothered by having dropped his packet of crisps on the floor than any damage done to Phipps' hand. Not that there seemed to have been any. His grip was more than strong enough.

Alois kept perfectly still, eyes on the ground.

'Alois. I'd like you to answer the question.'

'Do as he says,' Luka implored, 'He'll like you again if you do as he says.'

Alois couldn't even remember what the question had been. Luka's voice was too loud, Phipps' restraint too tight, Grey's hand too heavy at his throat. How could they expect him to focus on anything they were saying when everything was happening all at once?

His head hurt.

He just wanted to sleep.

'Alois,' Claude's voice came again, softer now, 'What are you looking at?'

Luka grinned up at him, leaning against his knee again. All at once, his tears and panic had vanished, leaving only Alois to feel its weight. And yet he wouldn't keep still. His hands kept shooting out, trying pointlessly to grab at anything within arm's reach. Alois couldn't help but stare, following the movements, if only so he didn't slip and let himself look at Claude.

'He was doing that the other day too,' Phipps said, 'At first I thought he was staring off into space, but he was too focused for that.'

'Oooooh, struck a nerve!' Grey leaned down to get a better look at Alois' face, at the dread now there. He couldn't have looked more ecstatic, somehow finding joy in the discovery. 'What do you think it is? What're you seeing, Trancy?'

'Make him get out of your face,' Luka said, either unaware of or ignoring the significance of what Claude had said. Luka was too absorbed in the anger, 'He's asking for it, getting that close to you. Make him move. Make him hurt.'

Alois had to bite his lip to stop himself from speaking. To tell Luka no, to spill his soul to Claude once again. The words were far too willing to leave him. He had to tie them down for now, lock them away until he could get his hands on his pen, the pen on the paper, the words abandoned to the page where they could do no harm.

To him, or to anyone else.

'You don't want to tell me?' Claude's voice had dropped even more, the words so heavy with disappointment, with hurt. He sounded like the old Claude then. The pre-St. Victoria's Claude.

Don't do that, please.

Alois ground his teeth down more harshly on his bottom lip, focusing on the building warmth there. The skin purpled. A seam formed, split. The warmth cooled as a damp red streak. And the truth stayed secret.

The conversation happened around him after that. It was as though they had forgotten he was even there. Words like hyper-aggression and delusions were thrown around too easily. The Zydrate was blamed, not the people who had given it to him, the one person in particular. He would be taken off the Zydrate, for his and the other patients' safety.

Claude escorted Alois back to the ward alone.

A distance was maintained between them.

They did not walk side-by-side.

They did not even look at each other.

Just before the ward door buzzed open, Claude spoke, that same echo of his old self there. Or at least, Alois thought he could hear it.

'If you change your mind about speaking to me, just tell whoever is on the ward. They'll send for me.'

He still didn't look over at Alois. As soon as he had said his piece, he was walking away.

Alois called after him uncertainly, 'You'll really come?'

But Claude mustn't have heard him, swiftly disappearing around the corner.

AN: Phew. So this is part one of two. Chapter 27 was always gonna be super long but once it hit 20K words I figured I should upload it in halves. I've only got one more scene to write for the second part so it shouldn't take too long.

I don't even know if people will notice or remember, but since it's bothering the eff outta me, I'm gonna mention; there are discrepancies between references I've made in past chapters to Alois' past and what I'm now writing, so I'm really sorry about that! Ugh I'd go back and change those things but I don't have any of the old chapters on my laptop anymore and FF doesn't let you copy from it. Might take them from AO3 and fiddle with 'em, but since I hate all pre-chapter 18 or 19 stuff, I'd end up just rewriting the entire story, so I'll wait until I've officially finished before fucking around with the old stuff. But yeah, tl;dr: sorry for stuff being out of whack!

Hope you guys liked this and thanks as always for still sticking with this fic~