Omygod I am so sorry! You don't know what I've been through to finish this chapter!
Moony: *falls into chair* Finally, it's over. For realz, ya'll. She's not exaggerating this time. This past month has been nothing but holidays, tests, and parental crap.
Yes, Moony. We all know my dad's being a jerkface. I'll get over it. Eventually. Anywho~ This is the longest chapter yet! I would continue to apologize for the delay, but I guess we'll get right down to it. Moony-pie?
Moony: That is not my name! Nevertheless, Maya-chan does not own Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler. After this nonsensical chapter, you will all know why.
There was nothing. Time was nothing. Space was nothing. She was nothing. She supposed this was what death was like. But if she was dead…
Why was she aware of it?
She tried to open her eyes. Instead of darkness, she saw milky white. How strange, she thought. Why am I here? Why aren't I…? Where am I from again?
She concentrated, but her mind drew a blank. She tried to remember something easier; her name.
Why don't I know what my name is?
She looked around. Nothing but a wispy blank. She looked down. She was wearing underclothes. The shirt was slashed, but the skin underneath was smooth. Her feet were bare. She couldn't see or feel the ground. She looked up. The sun was nowhere to be found. Every part of her body felt weightless; there was nothing supporting her.
What a bland place. What do I do now?
"Anya."
She jerked around, twisting to find the source of the soft voice. Far away but coming close was a long, snaking strip of what looked like film. It wove through the misty emptiness, scattering wispy clouds in every direction.
"Anya!"
The strip flew at her, folding and enveloping her in a tight coil. She cried out as memory crashed into her at lightning speed. Every emotion she had ever felt; every thought, every touch, and every scrap of information she had ever processed. The numbness of her blank surroundings was burned away and replaced with pure feeling. And a million times over, she heard that name.
"Anya?"
She remembered. Her name was Anya.
"Anya? Why the name Anya?"
Slowly, a picture formed in front of Anya's eyes. There were two women in a small, plain room. One was elderly, with graying hair and a round, motherly sort of face. Sitting beside her on one of the two beds was a young woman who was obviously with child. She pushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ear and tenderly cupped a hand around her abdomen. Her cornflower blue eyes sparkled with tears at the older woman's question.
"Oh Collette, it was his mother's name," she sobbed. Collette put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"It's alright," she shushed. "Just let it out." Her friend cried, repeating the same thing over and over again.
"Why did it happen? Why'd it happen to him? Ian didn't deserve to die!"
"Nobody deserves a death like that, Amelia," Collette sighed. "But the best thing you can do is keep living for him, and for your little Anya. How are you so sure it's a girl, anyway?" Amelia fixed Collette with a broken stare.
"He wanted a little girl. A girl with his eyes."
The scene shifted. The next thing Anya saw was Amelia's face, frozen in a death mask of pain. Before, she had been the picture of health; now, she was thin as a rail and her skin had lost every bit of its former color. Anya could tell that she had died moments ago, but had been malnourished long before then. Collette hovered nearby, a crumpled bundle in her arms. Silent tears fell from her eyes.
"Amelia," she cried. "Why wouldn't you listen? You didn't have to die for him." She cradled the still form in her arms. "And now you've killed this child as well. Little Anya. You got his wish; she had his eyes."
Anya gasped. Collette was holding a baby. A dead baby.
Anya Criel had been born dead.
A bright flash obscured the vision. Anya shied away from the light, eyes squeezed shut. As she felt physical sensation return to her body, she felt the feather-light touch of lips against her ear. The last thing she heard before regaining consciousness was a familiar voice in her ear.
"You don't need to see this. You need to wake up and help your friends."
It was her own voice.
"They could have told me," muttered William. The girl's Cinematic Record had faded from his sight, and she was waking up. There was no doubt about it; this one was protected. Someone had interfered with her destiny; in short, Anya Criel shouldn't have lived at all.
He freed her bound arms and feet and caught her as she slumped forward. He laid her into a more convenient position on the bed before addressing the demon.
"Where are the others?" he demanded. The Phantomhive butler glared back at him.
"Your little nuisance attacked Trancy and his butler. He seemed to think that Claude was my boyfriend." Sebastian shuddered.
"That does sound like him," William agreed. "I take it that this one is your responsibility." He gestured to Anya, who was just sitting up. She rubbed her head, unintelligible fragments of conversation spilling out of her. Sebastian quickly crossed the room to check her over for injuries. Finding none whatsoever, he turned back to face William.
"Why isn't she dead?" William ignored Sebastian's bluntness.
"Her record was favorable," the Shinigami lied. "She does not need to die now."
"You're lying," Sebastian replied instantly. "Why didn't you cultivate her soul?"
"That matter has nothing to do with you."
"My master has charged me with protecting this girl. It has everything to do with me."
"I'm afraid I am simply unauthorized to speak of it." William walked by Sebastian with a cool glance. "If you don't mind, I must collect Grelle. If he causes too much trouble, it'll be triple overtime for the both of us." With that, he left the room at a sprint.
"Sebastian?" The frightened complaint restrained the butler. He turned back to the bed and watched Anya sit up. Sebastian knelt at Anya's eye level to look her in the eyes.
"Anya, I don't have any time for explanations. We have to find the young master now." The maid nodded to show that she understood the urgency of the situation, but her eyes still showed signs of instability. Sebastian sighed. Humans are so easily shaken. He placed a hand on each of Anya's shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
"You aren't in any danger now. Our young lord has ordered me to protect you with my life, and that is what I will do. You know the abilities of our staff; as long as you are with us, we will make sure that no one will hurt you again." He spoke firmly and with authority, but also with a certainty that comforted Anya, and helped her get over some of her shock.
"I know," she promised.
"Right, then." Sebastian straightened. "Let's go." Suddenly, Anya was on her feet. A few swirls of fabric later, she was clothed in the emerald green gown that Alois had worn. She glared at Sebastian.
"Don't complain," he ordered, half pushing her through the door. "Trancy took the pink one for some reason, and we are not walking around with you only halfway dressed."
"Somehow, I thought that sadist would prefer pink," Anya muttered. Sebastian grinned and led her through several hallways until they reemerged in the dancing hall. A few stragglers were still lingering, talking amongst themselves and commenting on the wonderful party. They still thought that the evening had been a simple one, full of joy and dance. To Anya, it seemed like an entirely different world.
None of them have any idea of what occurred only a few doors away.
"There!" Sebastian had found Ciel quickly. He was casually hanging back, trying not to look as if he was waiting for someone. The Phantomhive servants approached with a bow and a curtsy. Ciel looked relieved.
"Where have you been?" he breathed. "I thought you'd been carried off, or worse!" Anya and Sebastian exchanged a glance.
"We will have to inform you at a later time, young master." Sebastian's tone conveyed the urgency of the situation. "It would behoove us to leave right now. Trancy and Faustus are still on the prowl."
"And those strange men, too," Anya added. Ciel started, and looked to Sebastian for confirmation. The butler nodded, and Ciel groaned.
"We have to get away from here," he agreed. "Sebastian, get the carriage. Try not to get tackled on the way."
They all made for the exit, but found their way blocked by a young servant boy dressed in red. He was tall and raven haired, and easily handsome. He stood in the doorway, hands planted on his hips. Sebastian moved to step by him, but the young man stepped into his path. Anya gasped as she caught sight of him, and hid herself behind Ciel's small frame.
"Please move, boy," Sebastian instructed. "My young master and mistress need to be on their way." The boy shook his head, glaring through Ciel and straight at Anya.
"That's no young mistress, butler," the boy accused. "What are you doing here, Anya? Everyone's been looking for you!" Sebastian stepped forward on the maid's behalf.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken," he lied smoothly. "This is Lady Amelia Midford, cousin of Earl Ciel Phantomhive." Ciel nodded his head, and Anya dropped into a quick curtsy, staring at her shoes. "Now, if you will kindly step aside."
"No," the boy said stubbornly. "That's Anya Criel, Count Rosenbloom's adopted daughter. She ran away after- a misunderstanding with our staff." He turned to Anya with pleading hazel eyes. "Why won't you talk to me, Anya? It's me, Eugene. Am I not your friend anymore?"
"I must insist," said Sebastian. "That you are not addressing whom you think. Please let us by."
"I'll move if Amelia tells me to."
Anya knew they were trapped. With all these people around, Sebastian couldn't just knock Eugene out of the way; it would cause a disturbance and draw too much attention to Ciel. And Anya knew without a doubt that Eugene would be able to recognize her voice, just as he had recognized her beneath all of the hair dye and frills.
Suddenly, an idea struck her. Just as Ciel began to come to her defense, she stepped forward and began making random signs with her hands.
"'As you can see, young man,'" Sebastian pretended to translate. "'I am unable to tell you to do that. I cannot speak at all, and haven't since birth.'" Anya sent him a sincerely grateful smile. Butler to the rescue once again.
Eugene didn't look convinced, but he finally stepped away from the doorway, unable to do anything else.
"There's a good lad," Sebastian said as he ushered Ciel and Anya into the early morning air. "I am truly sorry. If we see this Anya of yours, we'll be sure to send her along to your master's house."
Anya knew she shouldn't look back, but risked a glance over her shoulder anyway. Eugene was outlined against the light spilling from the door. His silhouette was rigid, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He looked so hurt and alone. Anya almost ran back to him, to explain everything, but was held back by both Sebastian's restraining arm and the still-fresh feel of his whip slicing through her skin. She faced forward and didn't look back again.
Eugene watched the three of them disappear into the gloom of early morning. He felt cheated; that had been Anya, but who were those two with her, and why had they lied for her? The Earl of Phantomhive… that boy couldn't be the feared Queen's Watchdog? The truth came to him like a signal flare. The demon in Anya bewitched them, too.
Yes, Eugene still believed that his friend Anya was with them. But he knew without a doubt that the "Incident" had been caused by an evil spirit possessing his best friend's body. He had thought that when they drove her out, the demon had left, too. That's why the entire household had been searching for her, ready to welcome her home.
Clearly, the demon was still inside her.
"Eugene! Get over here!" a deep voice cried. The stable boy sighed and went to face the music; Count Rosenbloom was waiting by his own carriage. Eugene stepped forward with a bow to his master. The Count was a healthy man in his mid-fifties, with iron grey hair and eyes to match. He looked down on Eugene with contempt.
"What took you so long? I've been waiting here for ten minutes!" Eugene flinched at the steel in his master's voice.
"Sir," he began. "I saw Anya. She was here."
"What? Why didn't you bring her to me, you simpleton?"
"There were others with her, sir. The demon has bewitched the Earl of Phantomhive; she is under his protection."
Rosenbloom cursed. "I want that girl back, boy. Are you sure they hadn't kidnapped her? I never fully believed your ridiculous notion about that spirit possessing her."
"I'm sure, sir. She would have had ample opportunity to run, or give me a sign. She pretended to be mute, and not know me. The Earl's butler called her Amelia."
"Her mother's name," the Count grumbled. "But how did she know it? She never asked questions about her parents when she was young, and nobody would speak to her after she turned seven. I made sure that she would never find out."
"Find out what, sir?"
"Never you mind, boy. Just get her back. When we get back to the house, take as many men as you need and go to Phantomhive estate. Take her by force if necessary, but bring her home in one piece."
"Of course, sir. I'll bring Anya home."
"That bastard."
Ciel sat rigidly in the carriage seat across from Anya. His expression made the maid even more uncomfortable after recounting the evening's events. The Earl looked angry enough to kill.
"When I see him again, I swear I'll-!"
"My lord," Sebastian cut in from the driver's seat. "Forgive me, but you may want to save that sentiment for another time. It will be quite some time before we reach the manor, and the two of you have been through a lot tonight." Ciel grumbled, but fell silent. Anya fiddled with her skirts. Just retelling the story had shaken her up. The memory of Alois's touch made her want to scrub every inch of her skin until it was raw; anything to forget what had almost happened.
She absently touched her fingers to her lips, the pressure bringing back the feel of Alois's forceful kiss. Her very first kiss, and it was stolen by an insane, cross-dressing freak of nature who had kidnapped her and almost r-
No. She refused to even let herself think the word. It hadn't happened, and she was safe now. She needed to focus on more important things, like helping her young master catch Trancy and finding out what those visions meant. Had they been real? They couldn't have been; they showed that Anya had been dead.
Then again, she thought. I should have died when I was run through with a spear. What on Earth is going on?
"Anya," Ciel said sleepily. "Do you think that boy will cause us any trouble?"
"He's just a stable hand," Anya explained offhandedly. "He wouldn't have any influence on the Count; he never listens to anyone."
Her run-in with Eugene had done little to settle her nerves. It was like her wounds hadn't disappeared at all. The cut on her head had closed and healed itself, and the swelling on her face had completely faded, but her skull was pounding and her skin crawled with a nervous energy. Too much had happened in the past day. Even Sebastian had waved off her questions about the strange men with an order to let him relax on the drive home. The whole situation made her head hurt.
To take her mind off of things, she gazed out the window. The sun would be rising in a few hours. They had been up all night.
Anya faced Ciel again to suggest that they catch some sleep on the way home, and found that her young master had beaten her to it. As she nodded off in sync with Ciel's soft snoring, Anya felt an overwhelming need to talk to Finny. A bit of hope sounded wonderful right now. She was going to need it.
Sebastian gently shook his young master awake. Ciel wiped the sleep from his eyes and groggily let himself be helped out of the carriage just as the sun broke over the horizon. The staff had gathered around to welcome them home.
"Was your trip successful, young master?"
Everyone stared at Tanaka, who had spoken for the first time in days. Apparently, the chamomile and some good, refreshing sleep had treated him well. Then they turned their attention to Ciel for a response.
"We know who the murderer is," Ciel said around a huge yawn. "They got away, but we'll catch them. Yes, what is it, Finian?" Finny had been jumping up and down madly with one arm raised high above his head. He ceased his rabid hopping to ask his question.
"Sir, where's Anya?"
Ciel's eyes hardened. He glanced at the carriage and back at Finny a few times before answering.
"Anya is in the carriage. She has been through a lot tonight," he said carefully. "So we shouldn't wake her just yet. Finny, could you take her to her room? Mey-rin, Bardroy, and Mr. Tanaka, I need you to fill me in on everything that happened in my absence. Sebastian, stable the horses and put the coach in the carriage house, and then join us in the study." Everyone threw smart salutes before rushing off to do their duties.
Finny leaned through the open door of the carriage and lifted the slumbering Anya into his arms. She curled up against his chest, stirring slightly. He carried on to the house as smoothly as possible so as not to wake her. He had some trouble getting doors open, but he eventually arrived at Anya and Mey-rin's room.
While Anya had been away, the maid, cook, and gardener had gotten together to make the accommodations a little more homey to celebrate her new job. Finny had put cornflowers and lilac in every available container and placed them around the room, simply because he knew that Anya liked those the best. Mey-rin had found some indigo dye and turned the plain white bed sheets into a royal purple. Bard, unable to think of anything else, had taken a book of poems from Sebastian's lessons and left it on the small table next to Anya's bed.
Holding Anya tightly (but not too tightly) with one arm, Finny used his other to quickly draw back the violet bedspread. He gently laid her down and tucked her into bed. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and, after a slight hesitation, gave Anya a soft kiss on the cheek.
If Finny had expected a reaction, it would have been a slight unrest. Maybe she would turn over in her sleep, or throw an arm over the pillow. In his more fanciful imaginings, Finny supposed she might have even smiled a bit.
What he had not expected was for Anya to snap into wakefulness, scream at the top of her lungs, and haul off and punch him in the face as hard as she could. Finny fell back, unhurt but off-balance. Anya stood over him, eyes flashing with wild panic until she woke fully.
"Ohmygoodness," she panicked. "Finny, I- I mean- when did-? I'm so sorry!" Anya knelt down beside her friend, still apologizing. She brought a tentative hand to his face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm alright," Finny promised. "Super strong, remember? Nice punch, by the way." He got to his feet and helped Anya up.
"I'm the one who should apologize," Finny said sheepishly. "I tried not to wake you, because the young master said you'd had a rough night."
"It isn't your fault," Anya insisted. "I-I think I was having a nightmare about… what happened at the gala. I just need some time to myself, I guess."
Finny shifted his weight from foot to foot. He scratched his head. He twiddled his thumbs. Anya sighed.
"Just say it."
"What happened to you, Anya?" Finny finally burst out with his question. Anya gestured that they sit on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath.
"You don't have to tell me," Finny said awkwardly. He was desperately curious, but this was obviously a serious subject.
"I want to tell you," she whispered. "When I told the young master, I nearly broke down. But I think talking about it with you could help me calm down, so I won't go crazy and hit anyone else."
Finny reached for her hand, and Anya flinched involuntarily. She gave Finny an apologetic look, but didn't take his hand. She scooted a little farther away from him before closing her eyes and recalling the events of the previous evening.
Finny sat silently through the story, but his face told Anya every word that he wouldn't say. When she described how she had found herself as Alois's captive, Finny protectively took her hand again. She accepted it this time, and he squeezed her hand lightly in assurance.
Anya had told Finny everything- skipping over the strange dream she had experienced. She hesitated, a small tear rolling down her cheek. She sighed and laid her head against Finny's shoulder.
"Do you believe in miracles?" she whispered finally.
Finny released her hand. Anya felt a twinge of loss until he brought the hand up to stroke her hair exactly the way Eugene used to. Anya mentally shook herself as she tried to process Finny's reply.
"Of course," he said, as serious as Anya had ever seen him. "It was a miracle when Sebastian found me; a miracle when I got this job. And," he added. "I think that you are a miracle on this house. I know that I'm perfectly worthless in the garden, and Mey-rin breaks things all the time, and Bard can't cook anything but charcoal. Mr. Sebastian and Mr. Tanaka were the only real Phantomhive house servants.
"But now you're here," Finny continued. "You can cook and fold sheets and rake leaves without snapping the rake." He pulled back from Anya and sat on the bed facing her. "And you went with the young master and Mr. Sebastian on a mission from the Queen! None of us have ever done that. You were kidnapped by that jerk Alois Trancy, and I've only seen you shed this one tear." He brought a hand to Anya's face, brushing the lone tear away with his thumb.
"You're a miracle, Anya, and you're also my best friend in the whole world." Finny drew her into a comforting hug, and Anya decided that the strange dream could wait. It was just a dream, after all. Wasn't it? If it was true, I wouldn't be alive!
And Anya had lots and lots of living she wanted to do. And dreams were only dreams, after all.
Finny drew back slowly and finally stood. "I guess I'll leave you, then. The young master will be expecting me. He said to make sure you got some good rest." He exited with a wave and closed the door softly. Anya sat on the edge of her bed. Her hand gravitated to her face, where her fingertips rested lightly on her cheek. The skin seemed to tingle, a warm, fuzzy feeling.
She smiled as she collapsed back into bed, still fully clothed and with shoes on.
The days passed quickly at Phantomhive Manor. The Earl and his butler were constantly out and about, searching for Alois Trancy and Claude Faustus. While they were away, Mr. Tanaka and Anya were basically in charge of things. Anya quickly picked up the usual rhythm of life as a Phantomhive maid; she cooked with Bard, cleaned with Mey-rin, and spent hours with Finny in the greenhouse. When she was tired, she had a relaxing cup of tea with Mr. Tanaka, whose speech she was slowly beginning to understand.
Although she and Sebastian still argued about it from time to time, Anya was given permission to wear what she wished; Miss Nina, an energetic and eccentric tailor, had made her some warm winter work clothes that didn't restrict her movement. She now owned three very similar outfits consisting of a warm long-sleeved shirt, trousers, a fleece jacket, and sturdy shoes.
"The modern woman should be independent," Nina proclaimed. "All of the ideals about lace and frills are all well and good for a lady whose only job is to look good, but a real working woman needs a practical, unobtrusive ensemble that won't get in the way, but is still stylish." These clothes proved to be perfect for any type of work, from cooking to watering to tea-making.
During her scant free time, Anya would sit in the library and read all she could. The book of poems that Bard had given her was full of heartfelt passages written by a Miss Dickinson, and Anya was in love with them. There was one poem in particular that had captured her heart; 'Hope' is the thing with feathers. She and Finny read it together on many occasions, as the words sang out to both of them with certain clarity.
Anya had never felt so happy, or so completely accepted. Even upon Sebastian and the Earl's many returns, Anya felt as if she were welcoming family home. Although she could never bring herself to feel overly friendly toward Sebastian, they were wonderful co-workers and had great respect for one another.
Earl Phantomhive, however, was a different story. Between his normal duties as the head of England's Underground businesses and tracking down Alois, he was hardly ever home. But when he was, he would always put on a smile and let Anya fill him in on the happenings during his absence. The maid still felt the impetus of being a Phantomhive maid, but Ciel made her feel more like an older sister than a servant.
She was always up at the crack of dawn to see Ciel and Sebastian off on their outings, and waited in the quiet evening hours after sunset for them to return. She would catch him trying to eat his dessert before dinner and falling asleep over his work, and she would cluck and chide until he repented. When she was being perfectly honest with herself, Anya sometimes felt more like Ciel's mother than his maid.
When she made this comment to Sebastian one day, about two weeks into November, he smiled and simply said that he understood the sentiment. The manor continued to be a place of peace, love and laughter for Anya.
On December 12, Anya came to the kitchens to help with breakfast. Ciel had returned late last night from a visit to Scotland Yard, and she wanted to prepare an enormous breakfast. She bounded into the kitchen ready for action, only to find the rest of the staff (minus Sebastian) conspiring over the countertop. Sneaking up behind them, she made a grab for the object they were huddled around.
"What's this, then?" she inquired. Startled, Finny, Bard, Mey-rin, and Tanaka all snapped to attention as the head maid snatched the object of their attention. It was a small, rectangular box, half wrapped in delicate green paper. There was a card on the table as well. Under the panicked gaze of her co-workers, Anya read the inscription aloud.
"'To the Earl Phantomhive… on this, his fifteenth birthday'?" Anya breathed. Her eyes snapped up to meet each of her friends' in turn. They all flinched, expecting her to be angry with them. To their surprise, Anya beamed at them. "How wonderful! Why didn't you all tell me that the young master's birthday was approaching? I would've helped prepare the celebration!"
None of them replied. Bard and Finny stared at their shoes. Mey-rin blushed heavily and fiddled with her glasses. Anya felt the smile melt from her face. What is wrong with all of them? Finally, the remaining staff member spoke up.
"Anya, dear," Tanaka explained gently. Anya listened carefully, knowing this must be important for Mr. Tanaka to summon such energy. "The young master does not celebrate his birthday. It is a very hard day for him to remember."
Anya frowned, dropping the parcel back onto the table. She saw now that the box contained something from each person; Finny had pressed some flowers into a book, Bard had somehow created a small box of decent sweets, and Mey-rin had embroidered a handkerchief with the Phantomhive crest. Anya picked up Tanaka's gift and gasped.
It was a small photograph of a family sitting down to a picnic. A very handsome man (who wasn't very unlike Sebastian) was smiling at a kind faced woman on the checkered picnic blanket. Just to the left of the couple was another woman with shockingly red hair. She was smiling as well, but her eyes seemed sad.
In the very center, sprawled across the blanket with a huge white dog, was a small child who had to be Ciel.
The boy was sitting on the dog's back, grinning at the camera. His sparkling blue eyes were alive with laughter. Looking at this scene, Anya felt tears well up in her eyes. She pushed the photo away, afraid of soiling it with her tears.
"I wanted to give him something, too," she blurted. The others just stared at her. "What? Am I not allowed to? I know you all have been with the young master much longer than I have…"
"It's not like that," Bard interceded gently. "We didn't think the young master wanted you to know."
"About his birthday?"
"No," said Tanaka. "I'm sure he would have told you, but the subject of his birthday always brings up the Incident." Anya could almost hear the old man capitalizing the word. "The death of his parents, the fire, and the disappearance- It all started on today's date five years ago. That is why he doesn't like to celebrate, or even acknowledge, that day."
"I understand," Anya insisted, after the initial shock wore off. "But if you had told me before, I might have had time to get a present ready! I mean, next you'll be telling me that we won't be celebrating Christmas, either!"
Silence from the others. Anya groaned. That would need fixing. But what was she going to give Ciel? The others had all pitched in; there was no way she was going to be left out.
Bard seemed to read her thoughts, and grinned for the first time that morning. "Aw, you would never have to get him anything. You're an ace Phantomhive maid. We do this as a sort of apology for messing up all the time." Anya's face fell. "But, uh, you could if you wanted to," the chef backpedaled.
"What would I give him, though?" Anya mused. "You all give him something that is a part of you. Finny, you put so much time into your flowers. Mey-rin, I know how hard that embroidery is on your eyes. Bard, I can tell you actually took your time and put careful thought into the sweets. And Mr. Tanaka, that photo comes from your experience here serving the Phantomhives. Those are all special and unique to your personalities. I don't have anything unique or special to give."
"That's not true," Finny exclaimed. "You are special, Anya. You're nearly as good at your job as Sebastian! None of us have seen the young master so happy, and you caused that change in just a few days. And," he added. "Not one of us has ever been able to call him by his first name."
Anya flushed at his words. After the gala, it had become almost compulsory for Anya to address the Earls as such; her sisterly instincts didn't help the situation. After countless slip-ups and apologies, Ciel had finally allowed Anya to call him by his first name. He insisted that it was partially his and Sebastian's fault for drumming it into her head before the gala. And Anya had indeed begun to think of him as simply 'Ciel' in her thoughts.
The unbidden memory of Alois's voice in her ear crept to the forefront of Anya's mind. What are you to him? Anya had answered the question truthfully; Ciel was a wonderful friend. Anya blinked. That was it.
"I'm his friend," she whispered, much too softly for the others to hear. "I guess the best I can do is keep working hard," she added, raising her voice. "I'll do my best to carry out my duties accurately and cheerfully; that is basically all I can do. We will all continue to serve Lord Phantomhive faithfully, and stay by his side until the end. That is the most important gift we can give."
The staff threw up a cheer, and then went about their duties. Bard got breakfast on the stove, and Mey-rin ran to set the table. Finny left to check on the young rosebuds in the greenhouse. Mr. Tanaka regressed into his more comfortable, natural attitude and wandered off to find some tea. As Sebastian entered the kitchen to assist Bard with breakfast, Anya slipped away to the library.
Because the master hadn't specifically ordered her not to celebrate, now had he?
"And just what do you think you're doing?"
Anya didn't even turn in the direction of the dark voice. It was all too familiar by now. She continued to browse the shelves from her precarious perch. She had found a rolling ladder, and was stretching as far as she could to grab a book that was just out of her reach. Giving up, she finally descended the ladder and addressed the surly butler.
"I can't quite reach that book," she said, as if that was enough explanation. "My arms are too short." Sebastian sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why does she answer every question except for the one I ask? He read the title on the spine of the book with only the quickest of glances: Simple Desserts for the Modern Home.
"I have already prepared dessert for today's meal, Anya. You don't need to make anything."
Anya grumbled something, a light blush coloring her pale cheeks.
"What was that?"
"It's not for dessert," she mumbled. "Well, it is, but I wanted to make a cake." Sebastian made a sound of understanding, and then his signature smirk appeared on his face.
"As I said, I have already prepared dessert," Sebastian stated slowly. "Just because the young master does not wish to celebrate today, that does not mean that we are prohibited from it. Follow me, if you will."
Anya kept up with Sebastian well, until she realized where they were going; Sebastian's room. It was one of the very few places that the maid had not explored in the manor, and she was rather curious as to what she would find in there.
All in all, it was a perfectly normal room. Anya stood in the doorway while Sebastian dug around in the chest at the foot of the medium sized bed. A wash basin stood in the corner, and there was a light brown wardrobe against the far wall. There was no other furniture.
Anya slowly put one foot in front of the other and entered Sebastian's living quarters. It doesn't reflect his personality at all, she thought, shocked. I would have expected something, anything personal, but it looks like he doesn't even sleep in here. With her head up in the clouds, Anya absently tugged the wardrobe door.
Sebastian cried out a warning, but he was too late. Anya had been bowled over by a mountain of furry, fluffy kittens. They mewled and yowled at their strange visitor, who was so different from their butler friend. A baby calico settled on Anya's chest. It looked closely at her, and promptly sneezed in her face. Anya stared, and then burst out laughing.
"So!" she guffawed. "The big, scary, butler hides cats in his room? I was expecting something a little more frightening or tough!" She was suddenly silenced by a gloved hand clamping down tightly on her mouth. She was suddenly on her feet, wedged in between Sebastian and the wall. Her wide eyes flooded with tears as she struggled to push the butler away. Still muffling her cries of protest with his palm, Sebastian somehow captured both of Anya's wrists with one hand and pinned them above her head.
"You will not say a word," he hissed malevolently. "Not to the young master or anyone else." Anya shook her head as emphatically as she could, being pressed against the wall. Sebastian brought his face very close to hers, burning holes into her eyes. His burgundy eyes flamed with a garish fire that sent Anya's racing heart into fierce palpitations. "Are we clear?"
Anya squeaked her assent, and Sebastian abruptly released her and returned to the other side of the room to continue his search. It was if nothing at all had happened. Anya slid down the wall until she was huddled on the floor, paralyzed with fear.
"Ah, here it is," Sebastian said, and turned to face her. Stepping over the numerous prowling kittens, he presented a small platter to Anya. A delicious looking circular cake sat on the plate, doused with dark blue icing and dripping with chocolate. A white iced rose had been skillfully crafted in the center, with deep green sepals caressing the blossom.
Anya could only stare at the beautiful pastry. It was just like Sebastian to have already prepared a cake- or was it? Did she even really know this man at all? Just when she thought that they could be friends, he sprung this on her!
"Y-You," she sputtered. "You c-could have-!"
"What?" Sebastian replied innocently. "Been a bit gentler? I know for a fact that you are perfectly unharmed; even if you were, your injuries would heal overnight." Anya ignored the hand offered to her by the demon and found her feet once again.
"You," she huffed. "Could have thought of simply asking me not to tell anyone! I wouldn't have sold you out, Mister Sebastian. I happen to like cats, although I'm a tad allergic to them." She carefully scooped up the calico kitten in her arms, and it immediately purred and nuzzled its face into her neck. Anya's eyes softened a bit.
"The thing I like most about them," she continued, to Sebastian's astonishment. "Is that they are impeccable judges of character. And since these cats obviously adore you, I won't tell anyone about them, or the fact that you attacked me. But mark my words, butler; I don't take kindly to this sort of behavior. And I thought you were better than that brute Alois."
Sebastian stiffened. "Please do not compare me to that boy. We are two completely different people."
"Then act like it!"
Sebastian blinked, and then ordered her to release the kitten and wash up in the basin. Grumbling, Anya complied. When she was finished, Sebastian shoved the cake platter into her hands.
"Since you haven't found a contribution to our celebration, I suppose I can at least allow you to deliver the cake, Anya."
Anya started for the door, but thought of something. Balancing the cake on one hand and the door with the other, she turned to look at her co-worker.
"Sebastian?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you call me Amelia at the Gala?"
Sebastian looked surprised, but quickly composed himself. "That was out of the blue. What brought that up?"
"Oh, I don't know," Anya exclaimed, exasperated. "I just wanted to know how you knew!"
"Knew what?" Sebastian asked, for once sincerely curious. Anya hovered awkwardly, halfway out of the room. She flushed and gazed at her shoes.
"My mother's name," she finally answered. "I- I think her name was Amelia. How did you know to call me that? If you had called me anything else, I would have frozen up and Eugene never would have left it alone."
Sebastian stroked his chin, lost in thought. "I had no idea it was your mother's name. You were mumbling quite a bit when you came around after your… encounter. One of the things you said was the name 'Amelia'. So naturally, it was the first alias that came to mind." He paused, deliberating.
"Anya, do you remember anything from that night?"
Anya swallowed thickly. "Alois kidnapped me, and then you found us. Claude was going to kill me… I was counting the chimes of some clock… And then that man- William wasn't it? - came smashing through the window with some sort of red monster." Anya's breath hitched. "William… I think he stabbed me with some sort of spear. I thought I was dead, but then I started having this dream."
Anya described her dream to Sebastian, including the part about her voice telling her to wake up. The butler was still for a moment, and then began pacing.
"You dreamed that you were born dead? That's no small matter. I happen to believe that your dream was a real memory; don't ask me how. But if that's the case…" He stopped pacing and looked at Anya. Then he really looked at her.
"Please don't take this the wrong way," Sebastian started apologetically. "But are you entirely sure that you're a human being?"
Anya gaped at him. Her entire face flushed crimson, and she spun on her heel to exit the room. On her way out, she slammed the door just a little bit harder than was necessary.
"So she takes it the wrong way," Sebastian muttered to his precious cats, which had scattered at the scary noise. "Typical. I only meant that since that was her record… of course it was true. But to be born dead and still be alive… how interesting." The cat blinked, and sneezed again.
Anya stormed down the hall. Just what was he insinuating? She quickly arrived at the study door and rapped on it sharply with her knuckles.
"Come in," came a tired voice. Anya composed herself before entering; there was no need to burst in like an quarrelsome child. Ciel looked up from his desk as she entered, and abandoned his papers once he saw the cake.
"Good morning, young master," Anya chirped. She curtsied quickly and brought the dessert forward. "Sebastian made this for today's dessert. We all hope you like it." She realized that she had forgotten the plates and silver, but found them waiting on the coffee table. Darn that Sebastian! Is he psychic? Anya deftly sliced a piece of cake, careful not to disturb the gorgeous rose.
"Here you are, my lord. Happy birthday."
Ciel had been silent since his maid's entrance, and just blinked at the cake before taking a small taste. He even smiled a bit. Anya loved it when Ciel smiled, because it made him look so much younger and happier.
"My lord?" Anya ventured. Her knuckles were turning white from clenching her fists so tightly. "I know that you don't like to celebrate this day." She waved off Ciel's answer. "Please, milord, let me say this. We all want you to be happy, so we won't bring up any bad things. But we want to celebrate, because today is the day you were born. If today hadn't happened, where would any of us be?"
Anya had, of course, learned of Bard and Mey-rin's harsh pasts. They had helped her come to terms that everyone in this house had problems.
"Bard would probably be somewhere in America with no job, or he might even be dead now. Mey-rin would still be killing needlessly just to get by, and it would be breaking her heart. Finny… who knows where Finny would be? And I would have died in that storm if you hadn't taken me in. This day that you don't like to remember is so important to us, because it means we get to have you in our lives."
Anya took a bold step forward, almost touching the Earl's desk. "The others all have gifts for you, but there is nothing I could do to thank you for all you've done. The only thing I can think of is to continue serving you as well as I can. I promise that I will stay by your side and serve you for as long as I am alive, for I owe you this life. We all feel that way."
Ciel had been caught by surprise when Anya entered the study. He had actually been about to ring for her to discuss a matter that was very important to both of them; his visit to the Yard. Even so, her speech had moved him. Willing the light blush on his cheeks to disappear, he cleared his throat loudly.
"Anya, you don't know what your words mean for me to hear," he said. "There are other things we must discuss, however. You know that I had the Yard do some investigation in our case?" Anya nodded. "While we were there, I remembered to ask a certain officer about any cases from thirteen to fifteen years ago involving… runaway horses."
Anya flinched involuntarily. Why had Ciel asked about that? The case had been closed before Anya was born; there were no leads. All he was doing was opening up old wounds.
"I already told you everything about the case," Anya snapped bitterly. "My father was killed by an ownerless horse that was never found. The case went cold after only a few weeks."
Ciel slid a file out from under a mound of papers and pushed it across his desk to Anya. She gingerly took the paper in her hands. It was a report on a decade's worth of horse related accidents. The victims' names were printed in dark black ink next to the date of the occurrence. Anya's eyes scrolled down the page, looking for Ian Criel. She paused, shaking herself.
That was just a dream, no matter what Sebastian says. I never knew my parents' names.
"Which one is he?" she whispered. "I never knew their names; by the time I was old enough to wonder about it, everyone was avoiding me." She looked at Ciel with pleading eyes. He folded his fingers.
"Ian Criel."
Anya felt her heart stop beating for what seemed an eternity. She frantically searched the page again. There was no Ian Criel anywhere.
"No, he isn't on there," Ciel assured her. He produced a second document for her to examine. It was a short profile on a young man with long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail. His mischievous green eyes flashed at the camera, and he seemed to be looking right at Anya. The maid's breath hitched as she read the caption: Ian James Criel, 21. Cause of Death: Unknown.
"Your father was not killed by some horse, Anya. No one knows how he died."
Anya slumped forward, only just catching herself on the edge of the desk. "But," she croaked around the tears that threatened to spill over. "The Count always said-!"
"The Count lied to you, Anya." Ciel's voice was sharp, but a little distant. "In the past half a century, there hasn't been a single hit-and-run horse accident in London that hasn't been resolved."
Anya found one shimmering thread of sense floating through the chaos of her mind, and latched on to it.
"My mother," she slurred. "Was her name…? Amelia?"
Ciel actually looked surprised. "Why, yes. I thought you didn't know their…" He jumped. "Why is that name familiar?"
"Sebastian," Anya explained. "He called me that to keep Eugene away. I had this dream…"
After the lengthy explanation, Ciel rocked back in his chair. What Anya had dreamed sounded impossible, but how had her subconscious somehow conjured the names of both of her parents? He took Ian's file back from Anya, looking it over for more information. All it had was his birth information, marriage license, and general health information.
He sighed. Nothing useful here. He glanced at some birth records he had procured; Anya's time of birth, witness of birth, location of birth, parents, hair color, eye color…
Ciel whipped Ian's file back in front of his eye. Hair color: brown. Eye color: green.
"Anya," he enthused. "In your dream, Miss Tolliver said that you had your father's eyes, didn't she? Your father had green eyes. Yours are definitely not green; I don't think I've ever seen eyes quite like yours. This is proof that your dream must have been only that!"
Anya all but snatched the papers from Ciel's hands, scrutinizing the finer details of her birth. She looked up at Ciel, and grinned as widely as he had ever seen her.
"That's it," she cheered. "Ciel, you're an absolute genius! I never would have caught that." She clasped his hand in hers. "You don't know the load you've taken off of my shoulders, milord. Thank you!"
Ciel blushed. Anya noticed and withdrew her hand with a smile. She had begun to think that she was going mad! Now she relaxed into her chair, contentedly gazing out the window at the garden. The sky was cloudy, and the first snow of winter had just begun. Anya watched as the soft flakes began to settle on the branches of the new fir tree that she and Finny had planted. In seconds, it looked like a Christmas card come to life.
Except for the half dozen or so guns barely poking from the needles. Anya's brain kicked into overdrive. Her first instinct was to freak out, but she forced herself to retain her calm posture and facial expression.
"My lord," she said with strained nonchalance. "Forgive me."
She launched herself over the desk at her employer, tackling him to the ground as the window shattered above their heads.
Oooh, another cliffy! Well, you all should expect this by now. I'm just sadistic like that. Speaking of, don't ask me why Alois took Anya's dress; I simply don't know yet.
Moony: Are you gonna turn it into some sort of plot twist or something?
Hmmm... dunno. I don't want to really bring Alois back in... but I might. Who knows? Okie-doke! Merry Christmas, all you fanfictioneers!
Moony: And to all: R&R!