A tense and uncomfortable silence passed between them. The scratching of pen on parchment and the clattering of a tea cup were heard in great clarity. Ciel's jagged breathing as well was amplified. Arthur's wet his lips, still tasting the interjection he had spoken. It had surprised him as well.
"What do you mean I'm not sick?" Venice asked at length, looking group member to group member. He felt crowded by sullen and dark eyes. Arthur's sparkling green ones had lost their shine as well, leaving little comfort. For Venice his whole world, built only within the walls of that apartment, was crumbling. His expedition outside of the home on those rare occasions now seemed like distant dreams. Ciel looked far weaker than he felt.
Sebastian relinquished his hold on Ciel when the boy had regained enough strength to sit up straighter, pulling on a shaky grin. "What do you mean, Venice? How sick are you? How long have you been sick? Think, now…"
Venice scrunched up his shoulders and stared at the tattered rugs beneath his feet. A look of contemplation contorted his face.
"Well, several years ago I ran out of the house for reasons that I don't remember, and when I came home I felt unwell… But it wasn't until a few days later that my sickness had been announced."
"And…You are older than me," Ciel said, understanding all at once. The gears shifted into place, burning up quickly. "So you couldn't have been young enough to have a faulty memory. Your recollections must have been altered!"
"No!" Venice said passionately, standing. "No, I remember my childhood! I remember living in here!"
"Name a specific memory," Arthur said.
Ven opened his mouth, ready to relay a race with a friend or some glimmering, healthy moment before his sickness. No words came.
"Exactly," Arthur grinned.
Ciel clutched the ring on his finger, rubbing its smooth ornament. "So you have been tricked. Something must have happened that forced you, a genteel figure, running out of the house fast enough to cause you to trip." Ciel took a breath, "something so bad that whoever caused it was forced to chase after you and to give you that butler."
"You're suggesting then that someone ordered Dante to create a contract with Venice?" Arthur turned towards the kitchen, where the butler stood at hand, his eyes forwards and his lips pale. "Bly me… Come here, you damned butler."
Dante obliged, walking forwards smoothly. Venice appeared in shackles. He held his head in his hands and sat down heavily, placing his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes, trying to consume the knowledge without choking to his bitter death.
"Now, this is an order from your most powerful and most capable master." Arthur said, curling his lip and glowering in disgust. "I want you to tell me your motives with this boy and I want you to tell us exactly what happened on that fateful day he happened to bind himself to you."
"Yes, my lord," Dante responded, hesitantly.
"Wait!" Ven interrupted hysterically, "I order you not to! I don't want to know! Can't I go back to living like normal?"
"Y-yes my lord," Dante, or Zadig, said, writhing.
"Listen to me you buffoon," Arthur snarled back, rising furiously, "Phantomhive here is sick and he might die right here in this very spot. I haven't the faintest idea what this would do to you back at your homeland, for loosing such a precious soul, but I'm certain it will be terribly brutal. Notwithstanding, I will be less cruel, so tell us! I don't care what your motives are!"
"Why do you even want to know?" Venice shot back, his lips trembling. This was a major breach of respect for an elder. He was crossing a fine line and he felt pain ricocheting through ever corner of his body, damaging the parts it afflicted like burns. "I say no!"
Dante grabbed his head, his body trembling. His gaze wavered from one master to another. What happened to him was exactly like a machine going haywire. When one possible conclusion was reached, it was counterfeited with another and back and forth it went incessantly. Dante, or Zadig, was incompetent for the job.
Sebastian, who outranked him in skill, watched in pity. Meanwhile, the two argued. With every piece of foul language and harsh tones Arthur said, for he was prone to doing such things when riled up, Ven recoiled back. Ven was not used to arguing and thought that this was the worst possible moment to draw back.
Simultaneously, two doors sprung open. At the front door was Rockwell, portly and ruddy with exertion. At the other was Lock, screaming more orders at the butler.
"Hector! I command you to stop at once!" He pulled down his shirt over his elbow, revealing the seal to be hidden there. For most it would have been a dreadful spot, but for him it was just fine. No one had seen his shoulder bare since his wife last took off his shirt, begging to wash it off.
"What in the—?" Rockwell said, shutting the door behind him. His eyes landed on the trembling Phantomhive who stopped paying attention and honed in on keeping consciousness. "What are you two doing here? I told you Lock has powers greater than you can imagine!"
"But you seem to have overlooked that while Hector is a brilliant servant, I am one hell of a butler." Sebastian said and a hush fell over all of them. His red eyes stared at Rockwell and moved towards Lock, finally landing on the broken, twitching figure of the other butler. "When I attacked you, Rockwell, you pulled a vial from your pocket, making as though to drive out the gun there. You dabbed your finger in its contents and touched the wall. The contents were poison." He neared Rockwell, driving the man against a wall with watery, fearful eyes. "Poison cannot hurt me so you placed too much. My master is now dying a painful death because you wanted to protect your line of business."
"You're mad!" Rockwell gasped, resuming his position of being pinned against the wall as he had a month or so back.
"No, but you two are." Sebastian looked at Arthur and Venice, both breathless. Ciel fainted and dropped to the floor like a ragdoll. Sebastian collected him quickly and leaned him against the couch, feeling the clammy and cold hands with little to no pulse at his fingertips.
"I discontinue my order, Dante," Arthur said.
Dante twitched again, but regained some of his color.
"And I mine," Venice muttered.
"I join in with that motion." Lock said, watching Sebastian. All eyes pinned on him, waiting for an answer, a solution to the dilemma. Lock wanted Sebastian to leave him and Rockwell's business alone. Ciel wanted to live. Venice wanted to curl up on his bed and weep for all the lost years with drug-induced sickness. Arthur did not know what to want.
"Now, what I want you all to do: find an antidote for my master." Sebastian said.
A din of noise came up, all claiming to have the rights to a solution first. Lock wanted them out, not giving two cents whether or not Ciel died. Rockwell wanted to be freed. Arthur argued against them.
"You selfish swine! Don't you realize a little boy is dying at your selfishness?" He said, writhing with injustice.
Venice went over to Ciel, touching his cold shoulders, sometimes overcome with waves of heat. "Perhaps…" he muttered, examining Ciel's condition, "Perhaps some of my medicine would do." He stood and rushed to his father's room. He dug through the drawers, feeling drowsy again. Missing his afternoon nap sapped him of strength. Raising his hands felt like raising anvils. Empty doll eyes with hollowed backs piled up in a corner, their dresses torn in various areas to expose the backs.
Venice found a vial with his name written across it, along with a spoon. Ready to bring it back to Ciel and listening to the endless arguments, he paused by the dolls. Their empty sockets in the back were lined with gooey red material, dripping down the sides and accumulating on the floor.
So absorbed in the grotesque display, he did not notice the sudden silence and the thudding of feet towards him. Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him, turning the boy around to face him. The vial slipped from his hand in shock. The spoon clinked against it and clattered. The vial shattered, spraying the ground with the antidote. Ven bent to pick the shards up but Lock pulled him upwards violently.
"What are you doing in here, Venice?" Lock growled, chucking him out the room. "Pay no mind to them, they are a failed experiment."
Venice's hands were stained with some of the liquid and he rushed to Ciel, placing his most heavily stained finger into the boy's chilled mouth. It felt strange and sent peculiar shivers down Venice's spine but he refused to notice their presence. "Just a moment longer…" he muttered, putting in a different finger, "And so help me if this doesn't work…!"
Ciel stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Ven smiled and stood. Ciel's eyes widened and he cried out. Everything went black for Venice when a heavy blow came across his head, knocking him silly and to the ground.