Author's Note: A big thanks to A Darker Heaven/Touch of The Wind, The Shadow Flower Ninja, Ashley Antwolf, Melanie Malfoy and Leah for the reviews. Hope you guys like this chapter :)
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Earl Phantomhive looked at his guests, putting down the chess piece and frowning. He shook his head and looked his unexpected guests over, no emotion showing in his eye. Then he turned to the butler, who had a smirk on his face.
"Sebastian..." he started, but was interrupted again by the woman.
"Ciel..." Rachel said, taking a step closer, "Is... Is that really you? W-What happened to your eye...?" She extended a hand and took a step closer, "Ciel..."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting guests," the boy said, with a formality that shocked Vincent, "But that still doesn't make up for my lack of manners."
Vincent looked over his son as he stood up. He was taller, wearing clothes that he couldn't remember ordering for him. His hair was slightly longer, his left eye hidden by a black patch... No smile. It was his son, Ciel Phantomhive, but something had changed. He stood there, with pride he didn't have before; pride that no ten year old, no child, could have. There was an air around him, an aura of pure darkness, and a sadness that Vincent wasn't sure he wanted to understand.
And then there was the butler, by their side, who stood with a smirk. The two had exchanged glances. Vincent was no fool, they knew something. And Ciel, just like the butler, Sebastian, knew exactly who they were. He was playing the role of the Earl... What did that make them, then?
"I don't have time to keep you company right now, since I'm busy with paper work for my company," Company? What company? "And I'll have my afternoon lessons later, isn't that right, Sebastian?"
"Yes, Young Master. I'm afraid you won't be able to get out of it this time." Again the two exchanged knowing glances.
"But I assure you I'll be at your side during Dinner and will make up for my rudeness."
"C-Ciel..." Rachel started.
"It's not your fault, Earl," Vincent said, playing along. He looked at Rachel, hoping she would follow his lead. She didn't want to. This was their son, why should she pretend they didn't know each other? Her child; the boy she gave birth to... Treating her like a complete stranger! Vincent was not happy either, but it was clear Ciel was not willing to drop the act. It would be better to just play along. "We arrived without warning."
"It's my job to always expect the unexpected," Ciel replied, "You are too kind."
The boy was ice. It was in the way he looked at them, the way he spoke to them, the way he held himself. A perfectly calculated indifference, befitting of the Queen's Watchdog. Vincent knew that expertly crafted chill well, had worn it more often than he liked himself. It disturbed him more than he could describe to see his little boy now clad in it.
Beside him, Rachel was shaking with the effort to restrain herself. She knew she was jeopardizing them. She'd encountered one or two bizarre situations in her time married to Vincent and was more than aware that composure was crucial. This was different, however. This was personal to her. This was Ciel.
Vincent and Rachel jolted as someone knocked on the doorframe, neither having noticed anyone approach behind them.
"E-Excuse me?"
"Ah, Meirin. Please show our guests to their room." The butler looked through them, plastic smile curling his lips as he addressed the woman standing behind them. The maid, clearly, if her clothing was anything to go by. She peeked through round, wire-rimmed glasses curiously, and a deep flush descended on her when Sebastian spoke.
"Y-Yes, Mister Sebastian! Please follow me." She turned to the couple, bowing slightly before turning on her heel and walking out of the room. Well, walking probably wasn't the correct word. More like stumbled, since her feet seemed to work independently from her body and she couldn't take a step without tripping over something.
Vincent adopted his business smile, inclining his head to his son, though the boy had long since turned his attention back to his desk, and steered Rachel from the room by the elbow. She hadn't made a move to leave, had that look on her face that spoke of confrontation. They were barely out the door before it swung shut, lock sliding into place with a resounding click.
The couple followed the bumbling maid as she showed them around their own home, hands locked tightly together. Unease enveloped them to a smothering degree. Dinner was certainly going to be an interesting affair.
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Sebastian raised his hand until the footsteps had completely faded from outside the door. Before Ciel could even begin to speak, he shook his head.
"I do not know."
Ciel's hand tightened on the arms of the chair, knuckles white.
"Are they... real?" His voice didn't shake, didn't even waver a little, and he was glad for it. His face remained as blank as it had when his parents had been in the room, perhaps had gone even blanker. Good. It would not do for the Demon to see how shaken he was.
"If by real you mean of flesh and blood, then yes, they are real." Sebastian crossed the room, moving to stand in front of Ciel's desk. His eyes had that ethereal glow to them and he forced himself to meet them steadily.
"Then look-a-likes of some sort, an attack on the company?" Ciel ventured, knowing how weak an attempt it was before the suggestion had even left his lips. How nice it would be if this was something as simple as rival companies.
"I'm afraid not, Young Master. This has a certain... Underworld quality to it, I think."
As always, Sebastian's words were double-edged swords, and Ciel did not miss the amused tone when he said the word. Not in the mood for word games, Ciel snapped, "My underworld or your underworld?"
Sebastian chuckled.
"Yours. Really, they came knocking on your door. I'm certain mine would be a fraction more subtle."
Ciel worried his lip between his teeth, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts were racing and he could feel his composure slipping through his fingertips, harder to grasp than smoke. He was too aware of Sebastian's eyes on him, watching carefully and seeing more than Ciel was comfortable with. He lowered his hands, which had buried themselves in his hair without his consent, back to the armrests of the chair. Clearing his mind, he took a single deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, monotone, giving nothing away. Those eyes could look all they wanted, but they would only see what Ciel allowed him to see.
"Then what can it be? Zombies, or something of the like?" It was an absurd suggestion but then again, if someone had told him that a Grim Reaper was going to take a chainsaw to a handful of prostitutes, he'd have thought that absurd too. It was always best to hedge his bets.
Sebastian scoffed. Apparently he disagreed.
"Really, Young Master, you're reading too much of that Mary Shelley again. Next you'll be suggesting vampires."
Ciel's brow furrowed.
"Vampires aren't real?"
"Simply Demons with bad press-"
"Stop distracting me! Back to the matter at hand... you really have no idea what this could be? And I mean no idea, be it human, supernatural, a jolly fat man from the South Pole, or whatever other possibility it could be."
Sebastian inclined his head.
"No idea at all, Young Master. In all my years, I've never come across something like this. However, I can assure you of one thing," at this, he met Ciel's eye, and his were a blazing red, "they are Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive."
The young Earl looked at the chess pieces on his table. His posture and face showed no emotion as he reached out for one of the pieces and examined it carefully, as if it held all the answers to his questions. Finally he looked up again, seeing that the Demon had not moved, and leaned back.
"This may have something to do with the case the Queen asked me to investigate," he said, "Whatever it is, we'll handle it like usual. Arrange a carriage for us tomorrow, so we can visit the Undertaker, he may have some answers. We'll stay in London for some time. Considering this deals with the dead, I suspect we'll be hearing from those Shinigamis soon." He made a face, clearly showing his opinion on the idea.
"Yes, that would be unpleasant indeed," agreed Sebastian, blanching.
"We'll treat them like any other guests," Ciel concluded, "Sebastian, I want you to cook dinner tonight. The night will be enduring enough without Bard's 'cooking'."
"Yes, Young Master," the Demon said with a wry grin.
"What?" Ciel asked, annoyed.
"It seems to me that the Young Master is getting a little soft soft," he said, and there was a certain undercurrent of something in his tone, something Ciel couldn't quite place, "Did seeing your parents affect the Queen's faithful dog?"
"Don't be stupid, Sebastian," he said "I'm Earl Ciel Phantomhive, owner of Funtom Company, the Queen's Watch Dog... The last thing I am is soft." He picked up a chess piece and met his butler's eyes, "We'll need them on our side. We'll keep them happy until we have all the information we need," and with the one in his hand, he knocked down another chess piece on the chequered board, "And then we'll get rid of them. Understand?"
A smirk. He knelt down on the floor and placed a hand where his heart supposedly lay, bowing his head to the young boy in front of him.
"Yes, My Lord."
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Rachel and Vincent let themselves be guided by the maid. At every turn, at every corner, it became even more clear that this mansion was not the one they left behind. This was the mansion of a lonely soul who dedicated himself entirely to his job. A mansion of someone who was cold and hard, who would not allow anyone else to see his weakness.
It was Ciel's Mansion.
"This will be your room." said Meirin, finally stopping. Vincent smiled and thanked her, earning a blush from the maid. Rachel also thanked her, and the maid bowed down, clumsily, and excused herself. Rachel nodded and entered the room.
The first word that came to Rachel's mind was impersonal. There was something almost clinical about the room they'd been given. Oh, it was immaculate, of course. Not a speck of dust tarnished any surface. All the candlesticks were polished to an attractive sheen. Every portrait, oil paintings of landscapes she'd never seen, was completely symmetrical, not an inch askew. The room was comprised of modest colours, toned-down reds, blues and golds, regal and designer. It was a perfectly nice room, no doubt about that.
But where were the framed portraits of Ciel and Lizzie playing in the garden, or the one of her and Ann at Ann's first ball, or even one of Rachel and Vincent on their wedding day? Where were the scattered toys and plush teddy bears that Ciel always left strewn all over the floor, just waiting for Sebastian to sink his teeth in to? Where were Vincent's books, he always left one or two in most of the rooms so he could just pick one up no matter where he was in the Manor.
This room was nothing but a display. The whole mansion was nothing but plastic, cold and unfeeling, there to be looked at. No one lived here.
"I don't understand," Rachel said, "I don't understand it at all! Ciel... Why was he acting like that? What happened to him? His eye! When did he get hurt? And who is that butler?"
"Sebastian, it's what Ciel called him," Vincent said, shaking his head, "And I have yet to see the real Sebastian."
"That does not answer my questions. What happened to our son, Vincent?"
"I'm not sure... But he was acting like a true Phantomhive. Like the Queen's Watchdog should." As he said that, no pride or happiness came over the man's face; only sadness and regret. He'd always known his son would take his role. It was his legacy, after all, a responsibility that came with the wealth and connections, the perks of the high life. However, that wasn't supposed to be until Ciel was an adult, at the very least, and had been thoroughly instructed by Vincent on the job.
Ciel was a child. To see him with that collar around his neck sickened Vincent to his stomach. He was no Watchdog. Ciel was a puppy, at best.
Rachel opened her mouth to respond but she was beaten to it by a firm knock on the door. They both fell silent instantly, moving to each other's sides before Vincent called for the person to enter. The person who did was not an unfamiliar face, though there was something very different about him from the man they remembered.
"Tanaka," Vincent breathed, just the sight of his old friend enough to send waves of relief through him. But as with everything else that day, first sights were deceiving. This was Tanaka, as sure as he was Vincent, but there was something distinctly un-Tanaka about him. He seemed shorter – well, he was getting on in years, it wasn't that strange for people to shrink with age – and there was a dullness to his once sharp eyes – again, it could just be age, right? But, and Vincent felt himself growing dizzy, he'd only seen Tanaka yesterday, hadn't he? Age accounted for the changes, maybe, but Tanaka couldn't have aged so much in a single day.
And neither could Ciel, who was undoubtedly taller, had shed some of his puppy-fat, sat in Vincent's chair and looked like he belonged there.
This time, it was Rachel who kept her poker-face while Vincent felt like he was drowning in his racing thoughts and confusion. She gave a sharp squeeze to his arm, a silent warning to keep calm, and addressed Tanaka with a warm smile.
"Hello, Tanaka."
Tanaka stooped into a polite bow, arms full of towels.
"Good afternoon, Sir, Ma'am. I've brought towels for the bathroom. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask," the elderly man said, walking into the ensuite and putting the towels away. He made to leave the room again, but Rachel swooped in front of him, kicking the door shut while still smiling at Tanaka.
"There is something else, actually. Can we steal a few minutes of your time?"
Tanaka seemed completely unfazed by being locked in the room, as Rachel had assumed he would. After all, the Phantomhive hospitality was a flawless one, and there was no way guests would be sent to a room that wasn't right down to the last detail, towels and all.
"Of course, Ma'am. What can I do for you?"
"I just need answers to a few questions. I won't keep you long. First, could you tell me what year it is?"
There was a long pause before he spoke again.
"1888, Ma'am."
When the words left the older man's mouth, Vincent's eyes widened. 1888? No, that couldn't be! It was 1885, Ciel's tenth birthday was soon to come and... And if what Tanaka said was true, then that meant that three entire years had passed since Vincent and Rachel's last memories. It didn't make any sense but...
But it did at the same time. Tanaka looked older, and so did his son. The mansion was different, the garden, the new servants... But still, three years was a long time. And why couldn't they remember anything from the past three years? What was going on?
"Impossible," said the woman, shaking her head, "No, this can't be... That would mean..."
"I understand how shocked you must be right now, Ma'am," Tanaka said, "But please understand, that the Young Master is even more surprised about seeing his deceased parents back after three years.'
If Vincent wasn't surprised before, he as sure as hell was now. This new piece of information came at him worse than a big cannon ball coming at high speed. Deceased? As in dead? Well, that must be it, the man did not know of any other way you could be deceased. And for three years? Yes, it made a little sense that three years had passed. All the changes couldn't have possibly happened over night. But... but dead? As the Queen's Watchdog, or maybe former Watchdog as of three years ago, Vincent found himself in quite a few of unpleasant, painful and even downright disturbing situations. But never did he think he would die and then come back. Those kind of things did not happen... right?
"D-deceased?" He didn't even realize he was speaking until the words fell from his lips. One glance at his wife and he could see that the woman was having just as much of a hard time digesting this information.
As the good butler he was, Tanaka helped Rachel to the bed and asked if she desired anything; water, wine, maybe she wanted the window open to get some fresh air? But the woman just shook her head and looked at her husband, fear and confusion in her giant blue eyes.
Deceased... They'd been deceased for three years. The coffins and the Undertaker's words came back to Rachel's mind. He said it had been a long time since their last visit... Could that last visit possibly have been...?
Rachel was feeling even more ill, light-headed and certainly ready to faint. However she tried to keep herself strong. She needed to digest this information, she needed to know what happened and, most importantly, she needed to know how Ciel was.
Three years alone. That child, their child, had spent three years as an orphan, working as much, or even more, than an adult should, and being forced into a collar that was still too big for him.
"What..." she asked once she finally found her voice, "What happened? How did we... die?"
Tanaka looked at Vincent and then back at Rachel. He glanced at the door once and then closed it before taking in a deep breath and looking straight ahead, the same look he would wear when reporting the latest events to Vincent or reading a letter from the Queen.
"It was during the Young Master's tenth birthday. The mansion caught on fire. It was an attempt to execute the two of you... Unfortunately, it worked. The Young Master was taken away that night, and we all thought he had died as well and his body destroyed in the fire. However, many months later, the Young Master came back, with Mister Sebastian by his side, and a missing eye." He paused, and looked down, and Vincent could tell his butler and friend felt an immense guilt over what had happened to his son... But right now, his fatherly instincts didn't allow him to feel any sympathy for the man. All his thoughts were focused on his son, and the fact that he went missing for months.
"What happened?" Rachel quickly stood up "What happened to Ciel? And what did that man... That-That Sebastian... How did they meet? And who is he?"
"I cannot answer that, Ma'am." Tanaka looked down in shame.
"Why can you not answer, Tanaka?" Vincent asked. He was more composed than Rachel, but he knew he was walking a thin line. It wouldn't take long for him to fall and crack like his beloved wife.
"Because I do not know," he answered, "The Young Master will not speak to anyone about what happened during those months or how he met Mister Sebastian. He only said that it was Mister Sebastian who rescued him. The Young Master left it clear he has no idea where or to whom Mister Sebastian worked before... But he has the Young Master's complete trust, and is definitely worthy of being a Phantomhive Butler."
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