OK. So, here's where things start getting... henky. Twisted. Interesting. ^.^ From here on out, Rated M for Mature.

I don't own Black Butler or its characters, plot references, or in any way represent the opinions of the owners/writers/etc.

Many of you have been inquiring about clearing up some facts from Libera Me. This story WILL touch on those subjects-be patient:) Also, I apologize if the characters seem a little OOC... I am writing from a completely different perspective than the anime/manga. This is some years in the future and while I think I still have them pretty dead on, I'm sure someone will notice something I've missed. If someone seems particularly OOC, I will provide an explanation, I assure you.

Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome!

Elizabeth was drying Menefer's hair with a plush terry towel when the phone rang. The woman started at this new sound, shrill and frightening to her ears, Lizzie was sure, but she patted her on the shoulder and smiled, and hoped that she realized it was nothing to be afraid of. She left the woman on the vanity stool in her bedroom and went downstairs to the phone in the foyer, catching a glimpse of an exhausted Ciel collapsed on the chaise and smiled to herself that he could look so innocent even knowing what he'd become. She picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Ms. Middleford?" a deep male voice inquired, with a bit of Irish brogue.

"This is she. Can I help you?"

"I hope so, ma'am. This is going to sound incredibly strange, but two ...men were seen fleeing the museum earlier today... They seem to fit the description of Sebastian Michaelis and Earl Ciel Phantomhive-I believe you were acquainted with them in your youth?"

"Yes... I was betrothed to the earl when I was a child. Sebastian was his butler. But they disappeared thirty years ago. To whom am I speaking?" To her credit, her voice was steady and she hadn't told a lie... yet.

"My apologies, ma'am. My name is Detective O'Toole of Scotland Yard. Like I said, I know this all sounds too strange to be true-but I've twenty witnesses that described the two of them runnin' away from the museum with a mummy after breakin' the display case..." he was getting flustered, she could tell; his politely lilting voice was getting sharper and his Irish accent was becoming more plain. "Anything you could tell us about the matter would be a great help, ma'am."

"I know nothing about the matter, I assure you, Detective. I haven't seen Mr. Michaelis nor the Earl Phantomhive in over thirty years. And why the devil would you think it was those two? Wouldn't the Earl be in his forties? The butler far too old to steal a mummy and get away from the authorities? Are you looking for a man and a boy, or two old men, sir?"

"Ms. Middleford-" he started, his voice getting lower and more threatening.

"Indeed. Ms. Middleford and you'd take care to remember it. I still wield sufficient political sway in this town and if you are accusing me of knowing something about this ridiculous heist from the museum-reportedly carried out by two immortal men-you, my dear detective, are committing career suicide. I know nothing. Good night, sir." And she dropped the earpiece back into its cradle. Ignoring the urge to pat herself on the back for her excellent acting skills, she turned to make her way back up the stairs to her guest, but a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye distracted her and she turned back toward the parlor where Ciel was asleep on the chaise. He wasn't there.

She brushed it off and turned once more to the staircase, but Ciel was on the third step, blocking her way. She started but quickly calmed, seeing the look on his cherubic face. "What is it, Dearest?" she asked, closing the gap between them. She stopped on the first step, but it was sufficient enough that he still towered over her and she had to admit it was somewhat thrilling to have him look down on her like this after all these years.

"I wanted to thank you, Eliza-Lizzie," he corrected himself quickly.

"You've already thanked me," she assured him, but whatever she was about to say next caught in her throat as he reached out and cupped her face in his palm. It was the sort of affection she had only ever dreamed of receiving from him; and she knew he understood the confusion on her face because of it.

"Lizzie," he whispered. "I'm torn. I never dreamed I'd have these sorts of emotions when I was human, let alone after I'd been... transformed. And to have you back, here before me a glorious woman that I cannot touch-it's far more painful that I'd imagined. I am grown man. I have the rages and lusts and pride of a grown man. Yet I am forever a boy. And it pains me." His hand dropped back to his side and he closed his visible eye and took a deep breath.

She reached out and took his hands in hers and held them against her chest. "You have always been a grown man, my dearest Ciel. Even when we were children, you were an adult. After your parents died and you reappeared with Sebastian, you were changed, then. Not unlike how you've changed now. You have always been a raging, prideful man trapped in a boy's body. The only thing new to the equation is that your lust for success has grown into a different sort of lust. And I cannot fault you for that, because you are a man. And I have always loved you."

He forced himself to meet her gaze again, those huge shining green orbs that were glistening with tears as she stared at his face. Of course he knew she had always loved him. That had sometimes been her only redeeming quality-but would it be too presumptuous for him to want her now? Wouldn't it be entirely too weird? She was forty-five (but so was he) and though she could pass for fifteen years younger, he was even still half that age in appearance. "I am sorry, Lizzie, for it seems I've only now realized how much I've loved you... and there's not much to be done about it at this point."

It was her turn to cup his face and brush the hair back from the right side of it where it hung so haphazardly over his eye patch. She smiled a painful smile, her face now streaked with tears, and leaned forward, pressing her full lips to his forehead. She didn't say another word, dropping his hands finally, and gathering up her skirt, she sidled past him on the staircase and back up to her waiting charge.

Ciel stood there for some moments; and eventually losing track of time, he sat down on the stairs and stared at the front door, waiting for Sebastian to return while he played out the ill-fated fantasies in his mind.

Lizzie was relatively certain that, though Menefer didn't speak English and Elizabeth didn't speak ancient Egyptian, they had a solid understanding of one another. After the third stroke through the thickest, curliest hair she'd ever beheld, Lizzie handed the brush to Menefer who looked quizzically at it, then her. Lizzie mimed the motion on her own hair and Menefer immediately smiled and applied the technique to her own. Rubbing her tired eyes and wondering for the hundredth time if Paula was ever coming home, she decided she needed a hot bath and sleep more than anything.

The guest bedroom where they were and Lizzie's room were conjoined by a huge marble bathroom and she made her way to that door while Menefer was contentedly brushing her hair. The brown eyes caught her own in the reflection of the vanity mirror and suddenly seemed mildly panicked. "It's alright, dearest. I'm going to take a bath. Like you had earlier..." and she mimicked the scrubbing motion she had done on the bronze beauty before and Menefer's face lit up and she nodded, going back to brushing her hair. Lizzie shut the door to the bath behind her, but quickly thinking better of it, opened it again and left it cracked. She could still see the priestess in the dimly lit bedroom, and she heard the door downstairs open and close and heard Sebastian's baritone voice in the foyer. She turned on the tap to fill the tub with hot water and Sebastian's voice faded under the new noise. She checked once more on Menefer and satisfied that she would be brushing that mop of hair for quite a while, began to strip.

"We have a contract, sir. A London-based banker is setting up shop in New Orleans. He wants to be successful. It's possibly the easiest contract I've ever held. But we will be relocating. And seeing as he has no need for a butler, I suppose it's time I showed you my old home. We'll take a ship tonight across the Atlantic; I'm to start setting up his accounts as soon as we make port. He will follow in a week's time."

Ciel looked up at the butler from his seat on the staircase. "What about Lizzie?"

"With all due respect sir, what about 'Lizzie'?"

"The police are looking for us and they've already phoned here tonight. She's a marked suspect regarding our 'robbery'. I have the distinct impression they'll be knocking on her door first thing tomorrow."

"I think Mistress Elizabeth can handle the London police. Especially if there isn't any evidence of us left here by morning."

"I have a bad feeling about leaving her, Sebastian."

"Then I suggest you talk to her. I have no intention of abandoning her if it is as my lord wishes."

With a curt nod, Ciel stood. Brushing the wrinkles from his knee-breeches, he turned and made his way up the stairs to the guest bedroom. The door was open slightly and he peered in, seeing Menefer sitting at the vanity pulling a brush through her mane with a contented smile on her beautiful face. She caught sight of him immediately and her smile grew; she waved through the crack in the door and pointed behind her. He assumed she was telling him where Lizzie had gone. He pushed through the door and walked to the other, and seeing it cracked open as well, waited a moment before announcing himself. He lifted his hand to knock lightly and stopped in mid-air when he heard a terribly soft moan. Even Menefer seemed not to have heard it, as she continued her ministrations in front of the vanity mirror with a blissful look on her face.

He turned back to the crack in the door and listened for another moment. There it was again... Surely she wasn't injured. No... surely she wasn't... The color drained from his face and despite himself, he was peering through the crack of the bathroom door, imagination on fire.

She was in the tub, her back to him, her golden curls piled atop her head; head thrown back over the lip of the tub, eyes closed. He watched for scant moments and just when he thought he'd been mistaken, her back arched and her breasts appeared in his line of sight and he heard that same moan again, but this time drawn out, longing, and oh-so-erotic. And as he turned to flee as good sense told him he must, he swore he heard her whisper his name. He barely made it out of the room, into the safety of the empty hallway. He stood there, face in the corner, thinking of all manner of repulsive things to calm himself down. He'd never had such an experience-a reaction-in his life! To his chagrin, Menefer was laughing softly behind him and though he knew a demon should never blush, he could feel the blood in his face. So the priestess had known. What a twisted little lush, he thought. Just like Sebastian...

He managed to get his libido under control and made his way back to the upper landing and there he sat, waiting on Lizzie to finish her... bath.

Nearly a half-hour later she emerged, wrapped in a silk dressing robe that left little to the imagination-and Ciel had to admit to himself, if her face didn't look older than thirty, her body must have still been in its teens-and he felt that tell-tale burn of color in his cheeks as he averted his eye. He was still embarrassed that he'd caught her, and though some noble part of him wanted to confess and ask forgiveness, he didn't honestly see where that would benefit either one of them, so he said nothing.

"Menefer motioned out here when I got out of the bath. I assumed you needed me for something, Ciel?"

He coughed. Did he need her? Or was that wishful thinking on both their parts? "I... had a question for you, Eliz-Lizzie."

She hugged the silk around herself a little tighter, seemingly now self-conscious of her state of dress. "What is it, Dearest?"

"Sebastian and I are to leave tonight. We'll obviously be taking Menefer with us. But I'm not sure leaving you here to fend for yourself is such a grand idea... especially since the authorities seem to believe you have something to do with Sebastian's sudden lack of cognizance."

"I understand... Where will you be going?"

"New Orleans, apparently. He's struck a contract with a rising banker that's been uprooted from London. Sebastian actually owns a house there... It's a terribly long story. But should you want-and I believe it's for the best-you can come with us."

Elizabeth's face seemed to light up for just a heartbeat, then fall completely as reality struck home. "I can't ...just leave. Paula isn't home yet-"

"Leave her a note."

"I have obligations here in London-"

"Send instructions to your brokers when we arrive."

"I have the company to run-"

"You can do that from anywhere in the world, Lizzie."

"Ciel! It's just not that simple! You can't tear me away from everything I've ever known and-"

"Yes, I can, Lizzie! All you've ever known has been heartbreak! I destroyed you-I let you be destroyed! And I can give you a new life-somewhere away from the heartache and memories and pain that I caused you!" he was yelling now, and he knew that this impassioned outburst was unbecoming, but he didn't care. He trusted Menefer and Sebastian to stay out of this, and so they did-he heard two distinct doors close on both levels of the house in the silence that followed his tantrum.

She was crying now, as well she should, he thought. She stared at him with something akin to hatred and rage, but her eyes were soft and shining and though her lips were stiff against her teeth, they turned down at the edges with a sadness so deep, it broke his heart. He had done this to her... she wouldn't admit it, but it made no difference. And here the broken boy stood with all the confidence of the man he truly was, trying to right his wrongs. Her eyes closed and she sank to her knees, the carpet on the landing muffling her fall-and for a moment he thought she'd fainted-but she remained upright, one hand clenching her dressing gown shut and the other cupped over her mouth as she wailed.

He was inches from her before he'd noticed himself move, and his hands were in her hair, pulling it free from the pins she'd secured it with, and his actions startled her enough to move the hand covering her mouth and silence her cries for a moment. Those green eyes looked right through his soul-if he had one-and his mouth was on hers before either of them could protest.

Her eyes widened in shock, so close to that painfully blue eye he possessed, and having never kissed a soul in his life, to his credit, he was doing particularly well. Her eyelids drooped and seeing that as a positive thing, Ciel closed his eyes as well, living in that moment when their lips met and hers were excruciatingly soft, and seeing as this bridge had been burned, he slipped his tongue in her mouth and she gasped against him; he felt a hand curl around his shirt front and pull him closer, and growing bolder by the second, he decided he had a lot of bridges to burn that night.

Unfortunately, they were no longer alone. A shrill screech echoed all around the townhouse suddenly and Ciel and Elizabeth tore apart from one another; Elizabeth with shame written plainly across her face and Ciel with the vague nonchalance he had possessed since he was ten.

"Paula..." Lizzie muttered. "Paula, it's not what it looks like... Well, I suppose it is exactly what it looks like... but that's the point!" She shot to her feet and pointed at the earl. "It's Ciel!"

"NO SHIT?!" Paula screamed forgetting herself, her upbringing, her service to Elizabeth Middleford, and the guests of the house. Ciel had never in his life heard such an exclamation from a servant-good or bad-and his jaw dropped a fraction as he stared at the now elderly ladies maid. "I can see it's him, m'lady! My confusion is why is he here-and why is he still a teenager!"

"Paula! Language! And manners! If you'd calm down, I'd fill you in!"

"Ladies, please..." Ciel interceded. "Paula, you are a servant and have been your whole life. Conduct yourself as such. I don't care if you are twenty or sixty. Lizzie, do not condone her behavior. Both of you, to the kitchen where we can have this conversation like ...adults." He stalked between them and headed downstairs, the suddenly-extinguished fire in his blood now achingly empty and painful in his loins. "Sebastian," he called as he reached the foot of the stairs and the ever faithful butler's head appeared in the crack of the kitchen door.

"Yes, my master?"

Ciel decided immediately that Sebastian looked entirely too pleased about something. "Tea. Paula is home, incase you didn't hear."

"Indeed, my master. And may I suggest plundering Mistress Elizabeth's liquor cabinet, as well?"