Coattails

by The-Pied-Avocet

Adolescence is the dormant rose of winter: a prickled, ugly, tangled mess of vines and thorns, with flowers promised only in the distant spring. "Spring" seems so far off to the demon that must console his angry, hurting charge in the midst of puberty - but it will come, and not without a price that they both must pay.

34. The Bleat

Over the course of this past year, Sebastian found he had dedicated a fair bit of time to considering the definitions of 'child' and 'parent.' But what was the definition of an adult?

"'Adult, noun: among civilians, a person between fourteen and twenty-five years of age,'" Ciel recited, and snapped the leather cover of the hefty book shut between both hands. "There you are. That's the definition according to the intelligent minds of society. And I certainly trust a fellow human's definition over a demon's any day."

It was the morning of the sixth of November. Less than a week had passed since that first day of the month when tears had spilled, comforting had been granted — and Sebastian had promised that later the two of them could argue as long as Ciel wanted about whether Ciel was an adult or still a child. He should have guessed that the young master would take him at his word. Ciel hadn't just begun the old argument anew: he'd doubled down on his stance. A day couldn't go by without some new point being made in the favor of adulthood.

Sebastian did not comment on this latest counterpoint right away. He finished pouring an Assam blend over a nugget of rock sugar, placed the teacup on the desk, and then held out his open palm. "If you are permitted to use a dictionary as a proper source, then I should be allowed just the same advantage. May I?"

Ciel's reluctance to hand it over spoke louder than words. "I'm not lying about what it says," he grumbled, though he sounded halfway doubtful himself. Begrudgingly, he relinquished the book.

Before flipping to the 'A' section, Sebastian took a quick stop at the copyright page. "I see your definition comes from a sixty-two-year-old source."

The corners of Ciel's mouth twitched with chagrin, but he folded his arms resolutely. "So? That still has to be more recent than your definition."

The page with 'adult' was then located. " And it appears that you skipped over a sentence that defines an adult as, 'A person grown to full size and strength, or to the years of manhood.'" Sebastian glanced candidly over the top of the book. "Since the young master himself agrees he is not yet finished growing, I don't believe this definition serves you so very well anymore..."

Ciel looked away with a jerk. "Look, I never said I agreed with all of it."

"Yes, evidently not…" Sebastian frowned down at the paper again.

"But you have to admit that Websters' definition does include me." The boy sat up tall in the enormous office chair that, rather than make him look imposing, mostly served to shrink him. "And notice how it says ' between fourteen and twenty-five.' They even agree with me that not everyone is an adult at fourteen, just some of us."

"Young master, you know very well that Websters is referring to the range of ages at which a human typically completes adolescence and how that range varies greatly," Sebastian asserted, though the firmness of his tone came from a place of concern rather than annoyance. He wanted to give this the patience it deserved, but lately he felt the essence of time. "I believe the definition of adult here is a purely biological one, and it wouldn't have swayed me regardless. I am not going to agree that you are already an adult; you do not plan to agree that you are still a child. If you would like to keep speaking on it, that is up to you. However, my opinion is that since we cannot find common ground, I would much prefer we put this behind us."

As usual, even with only one eye visible, Ciel's glare was filled with enough contempt and injury for two eyes. "I'm not going to put anything behind me," he snapped. "I know I'm right, and you aren't going to convince me otherwise. Now go away and don't come back until lunchtime."

Sebastian tipped an eyebrow up, sad but fond, before bowing forward at the waist. "As you wish, my young lord."

Yes… they were in the middle of another rough patch. But when had they not been? Raising this boy had always meant facing his obstinate and reluctant nature. No victory went untainted, no success unfollowed by a setback. Rather than let discouragement overcome him, Sebastian rallied himself to keep rising to the challenge. Someday, he believed, peace between them would be possible, even if it took years to manage it. But oh, he felt the essence of time…

Ciel was reaching distress. The emotions and memories he'd kept buried for a long, long time had been fighting their way to the surface for much of the year now, no thanks to adolescence, and for Ciel, keeping himself from examining them had become a full-time job. This already difficult feat was rendered more so due to the fact the boy possessed several actual full-time jobs. Ciel was faltering under the weight of a workload he had once managed with aplomb, and that notion was leading to even greater feelings of distress.

But Ciel didn't want to talk about his feelings with Sebastian anymore. The day he'd cried in the bedroom and Sebastian had held him, let him feel loved, let him feel like the child that he was, had reopened a bevy of wounds, and Ciel was desperate to close them. Sebastian knew that was the real reason the "adult arguments" had started up again: for Ciel, it was a last line of defense between himself and his deepest pain.

"You said that if I talked about my emotions, I'd have more control over them, but it seems that I just have less," Ciel had told Sebastian on the afternoon of November the first, eyes downcast. "And your comforting is only worsening things. I can't let anything have that kind of power over me."

Such a declaration had broken Sebastian's heart. "Oh no, young master… Your tears are not the issue here," he'd said, and then moved to sit down in one of the library's armchairs, but Ciel had stopped him from doing so with a raised palm. Sebastian had halted in his tracks and swallowed down the sudden spike of trepidation. "Please listen. You are feeling vulnerable enough that your honest emotions can no longer be contained, and that vulnerability deserves to be nurtured, not scorned. It is only natural that your emotions are powerful things and that you would feel uneasy to let yourself experience them. It isn't a sign that something is wrong with you."

"What I'm saying is that your comforting is wrong," Ciel had explained. "It's making me act like a weak little child. And that's the last thing I can afford to be."

Sebastian had fought to turn this tide. "That isn't how I see it. You aren't weak, and you aren't little, but what I said before stands. Acting like a child, feeling like a child… those things are to be expected. You are still a child."

All traces of hesitation evaporated then. Ciel narrowed his gaze at him. "No, I'm not," he'd said. "But your mollycoddling can render me one temporarily. And that's exactly why I don't want it anymore. You need to respect me as the adult that I am and understand that I'm not interested in doing anything that makes me act childish." Ciel straightened his back. "So stop trying to get me to talk about my emotions all the time. It isn't making me feel in control like you promised it would. To be honest, I feel less in control of myself than ever."

"I know, young master, but if you avoid your own sadness—"

Ciel had put up a palm again. "Stop. I don't want to talk about it anymore. You promised you wouldn't force me to talk about things that make me uncomfortable, so you have to listen to me. Stop."

Thus, that day was the new beginning of the "adult vs. child arguments" and, for a second time, the end of the nightly meetings. It was the end of talking about feelings and being held. Ciel refused to look at the reason those things had been necessary in the first place: to, in fact, help him grow, not hinder him. In his apparent effort to finally be seen as an adult, he had twisted himself around and sprinted towards the comforting emotional repression that had defined the early years of their contract.

Sebastian knew it was only a temporary phase. It would have to come to an end sooner rather than later: it was entirely unsustainable and mainly a final attempt for Ciel to protect himself from his own hurt. Yet for every second they spent in this phase, Sebastian felt the essence of time, and he felt it for one very specific reason: Henri Fairclough.

Shortly after Lyle Reubin had returned home from Weston, Fairclough's letters had started to arrive at the Phantomhive manor with startling frequency. Once a week became once every day or two, and even though Sebastian was no longer managing the mail, he still saw Ciel's response letters sitting on the office desk, waiting to be sent off, and he had to pretend it didn't make him want to set fire to it all. The hypothetical flames were only fanned higher when Ciel attempted to use this correspondence as further proof of his adulthood.

It was lunchtime now on the sixth of November, and it seemed that dictionary definitions weren't the only way the young master was challenging Sebastian today. "It might interest you to know that Fairclough sent me a list of recommendations for new head butlers," he announced unprompted.

Sebastian had been unable to help it. He reeled around from the trolley, incredulous. " What?! "

This response delighted Ciel. He grinned wickedly. "He thinks you're impertinent, so he's trying to push me to have you replaced. Obviously, that isn't going to happen, but it's pretty amusing."

The idea that Fairclough would push Ciel to do anything made Sebastian's blood boil. "For what reason does he find me impertinent now? Have you informed him of your most recent endeavor to convince me that you're an adult?"

Ciel closed his eyes and sipped at his tea. "I think that's my business what I write to Fairclough about, don't you?"

It took effort, but Sebastian held his tongue firm. I'm a good parent for not sneakily reading his letters while his back is turned. A good parent, a good parent…

"Anyway, the reason he was even looking at strangers' credentials is because Fairclough himself happens to be searching for additional staff," Ciel continued, his butler's bitter silence like nectar for his proud mood. "He's currently in the market for a new townhouse. He plans to choose something in the London suburbs sometime this month."

Again, there was no tempering his shock. "Fairclough is going to move to London?!" Sebastian half-cried.

"Mhm. He says it would be convenient for his job." This practical statement was delivered with a notable helping of impudence. "But it also means I'll be able to visit him quite easily and often, if I decide to." He gauged Sebastian's dread, and his smirk faded to a frown. "Stop looking at me that way, your shock isn't funny anymore. I can't believe you still hold this negative opinion of Fairclough. You're the only one who's ever mistreated him. What has he done to you?"

"It isn't what he's done to me," Sebastian said coolly. "It's what he has done to you."

"He hasn't done anything to me!"

"He's attempted to drive a stake between us."

" And he insists that I'm an adult." Ciel shook his head, scoffing. "Your worst nightmare."

"Given recent developments especially." Once plated properly, Sebastian lowered the pheasant hash and sippets of toasted bread to the desktop. "Ultimately, I understand why you insist that you are an adult," he said. "I've come to know every single one of your arguments quite well. Because of the way that you act. Because of the work that you do. Because of your title. Because of your responsibilities. Because of the things that you've seen. Because of the things that you've done. Because of the way that life has treated you. Yes, I have been hearing you every single time you've challenged my opinion. It doesn't mean that you're wearing me down."

Ciel fidgeted, uncomfortable and angry. Sebastian recognized he might have been too flippant. He softened his tone. "You are a brilliant young man," he said, "and I know that your reasons for calling yourself an adult are not without a great deal of thought. Regardless, I can't agree with your definition. But I can agree that the reason you've decided you are an adult is sound. What I do not know, and what does continue to concern me, is Fairclough's reason."

"Well, I know it," Ciel huffed. "He told me it himself. He works with people my age for his job, and he recognizes firsthand that I'm more mature than the lot of them. I know you can't stand the notion that someone you consider an adult would side with me, but that's just the way it is."

Sebastian tightened one corner of his mouth. "Young master… You don't suppose he might just be saying what he knows you want to hear?"

"Of course I've considered that! You really do think I'm a stupid child, don't you?" With angry gusto, Ciel spooned up a heaping bite of poultry and carrot. "Obviously I'm no stranger to the odd sycophant who hopes I'll raise his status by association. But Fairclough's had his opportunities for that, and he hasn't taken them. He's hardly asked me for much of anything, honestly: I'm the one who's asked things of him. He probably deserves some benefit after all the help he's given me. But all he seems interested in is my friendship. Maybe someone like you can't understand that."

"You've said in the past that the only reason you were writing to Fairclough was to provoke a response from me," Sebastian said, steady but calm. "If that's still the case, then perhaps I ought not to be so surprised by what you've told me today."

Ciel flared his nostrils. "You aren't the only reason I'm writing to Fairclough anymore. You've made me see the value in people who respect that I'm an adult. Anyone who does is almost automatically worth keeping on my side."

Sebastian dipped his head. "Very well then. So be it."

Ciel scrutinized his butler for a few seconds. He didn't seem to like what he saw, but he dropped the subject. "Speaking of people who respect that I'm an adult, Cavendish wrote that there's been another stray Funtom delivery appearing at a civilian's home, but I don't have time to deal with responding. Take this letter to Tanaka and on your way."

Sebastian would have gone to Tanaka next regardless. In front of the senior steward, he could not hide his mood. He regaled the details of Fairclough's most recent letter as he'd been told them. "Trying to dismiss me from this household, purchasing a home nearby in London…!" Sebastian clenched his fists as he stood taut with rage in the center of the servant's office. "What in the world could Fairclough be up to now? And what are we going to do about it?"

Tanaka had returned him a careful look from his place behind the desk. " We are not going to do anything," he enunciated. " You are going to continue to let the young master see that his relationship with Fairclough isn't going to alter his relationship to you. No matter what comes to pass, he must identify you with trust above all else."

"I promise you, I'm trying my hardest to help him see." Sebastian frowned, looking upwards in the direction of where Ciel's soul was located floors above. He couldn't help homing in on it. His rage faded to concern. "I truly thought we had made a breakthrough together, but it wasn't enough…"

"Don't underestimate your efforts." Tanaka stood up behind the desk and squared his own shoulders, as if reminding Sebastian to stand proud too. "I know I do not have to tell you not to give up. So instead, I will remind you to have faith in your intentions: you are willing to care for the young master, and you are willing to listen and learn from your mistakes. As long as these truths remain, you can never fail him completely."

Sebastian looked at Tanaka with soft regard: Will I ever grow to possess this amazing ability to always know just what to say? A demon's sly spinning of words could not compare to this true mastery of reassurance; he still had much to learn. Sebastian bowed. "Thank you, Tanaka. I do not know what I would do without your guidance. I sometimes feel I have come to be reliant on it."

Tanaka beamed, a curiously wistful quality to it. "It is always rewarding to be needed," he said. "This is why one must never be ashamed to call for help. It is vastly preferable to be leaned on than to never have anything asked of you by the people you care about."

There was a resonance to those words. Even the old Sebastian could have agreed: it was better to be doing something than to be doing nothing. With that in mind, it was no wonder this current rebellion from Ciel was an especially grueling one. Sebastian had never had trouble waiting before, even when there was no end in sight. But the need to be needed… Sebastian felt it stronger than ever.

"Dinner is served," he announced on the evening of the sixth of November. The boy had scarcely left his office since lunchtime. It was surely time for a change of scenery. Coaxing him to come down in-person could help. "I've prepared you anguille au vin rouge over a bed of tagliatelle. You will certainly enjoy it best in the dining room while it is still hot."

Ciel groaned and stretched his arms high over his head, then frowned, sinking sloppily into his chair. "Bring it here instead. I still have too much to do."

Too much to do or not, Ciel had been in this room for nearly eight collective hours. That was enough for one day. Sebastian strode closer to the desk, and Ciel frowned at him, apprehensive of their proximity. Sebastian studied the sprawl of papers across the surface. He was strikingly aware it was nearly identical to how the desk had looked the last time he stopped by, and the time before that. "It doesn't seem that very much is getting accomplished…" he said; Ciel dodged his glance. "You're still having difficulty staying focused, aren't you? If you don't wish to talk about it, will you instead allow me to assist with your paperwork?"

"Forget it. I'll do it tomorrow instead." Apparently deciding he was less comfortable having Sebastian stay and analyze his unfinished business, Ciel stood and rounded the desk to leave. "Write to the professors and tell them both not to come after all. I haven't had any time for my studies."

Sebastian sighed out his nose, following after into the hallway. "You've cancelled your lessons every day for the past three weeks," he began, trying not to sound worried. "What a shame, as I know you liked working with Mr. Whitaker especially... and you seemed eager to return to your education, back in September. You know that Tanaka and I are happy to help you with anything related to the Phantomhive territory, and Mr. Cavendish can be trusted to act in your stead when it comes to Funtom. Let us put our efforts into minimizing your workload so you can prioritize your studies."

"I don't want to minimize my workload." Ciel glanced over his shoulder briefly as they continued onward down the halls. "We're approaching the Christmas season, a crucial time for sales. I always have the year's products delivered here so I can give my final sign-off. Plus, Lizzie will want to see the toys, too, so I have to do it. It's just a busy time of year. I'll return to my lessons when it's more convenient. Professor Hancey and Mr. Whitaker won't mind as long as they're paid."

Sebastian found the words he aimed upon his master's retreating back were naturally hushed. "… Very well, young master."

It was all too clear. Ciel wanted to fall. He wanted to slip out of the arms of his parent and drop to the earth while still a fledgling. Was there a more helpless feeling than to simply watch it happen? Oh, but it ached. To be an observer to these repeated bouts of self-sabotage, to be aware that Ciel rejected safety and love, and to know that he, Sebastian, was allowed to gather the pieces of his broken child only when Ciel lay whimpering on the ground… and then to carry that child to safety, to watch him fling himself to open air again… again…

No contract before now could ever compare. This was the challenge of lifetimes.

---

Their conversations before bed were all business now, just as they had been in the era before the arrival of the "sympathy beast."

"On Monday, I'm going to have a conference on the telephone with Cavendish," Ciel said as he held out his arms to be readied for his pajamas. "Make sure no one disturbs me then."

Sebastian removed the jacket and folded it over one arm. "I see. So you will cancel your lessons next week, too?"

"Yes. It's as I already told you. There's just no time right now."

"Very well."

"I'll work all weekend to make sure I'm ready to discuss the Christmas line with Cavendish. It'll be fine. I just have to make sure I read all the documents from the manufacturing and sales departments."

"Is there anything I can do to assure you have time to relax too?"

"Bring me tea and sweets whenever I ask. I'll need the fuel."

"You'll need more than that, sir. You'll need to take breaks — pushing yourself too hard will only serve to slow you down, not speed you up. And if we get a rare glimpse of sunshine, it will do you good to indulge in it."

"Just let me decide what I need. I told you I've had enough of your suggestions."

There was no heat to the boy's arguments, none of the ignition born from desperate fear. These words were plain and habitual. Ciel was trying to give up on being parented, trying to give up on imagining a world in which love would feel comforting to him. Sebastian would not ever, ever give up on his child.

"I am sad that we are no longer having our nightly meetings."

Sebastian spoke this just after tucking Ciel into bed. Seeing the boy lying there so small, he had decided to reveal something honest. Perhaps he was barred from asking about the young master's feelings, but it didn't mean he had to hide from his own.

Ciel peered up at his butler, blinking. His lips tightened before turning down at the corners. "Is that supposed to convince me to do something about it?" he grumbled, propping himself on one elbow.

"No." Sebastian took up the paraffin lamp. "It isn't 'supposed' to be anything. That is simply what I feel. I only wanted you to know it."

"…" Ciel sighed out his nose, gaze fixed on his feet beneath the blankets. "Look… I tried things your way for months, all right? I tried talking about sadness and… all that. But it never helped me to gain control. Just let me try something else. Let me focus on my work. When I do things your way, I start acting like a child, and I can't be a child when I have to work."

Sebastian felt pathos seep into his expression against his will. "It hurts you to feel like a child, even more than I'm bothering to understand, hm?"

"As if you bother to understand me most of the time." It was clear Ciel was wounded. "I tell you that I don't need a parent, but you keep insisting on it anyway! I just need you to be a butler. Sometimes when I'm upset, I act ways I don't want to, and then you take that as permission to be a parent again. I'm telling you to stop. Formally and officially. Stop trying to comfort me, stop trying to ask about my emotions, even when it seems like I'm upset. Just allow me to be who I am. Allow me to do things on my own. That's an order."

Sebastian bowed forward at the waist. "I'm sorry. I hear you. I shall stop trying to comfort you, and I won't ask about your emotions. Not unless you say otherwise."

"That's how it has to be," Ciel said, decisive, as if to convince them both. He sighed. "And now I feel awake again, no thanks to you. Leave the paraffin lamp as it is. I'm going to read for a bit instead."

"Yes, young master." Sebastian almost asked what the boy was going to read, hoping it wasn't a selection from Doyle that might cause nightmares, but held his tongue and instead said, "Goodnight, then. I shall see you in the morning."

"Hmf."

So there Sebastian was, standing out in the dark of the hallway yet again, defeated and alone.

Good grief! Sebastian gritted his teeth as he stormed away, irritated not with the young master but certainly with the circumstances. Would this back and forth ever end? It was the worst sort of monotony, seeing some progress and thinking Surely we're on the right path now, only to find that that progress was slippery, that the young master wanted to withdraw anew and leave Sebastian with no choice but to return to the drawing board.

Oh, it wasn't the boy's fault… Sebastian didn't blame him, no. But it was so frustrating … After all the work they'd done, this was what came from hugging the boy and holding him close! The aftereffects of grief, neglect, and suffering were on full display here. And once upon a time, that notion would have made Sebastian hungry to consider it!

Now, the circumstances only made him feel terribly tired and utterly defeated…

"I hope when circumstances feel difficult, what we talked about will come in handy. Know that I believe in you, but please do write to me if you are ever in need of a friend."

Like a ghost of a hand upon his shoulder, a recent memory whispered to him then. Sebastian's eyes widened with recollection. Agni… Agni had said that just before they left the townhouse, hadn't he? Sebastian had found those words rather amusing at the time. Now, a friend seemed like the very greatest thing to have.

The rest of the servants had gone to sleep. Below-stairs would have been pitch dark to anyone without a demon's vision, but Sebastian lit the little furnace in the servant's office anyway. He sat at the desk, situated paper and pen before him, and he began:

Dear Agni,

I hope this letter finds you well. As it is, things are not so well here. But amidst the sorrow, I remembered your kind suggestion to write you should I need support. I must admit, it is only recently that I first considered I might ever even need help the way that others do. I hope you'll forgive me my novice. It seems I do not take to lessons in friendship as readily as I do housekeeping.

There have been many trials since I last saw you. The young master continues to recede from comfort, even after we have had some successes. At this point, I have become familiar with this behavior. I know what I must do is wait for him to change his own mind. But what does one do while they wait? Sometimes my sadness feels too much to bear. I am not well-acquainted with this brand of impatience, and it pains me. I do not wish to rush the young master — I don't begrudge him his wariness to trust me — but I do curse the situation I find the both of us in.

I think the above illustrates my predicament well enough, so I shall stop complaining there. Last I saw Prince Soma, he seemed very well. You are so assured that I imagine you struggle very little with whatever trials life gives you. Regardless, your experience serves to teach me, and so if you are compelled, please share with me any of your own latest tribulations, however small. It's strange to describe, but I think it would be relieving to read of troubles that weren't my own. I hope I don't come across as callous.

And of course, inform me if the townhouse is in need of anything and it shall be sent for posthaste.

Regards and many thanks,

Sebastian

Sebastian looked at the paper. In his thousands of years of life, that was his first time writing a letter for the purposes of friendship. He hoped he'd done a fair job; he felt a little bit better having written it. He felt even better when he considered that Agni would soon respond. He shook his head, marveling. What a truly curious thing…

But the distraction served its purpose all too fast. Night was far from over… Well, there was always a full list of chores Sebastian kept easily in his head, and that could suffice to ward off his own sadness. Winter's arrival meant soon the brunt of his workday would center around keeping up fires. Terribly boring stuff… but the majority of rooms could be closed off to keep the flow of heat efficient, as long as the air was dry, and curtains could cover the doors to trap it even better. Now was the time to conduct final house inspections before any snowy weather could blow their way (there was no need for the embarrassing errors of August's hurricane to repeat themselves). And then it was also time to take stock of the final vegetable marrows that needed to be preserved, the remaining tomatoes to convert into sauces, the pears and filberts for future holiday meals…

Sebastian was in the middle of assuring that all the white muslin curtains in the house had been replaced with their darker winter sets of velvet or cotton when he felt an otherworldly arrival like a change in air pressure. It gave him a feeling like his hair standing on end, and of course his first instinct was panic — but then he remembered. Grelle! Could it be her? Had she returned with the report on Fairclough?

Sure enough, she had. He met her atop the roof's south end, where she stood gazing at the small light from the waning crescent moon, a hand on her hip.

"What a relief it is to see you," Sebastian said in earnest, and even bowed a greeting, he was so surprised. "I wasn't certain if you would ever return. I thank you for coming back."

Grelle only stared at him beyond the scarlet frames of her glasses, mildly shrewd. "Of course I came back. Do you think I file reports for my health? If I set about to do a task, I at least see it through! My time is precious and not to be wasted." With the hand that wasn't on her hip, she thrust out a thin folder at him. "Here it is: the results of all my labor. And you're lucky I've decided to show you in-person: this is technically a classified document. You're welcome."

Having seized the folder from her at once, Sebastian wrenched it open and studied the single sheet of paper that awaited him inside:

Henri Fairclough

Birthdate: 21st February, 1848

Birthplace: Charroux, France

Points of interest: No records at this time.

Sebastian felt a stillness inside of him. "This is really everything…?"

"Very likely why I received it so quickly and without pushback," Grelle sniffed. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, don't go looking so blue about it! This is already more than I expected, I told you not to get your hopes up."

"What were you expecting then?" Sebastian asked, disappointment becoming his tone. Perhaps there could at least be a frame of reference for why he received what little he did…

"I was expecting the French branch to reject my request entirely." Grelle switched between studying her cuticles and studying him as it suited her. "If there was anything of interest on his file, I doubt I'd be given permission to look at it." Grelle flicked the underside of the paper still in his grip. "The empty page doesn't exactly mean this Fairclough fellow's got a spotless record, mind you: It means we haven't been given any reasons to look into him. He hasn't 'changed the trajectories of any other souls' — meaning he's not murdering innocent people, directly or as an accessory, FYI — and to our knowledge, he's unrelated to immortal business."

Sebastian furrowed his brow. He wasn't yet sure if that was promising information. "If Fairclough had made a contract with a demon or any other immortal, that would have shown up on his file, then?"

"It should, anyway." Grelle shrugged with her arms out. "I've been told the records room is immaculate, but I haven't been given permission to see it for myself, and so I refuse to believe it. There are a lot of people in this world — keeping track of them all isn't easy! Reapers don't have time for this and that. We follow up on red flags when we see them, especially where demons and the like are involved, but we're busy! So take this report with a grain of salt, hm?"

It was more than a little disappointing… Sebastian laid a finger crosswise on his lower lip. "Well, thank you anyway. This is better than nothing… or perhaps better than something." He paused. He was sure the following words would fall flat, but he had to try. "You… wouldn't happen to be too busy to do some surveillance on Fairclough yourself, would you?"

A shark-toothed grimace was the response. "Of course I'm too busy for that! Do you know how many people live in the London suburbs these days?" Grelle snatched the folder out of his grip. Her arm disappeared behind her back and emerged anew with her scythe in hand. "I just barely got the chance to stop here on my way from some pretty little meaningless village in the South Downs. I passed these lovely white cliffs and farmhouses wedged into the green hills. Ever so charming and quaint. So you had better believe that if I had time on my hands, I'd be spending it there, and not alone either, darling! I'm not some simple errand girl to be sent off on your busywork! I've given you what I promised, and that's that. Maybe in the future, I'll let you know what you can do for me instead!"

Worked to irritation, Grelle then departed for the place that glowed subtle orange with city light on the horizon. Sebastian watched her until she could no longer be spotted. He sighed thoughtfully. So… Fairclough had no connections to immortals, or not one Reapers had picked up on. He wasn't a murderer either. Or at least likely not: Sebastian actually trusted Grelle, to his own surprise, but he had no way to measure the honesty of the other Reapers. The value of their paperwork could be utterly meaningless. But it could as well be utterly correct.

Henri Fairclough… are you really just a normal human?

---

Dear Sebastian,

What incredible timing you have! I myself was just about to write you.

As you know, Prince Soma and I have lived in England for nearly two years now. We certainly plan to stay for as long as Lord Ciel's generosity is extended to us, but my Prince has begun to pine for India's warmer weather. A journey home is not one we can manage lightly, however, and so we have decided to travel to Valencia instead, where we plan to stay for nearly a month. We shall depart in a week. My Prince wishes to assure Lord Ciel that we shall return in time for his fifteenth birthday. What an exciting age to be!

Your letter is a gift to receive. It is my first one from you, you know! I will treasure it dearly — I know it was not a happy letter you sent me, but I must admit, it made me smile. You and Lord Ciel are so alike that it is precious to see. You are both learning to put your trust in others at the same time! Truly, you are well-suited for each other.

You imagine I struggle very little, but I can understand your perspective more closely than you know. Worrying is hard work, especially towards children who do not worry about themselves nearly enough. You might recall how much stock I put into fearing for my Prince's lost naivety when he learned the truth about Mina. But I only brought myself more grief when I struggled to prevent his sadness. And what a beautiful moment it was, when we cried together at last! Even as I write, I feel a tear… I hope I did not splash the ink.

As for what to do while you wait… Well, you must simply keep living, Sebastian! There is no better distraction from sorrow than to remain awake to your life. Give time to your sadness and enjoy the company of your fellow servants at every juncture. Each day that the winter wind blows cold against the windows, I recall that the sun must always shine again. I know it will for you too.

When we arrive in Valencia, I shall write your house so you will know our location and that we have arrived safely. Until then, in your darkest moments, I hope you can imagine me cheering for you! The sun will shine for us very often in Spain, and I will think of you when I look at it.

Your friend,

Agni

---

A butler's day began early. Sometimes, as on that Monday, so did his lord's.

"Good morning, young master. It is time to wake up."

Waking early was not sustainable for any lord of a noble house who went to bed late, and when one stayed up working (or trying to work) for two nights in a row, a seven o'clock rise was especially inadvisable.

"Nn… It's still dark outside…" Ciel croaked from the pillows, eyes cinched tight.

"Yes, I know… I know. It is a gloomy day, unfortunately. But Mr. Cavendish will be calling here in three hours, and I understand that you wanted to take advantage of your remaining time to prepare, so here I am to get you."

Ciel burrowed deeper, set on hibernation. "It's cold in here…"

"I'll bolster the fire in a moment. I've brought you a vanilla tea, just the right temperature to start drinking immediately. And if you sit up, I can put your dressing gown around your shoulders. Come now… There we are. Can you hold the cup steady? The tea may not be boiling hot, but it is plenty warm. Just be careful now. I'll get to the fire."

Rolls of newspaper were used to start the flame, then placed in the grate and promptly covered with a roof of softwood kindling to shelter it from the chimney's drafts. The next layer of oak logs would eventually catch and allow for the final layer of coal to burn. The manor's master bedroom had a good-sized, efficient fireplace that warmed the room quite well. This was important, as it was ideal for the human body to enter a bath when it wasn't feeling cold.

Ciel yawned loudly. "What time is it… I want more tea."

"It is five minutes past seven. You can have more if you like. But are you alright with the time you have already taken?"

"I don't care about the time taken… I'm too tired to care. Just get me more tea."

The temperature of bathing water was as important as the temperature of the surrounding air, if not more so. Cold baths were shocking and stimulated blood flow; very hot baths produced a similar effect. A warm bath could offer a soothing quality, which was not always desirable when the aim was to induce wakefulness. But submerging in water that wasn't palatably hot or cold was not something the young master enjoyed.

"The water's not all that warm. It could certainly be warmer," Ciel griped as he stepped into it.

"Too warm and you might find yourself drifting off again. We'll get it over with quickly. I have towels heating by the fireplace, too."

Pure white Castile soap dissolved in water was the ideal way to shampoo the young master's hair. A bar of vegetable glycerin soap had always proven perfect for replenishing skin, especially in the winter, thanks to its moisturizing properties. Rinsing with clean water from a pitcher and quickly towel-drying before the fire reduced time spent shivering in the open air, though the room had been brought up to a pleasant temperature by then.

"Five minutes till seven-thirty already? How did it take that long?" Ciel whined as a white shirt was buttoned up to his throat.

"We're nearly finished now. We should have you in your office by half-past, and you can get straight to work while I finish preparing your breakfast. I'll make sure it's something nice and filling."

Socks, trousers, and jacket were preferably of wool in the month of November, and a brown herringbone pattern made for suitably relaxed at-home wear. Since the manor would not be receiving any guests, prioritizing comfort was acceptable. Assuring the master of the house had the right wardrobe to face the day's tasks was of utmost importance for a butler. Though today, it was really one particular task that needed the young master's attention: the same task that had needed attention all weekend.

"Just what did I think I was doing with these reports?" Ciel studied the surface of his desk when they made it to the office: the wood could barely be seen beneath the paper layer. He picked one up, then another. "This one's Norris & Co., this is Jacquard-Lyon, and these are from the East India Company… Why did I mix them all together like this?!" Ciel's eyebrows ducked. "I must have had some idea in mind, but I don't remember what it was…"

"Would you like me to organize the papers for you before I go to the kitchen?"

The boy paused there in front of the chair that was much too big for him. His brow furrowed. "Why did I think waking up early would help anything?" he muttered, and snarled. "I don't have time to read all of this… If I couldn't make myself get to it yesterday or Saturday, what did I think getting up early on a Monday would do? Am I an idiot?!"

"What if I read them instead and summarized the information back to you?"

"…" Ciel sighed out his nose, then closed his eyes, forcing down his own impatience. "Never mind, it's fine. Just go get breakfast ready."

Breakfast, being the first meal of the day, was perhaps the most crucial one. Focus was always put into leaving the master of the house feeling well-fed and with ample energy. Reusing leftovers from the previous night's dinner could speed up the preparation while cutting down on food waste. But today, feeling a spark of creativity from a certain letter, it was decided that the Indian-inspired dish of kedgeree would make for a suitable offering.

Haddock was poached and long-grain rice was cooked in the leftover liquid, then mixed with curried butter, shelling peas, coriander, and hard-boiled eggs sliced straight through to reveal jammy yolks. For a gray day, it was a bright bowlful of color, and it contrasted well on a set of Copeland & Garrett felspar porcelain, hand-painted in cobalt blue and gilded with azaleas.

Ciel poured over the papers before him, appearing no closer to making heads or tails of it all. "I'm not hungry," he mumbled without looking up when the trolley was rolled over to him.

"You don't have to eat, then. But I've made you something warm and hearty."

Ciel sniffed the air. "It smells like Indian cooking. You know all those spices don't appeal to my stomach."

"I used an English curry mix that Agni told me was acceptable. It only has a bit of cumin, coriander, clove, and turmeric. It is even less than in Funtom's curry buns. But I will make you something else if you prefer."

"I suppose it doesn't matter since I'm not even hungry. You can just leave it here."

A butler was not supposed to speak out of turn. But… "Is there something else I can do to help?"

"No." Ciel hesitated. Then a slow, churlish smirk lit up his face. "Actually… sure. What do you think, Sebastian?" A piece of paper was lifted in each hand. "We have two companies that Funtom is considering outsourcing some of our textile printing to this Christmas season. The first company is one of the last woodblock printers in France. It'll be expensive, but their work will meet our standards without a doubt. The second is a new English copperplate printer whose work is slightly below the quality we like to see on Funtom products, but it won't cost as much money, and it'll help us keep prices affordable for our customers. The copperplate printer we worked with previously had far too many employee injuries this past year, so I've decided it's off the table, and Cavendish thinks that's fine. But my treasurer is pushing us to reconsider because he believes the injuries were unlucky, not due to negligence, and that maintaining a relationship with our previous printer will be the best choice financially. So: which company do you think we should go with, Sebastian?"

A good butler always did his best to assist his master, but it was best to recognize when an area fell outside his jurisdiction. "I apologize, sir, but I do not think I could say. I would need more information before I settled on a decision."

Ciel's smirk faded. He looked back at his desk and propped his forehead with his hand. "And here I have that information spread before me, yet I couldn't tell you any of it. I read it and then I immediately forget. I can't hold onto anything right now."

"… I see."

Silence. Then, after a few moments, Ciel leaned back into the armchair. "Well, I still have some time. Serve me a plate of whatever that is and then on your way."

The storeroom was where the bounty of spring, summer, and autumn sparkled in glass jars for winter's benefit. Spiced peaches, clarified butter, deviled peppers, mock olives, strawberry jelly, quince marmalade, lemon sauce, sugared orange peels, pickled beetroot, haricot verts in salt, apricots in syrup — all were kept alphabetically and checked frequently for spoilage. Any sign of damp coming into the room was an immediate emergency: dryness was ideal for such an environment. Burlap sacks of root vegetables kept on the floor also needed to be inspected at least twice a month, for a single moldy item could afflict the others surrounding it in short order.

Winter clothing had to be treated just like the perishables: kept in a cool, dry place to prevent mold growth and interest from insects. Tissue paper and cotton muslin acted as a further shield from damage. Everything had to be laid flat to prevent creases from forming where they did not belong. A good airing out was still a necessity for keeping master and servant wardrobes presentable alike — and it could be useful to analyze each piece independently for loose threads and general wear and tear.

And what could be more tenuous than the gas lamps lining the hallways and some of the rooms? Such a form of lighting could be rather dangerous, but unique adjustments of a slightly demonic nature kept them safer than ones found in the average noble home. Alternate light sources were most crucial when the tilt of the earth took precious sunshine away from this corner of the world. Inspecting, cleaning, and replacing the lamp burner tips as necessary ensured, even with ethereal safety measures in place, that light would be an available resource at any time.

Somewhere among the chores, the telephone was heard. Since the call was expected, it was acceptable to let it ring a few times until the master had the chance to pick it up. Twice… three times… and then silence. It had been answered; on to lunch.

A butler was not required to feel a certain way about his chores, only to do them with the care they deserved. However… the process of cooking became more pleasurable when it was taken into consideration how much the food would be enjoyed. And a house always functioned best when each member had been supplied a healthy, fruitful diet.

The smell of it attracted gardener, maid, and chef to the kitchen in turn. "Mmm, something in here smells goooood… Oooh, is that going to be for us, Mr. Sebastian? Do we really get to have stew with beef? "

A gentle stir was given to the foodstuff to keep it cooking evenly. "Yes, that's right, Finny. It seemed like the sort of day where a special treat might be especially welcome. It still won't be ready for another few hours, though, so there is some extra kedgeree on the table if you're hungry now."

"Mey-Rin, Mey-Rin, did you hear? Sebastian is making us beef stew! Isn't that just the best!"

"E-Eh, really?! But I don't think we did anything to deserve it…"

'Deserving' was not a matter of dispute. Here, Sebastian was sure to supply a quick correction. "The weather is growing cold: a warm meal with plenty of good nutrition is as beneficial as it is delicious. And seeing as it is providing a boost in spirits too, I can think of no better a day to prepare it."

A blond head popped in from the tack room. "Oi, did my ears deceive me or did I hear ya say 'beef stew'? … Really?! You're jokin'… Oh, that'll put a spring in my step for sure. You'll see those stables cleaned out in no time flat."

"Ho, ho, ho…"

With the soup left to simmer until the beef shin was tender, the time to make the rounds to the necessary fireplaces had arrived. Starting in the room that held the master of the house was most polite, and with a quick listen to make sure the prior telephone conversation had ended and would not be interrupted, a knock was given to the door.

" What? " came snappishly from the other side.

"My lord. I'm here to tend to the fireplace and collect the breakfast dishes."

"… Right. Fine."

The dishes were seen to first, lifted off the desk and deposited back on the trolley, without so much as a few clinks and clacks. A butler in the vicinity of his master generally did not speak unless spoken to. Domestics were meant to tread softly around the noble family of the house when its members were relaxing or working, for such time was personal and disturbance interruptive. But sometimes a master had no family to speak with but his domestics…

"Was your telephone call with Mr. Cavendish as productive as you hoped?"

It wasn't the question that felt right to be asking, but for the time being, it was best to avoid things that very deliberately sounded like comfort — even if the boy at the desk looked like he could have used some.

Ciel didn't answer at first. He remained slumped forward over the droves of papers, with a hand weakly propping up his chin, his visible eye half-lidded and somehow wearier than it had appeared even this morning. "No," he said. "It was pathetic, actually. I was an idiot the entire time."

"Surely Mr. Cavendish was able to fill in any details you were missing about the various textile printers… and surely he did not speak to you scoldingly for not having the documents memorized?"

"No, of course he didn't!" Ciel thrust himself into the back of the chair, his arms folded so tightly into his body that they seemed to want to bisect him. Anger ignited, he blinked quickly to keep it from shifting to a different emotion. "He would never dream of scolding me! Cavendish always knows just what to say! He's the perfect lead manager. Maybe even the world's first perfect person! I bet even you would agree! Both of you are just so meticulous and, and perfect, and of the same mind in more ways than one apparently! "

Sebastian hesitated there next to the trolley. "… May I ask what you mean, young master?"

Ciel's brows furrowed drastically. "You, you're both so…! You both think you're so right about everything!" The boy shot up from his chair, as if about to start pacing, but then stood there steaming instead. "Well, you aren't! You can't be right all the time! Nobody on this earth is right about bloody everything! "

"I agree with you," said Sebastian, "I am not right about everything."

"But you definitely do think you're right about this one thing," Ciel sneered, pointing. "I know you do, because it's all you'll say lately! You think I'm a child, and Cavendish thinks I'm a child, because you both can't possibly fathom that maybe some people stop being children earlier than others!"

Oh. "Whatever led your conversation in such a direction?"

Ciel gave a hollow laugh that Sebastian knew was not really voluntary. "Well, I had to be honest with him, didn't I? I had to let Cavendish know that I hadn't fully read all the documents he sent. I told him I didn't feel equipped to make the decision yet. Better to be honest than embarrass myself. But I'm willing to be honest with my failings. That's what an adult does.

"And Cavendish, instead of just filling in the blanks I missed or giving me his own input… He told me that he has a son just a few years older than myself, and that he can't imagine his son doing all that I do." Ciel gave another hard laugh. "And I said, I can't imagine it either! Because I don't know anything about his son! And Cavendish said that maybe at my age, I shouldn't be so hard on myself about what I'm unable to accomplish." Ciel ran a hand through his hair. "At my age! I said, 'So what am I, a child?' And he said, 'You are very young.' And I told him… I told him, it was ridiculous to compare me to his son just because we're both young, that would be like me comparing him to another middle-aged man. And that until he was ready to see me as the person that I am, without making pointless comparisons, I wasn't interested in speaking with him."

The dialogue stopped there. Without the availability of comforting, Sebastian could only think to say, "And what was Mr. Cavendish's response to that?"

Here, Ciel slumped down at his desk and tucked his chin back in his hand. "I don't know because that was when I set the telephone back in its cradle."

"I see." A pause. "It sounds as if you made yourself very clear to him, young master."

" Ugh! " Here Ciel rolled his face into his palm, annoyed. "We were supposed to talk about the Christmas line! It was supposed to be a business meeting! But Cavendish just had to go and make me feel like…" The boy halted and then glared at Sebastian darkly. "… oh, wouldn't you like to know."

Sebastian stood unmoving by the side of the desk.

Ciel rolled his eyes and shooed at him. "Just get on with your task."

The fire was tended to with some deliberation. It had not gone out, and thus only required a bit of mending to rejuvenate its spark. Sebastian stood when he was finished and faced the boy. There was only one thing he could think to say.

"I am preparing beef and potato stew for lunch."

The young master hadn't seemed to have moved since the last time Sebastian looked at him, face still half-buried in a tired hand. He looked over sidelong. "What?"

"I'm making beef and potato stew. I know it is one of your favorites for a cold day," Sebastian said. "When it is ready, you might enjoy it downstairs in the kitchen with the rest of the servants instead of in here by yourself."

Ciel closed his eyes. Appeared to actually be considering it. Then, "… You can just let me know when it's ready. I'll decide for myself."

The good butler left with breakfast dishes and finished attending to the rest of the house's fires.

When he eventually returned to the basement, the kitchen was a scene from a fairy tale. The fire was gold in the hearth, and there was steam on the inside of the window over the sink, drizzle on the outside. The servants were all at the table together, apparently having decided now was the moment for a collective break. Sebastian had heard them chattering from down the hall, and it turned to laughter at the very moment he happened to enter the threshold.

The soup was bubbling merrily on the stovetop, which meant it was time for the next step. Sebastian removed half of the stewed potatoes, onions, peas, and rice from the broth. He pulped them through a sieve as he listened to the servants babble about which part of the cow they thought was the tastiest. Bard, born and bred in a cow town, had the only serious opinion on the matter, and was trying to impart discernment upon Mey-Rin and Finny, who kept insisting that the best part was simply beef. The two would then laugh loudly as Bard chided, "You knuckle-brains, there isn't just one kind of beef, if you'd listen up!" The room was a perfect hum of activity as Sebastian set about straining this and chopping that and frying up slices of white bread…

Until there came a sudden knock at the tradesman's entrance.

All talking ceased at once. Heads swiveled to the door. Bard broke the nascent silence with, "Geez, ain't Old Man Sam, is it? Not his day to come…" and rose to answer it. The sound of gently pattering rain competed with the fluttering hearth when the door was opened.

A voice from an uninvited guest pattered in too. "Good afternoon… Er… My apologies, but… is now an acceptable time for visitors?"

Sebastian's ears had pricked, but Bard was fast to usher the man in. "Oh, Professor Whitaker! Been a few weeks since we seen ya. Get on in here outta the rain." Bard held open the door wider. An umbrella was closed shut with a drizzly snap before Whitaker stepped forward to begin wiping his feet on the doormat. "You oughtta know you're welcome through the front door, though! No need to come back this way. That's for the tradesfolk."

Sebastian finished drying his hands and replacing his gloves before approaching. "Mr. Whitaker, welcome. Did you not receive my letter? I apologize, but unfortunately today's lesson has been postponed once again."

"I… I know." The man looked down at his shoes, but there was something resolute in his stance, and he lifted his chin again. "That is… why I am here. If he will see me, may I please speak to Lord Phantomhive at once?"

Sebastian's eyebrows lowered. To ignore a direct letter from an employer… Mr. Whitaker's position was not one that should allow for such a breach of conduct. In circumstances like these, a butler could be permitted to speak on behalf of his master's status. "Lord Phantomhive is not expecting visitors today. My apologies, but you will have to come back in the future, when you have permission."

"Wait a minute, now, Sebastian." It was Tanaka. The senior steward stood from his place at the table, his eyes twinkling meaningfully. "I do believe the young master would prefer to know about Mr. Whitaker's arrival and choose what to do for himself. It is only right that we inform him and allow him to decide."

Normally that was true, but… This isn't a good day for surprises. "Tanaka, I'm not sure…" Sebastian tried.

"It is all right. I shall be the one to deliver the message." Tanaka smiled and bowed in their guest's direction. "Mr. Whitaker, make yourself at home in our humble kitchen. Sebastian will fix you a cup of tea, if you'd like one. I shall return shortly with your answer."

"Th-Thank you." Whitaker remained rooted to his spot, even after Bard closed the door and offered him the newly available seat at the table. His refusal to 'make himself at home' seemed separate from an anxiety to track water droplets into the house. What is Whitaker so nervous about? An offer for a hot drink was turned down too.

Sebastian went back to his stirring, feeling apprehensive. The butler did have the power to turn people away on his master's behalf, but Tanaka had probably been right: this wasn't just any solicitor and Ciel probably would want to know about it. And Tanaka proved himself again. When he arrived back in the kitchen five minutes later, he announced, "Thank you for waiting, Mr. Whitaker. Lord Phantomhive has agreed to see you. Sebastian will guide you to the office in my stead."

This time, he wants me to lead the way? Well, perhaps the climb upstairs had been too tiring for Tanaka's joints, especially considering the weather… Sebastian attempted to engage Tanaka with a glance: Are you so sure about this? But Tanaka's eyes seemed deliberately closed: he only sipped at his favorite gyokuro contentedly. I hope you know what you're doing, then… With a nod at the guest, Sebastian strode away from the stove with Whitaker a flighty dog at his heels.

Ciel's "come in" from the other side of the door was unassuming and unruffled, much the opposite of before: clearly he had chosen to face Whitaker with a veneer of undaunted professionality. Sebastian stepped into the room to open the door in full, and Whitaker toed through with a tentative atmosphere. A good butler would never choose to stay in the room when his lord was holding a conference, but… Sebastian closed the door with himself still inside and waited by the back wall to see if a dismissal came.

It did not come. Ciel seemed to anticipate this meeting would be some trifling thing and didn't bother with it. He sat tall-backed and important in his chair before a desk that was notably free of paperwork. "Mr. Whitaker, what can I do for you? My head steward informed me you received our letter of cancellation. Surely your payments have arrived on time?"

"Y-Yes, my lord. There is… no issue there." Mr. Whitaker rotated his hat in his hands, then took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. "Lord Phantomhive, much as it pains me, I… I'm afraid I have come to resign."

Sebastian felt the slight widening of his eyes.

"What?!" Ciel slammed his palms to his desk and leapt to his feet. For a moment, he could only stare. Then, slowly, "Has there been an emergency in your family? I can accommodate that, without trouble. I was already planning to spend most of December focusing on Funtom and holiday matters."

Whitaker paused, then shook his head. "Er, no, there has not been an emergency… Rather… I'm not sure I am as suited for this position as I thought."

Ciel was dumbfounded. "Not sure…?" he stammered. His eyebrows lowered; disapproval was replacing the incredulity. "I thought teaching political economy was supposed to be your life's passion. You aren't enjoying working here?"

"I-I very much enjoy working here, my lord," Whitaker nodded. "The thing of the matter is… I have not been working near as often as was outlined in our contract."

Ciel blinked. For a moment, words failed. "Yes, but… that was… when I had time for it," he said at last. He cleared his throat. "You're still getting paid, correct? Sorry, but I have other things I have to do at this time of year, I'm a busy person. We'll get back to the lessons when my schedule opens up again."

"It sounds as though that plan has suited your previous tutors just fine. But…" Here Whitaker stood tall with his morals behind him. "I'm not a man who can find pride or purpose in being paid without doing anything to earn it. It is against my own personal code of conduct. If you wish to support me instead as an academic, I'm afraid that I must move back to London or Oxford, where I can have the company and minds of other intellectuals at my disposal, but… as it is, I cannot continue to take advantage of your financial generosity."

Ciel's wavering expression instantly sharpened. Something in those words had struck a minor chord.

"What's there to take advantage of?" the boy said icily. "I told you I'm happy paying you even when you don't work. Do you disbelieve that?"

"Er… no, my lord," Whitaker struggled to maintain his resolve, but to his credit, he did try. "I only meant that it hardly feels like a fair exchange. If I am going to receive compensation from you, surely I ought to be providing you a service in return."

" That should be up to me to decide." Ciel raised his chin high. "You're bold, Whitaker, and surely you know it. This isn't how you should talk to a member of the noble class. But a lapse in etiquette isn't my primary concern — kowtowing has never appealed to me. I'm not any better a man than you just because I'm an earl." Ciel rounded the desk now and stared Whitaker down. "But that's where the heart of the problem actually lies… right? You don't think I'm a man at all: you think I'm just a child. And that's the real reason why you're unafraid to talk to me so boldly, isn't it?"

Whitaker stood unmoving. "I… Er, no. This isn't because you're a child, I—"

" I'm not a child! "

Those four shrill words turned the air to lead. Despite hearing them spoken many times, suddenly Sebastian felt them resonate in a way they never had before.

After another moment of agitated seething, Ciel showed an astonished Whitaker his back. "… Fine. I heard you loud and clear. You don't want to work for me anymore? Then consider our contract void. You're free to go."

"…" Whitaker hesitated, mouth agape. What could one possibly say? Finally, he dipped his head. "Eh, well, then… G-Good day, my lord."

Sebastian opened the door and followed Mr. Whitaker silently out of the room.

It was only once they had gone far enough to make it down the first flight of stairs that Sebastian called out to the fleeing man, "Mr. Whitaker, if I may speak with you a moment?"

"Ah—!" Mr. Whitaker practically squeaked it, not seeming to recognize he'd been tailed. Now that he was outside of the office, his true feelings were allowed to show, and show they did. "If you're going to give me an evaluation, I'm not sure I'm in the right state to hear it!" he stuttered, clutching at the front of his jacket. "I… I feel I have thoroughly overstepped… I wish to go home and draft my apology letter as quickly as possible!"

"I don't think that will be necessary." Sebastian finished approaching and offered a small but compassionate smile. "Mr. Whitaker: you have just spoken quite honestly to my young master, an individual who typically admires honesty a great deal… Believe me when I say you are an important person in his life. Therefore, I must ask you, very humbly, not to be in such a hurry to leave."

Whitaker threw a glance over his shoulder. "Er, I… I'm really not sure I should stay, I—"

"I don't mean you shouldn't leave from the manor today. I mean I would appreciate if you remained in this shire a little longer." Sebastian tucked his arms behind his back. "You are a man who wishes not to hide your intentions, nor give up on your ideals, even when faced with potential consequences. I believe… that my young master needs you to keep being his professor. Not just because of your skillset, but because your strong sense of self makes you a man of great value, more than any social status could. Please… if you could wait a bit more for my lord to come around and recognize your worth… as nothing less than the butler of this manor, I would be eternally grateful to you."

Sebastian then bowed deep to show his humility.

The response came fast (and flustered). "Ah, please, stop, that isn't necessary! Really! I-I don't require any deference," Whitaker almost blathered, clearly close to overwhelmed from all that had come to pass. He adjusted his collar as Sebastian straightened back up. "I should tell you… When I said I was afraid I'd have to resign today, I meant it," he admitted, looking at the floor. "This was a forthright act, coming here directly, but I wouldn't have tried it if I didn't imagine that perhaps some agreement could be reached… In truth, it is because I have such great respect for Lord Phantomhive that I wanted to approach him in person, not just as a servant to a lord but as a teacher to his pupil... Well, that seems to have backfired spectacularly, but… If you think there is really some hope...?"

"I do."

Whitaker nodded and swallowed timidly. "Then… I will wait another week before I pack for London. But please, don't keep me in the dark all that time, if you can! I might just pace my way through the floor waiting for a response to arrive, I assure you!"

Sebastian offered him a kind chuckle. "I understand, Mr. Whitaker. And thank you for wanting to stay by my young master's side. Right now, I believe he needs as many good influences in his life as possible…"

Sebastian delivered Whitaker back to the kitchen and told Bard to go prepare the horses for the carriage. The rain had only worsened in that short time, and it would not do to have a Phantomhive professor walking back to the village through the muck. Only when those arrangements had been squared away did Sebastian hasten upstairs once more.

After all, a good butler always knew when the soup was about to boil over.

It was in the middle of walking down the hallway to the office door that Sebastian heard a shattering sound beyond it. That seemed reason enough to enter the room without knocking first. He arrived and went straight in.

Ciel stood beside a corner table, staring down at the carpet littered with thick chips of white porcelain. Sebastian recognized the chips as belonging to the Meissen vase that had lived its days adding a spark of décor and lavishness to the room, with its cheerful plumpness and double handles resembling a trophy in shape. It had cost a fair amount of money, too, money spent nearly four years ago for the sake of impressing businessmen interested in investing with Funtom Company. Ciel breathed heavily over the expensive corpse.

Sebastian shut the door quietly. "Oh, dear… What has happened here? Are you hurt?"

Ciel stayed unmoving. "I'm not hurt. I just broke a vase."

"Yes, so you did." Sebastian nodded along, and though he felt certain of the answer, asked, "Was it an accident?"

"No." Each word Ciel spoke was tense and weighted like a stone. "I wanted to break it."

Sebastian stepped closer. There was still ten long feet of distance between them. "This is what you wanted?"

Ciel's lips parted, but no words came out. The rising and falling of his chest was not rhythmic. "I…" His gaze roved over the fragments of what was once a whole thing. The fingers of one hand seemed to flicker, as if with the will to catch. He spun. "It has to be," he said, with more fear than rage. "Obviously, it has to be!"

"Because you did it on purpose," Sebastian filled in.

"I can break anything I want!" Ciel cried. "Teacups! Vases! They're mine to do with as I please! I bought them with the money I made myself! Who cares if they're broken? They're mine!"

"Yes, you can break them if you want to, young master," Sebastian said. "And as your butler, I shall be here to gather the pieces time and again, as many times as is needed."

Ciel glared at him, calculating. His one visible eye was like a crystal ball hazily projecting the thoughts and emotions that ran rampant in his mind. His rapid blinking could not clear it.

"Fairclough is the only one left who thinks I'm an adult, isn't he?" Ciel spat at last, voice wavering. "Not a single other person agrees with me, even though I've only done… I'm doing everything I can! What else do I have to do? What's it going to take to convince the rest of you that I'm right?!"

There was nothing it could take. There was no one moment that could turn a child into an adult. And Sebastian almost answered him that, but then he saw the tears on Ciel's cheek, and the only words he could conjure were, "Young master…"

"Shut up! I know I'm crying, all right? Take me seriously!" Ciel smudged at his eye, which at once continued to run with water. "I know you must be thinking, 'Oh, look how sad and childish he is,' I'm not sad! I'm actually so angry that I can't even think straight, so I don't want to hear any pity! I'm not sad!"

"All right," said Sebastian.

"… I'm not," Ciel said. He swallowed and trembled. "I'm just so… bloody… infuriated… that everyone keeps telling me that I'm something that I… can't be… and refusing to see how wrong they are…" He sniffled like it was an act of defiance. "Cavendish… and Mr. Whitaker… and you especially… and even my aunt and uncle… Fairclough's the only one who understands! But why can't you understand? Why can't anybody? I'm not a child! I'm just… I'm not! That's all there is to it! I can't be, all of you are so…" Ciel grabbed at his scalp with both hands and gave a great snarl of frustration. "What else am I supposed to do? It's not my fault I'm the age that I am or the height that I am or any of that… I can't do anything about that, right, so stop saying it has anything to do with it…"

Sebastian felt his fear as a tightness in his throat. Before this moment, he had been certain that Ciel needed to hear it gently insisted upon that he was still a child, for that was the fact of the matter. But here, now, Sebastian saw how crucial it was that he immediately grasp Ciel's perspective or risk losing him to Fairclough forever. The next words out of his mouth had to be the right ones.

But what could those words possibly be?

Don't give up. Think. Over the past week, Ciel had listed many reasons for why he was an adult. All of them Sebastian had refuted, not just because they didn't hold water but because none had really seemed to get to the heart of the matter. Before today, Ciel had handled Sebastian's refutation with annoyance but never with distress of this level. There had to be a true meaning of adulthood that Ciel was applying to himself, but even the boy didn't seem to know how to put it into words. His definition for 'adult' just seemed to be 'not a child.'

And 'child' was the one definition of Ciel's that Sebastian did know: someone weak, helpless, naïve, innocent, and unable to do anything when serious harm came their way. It was why Sebastian had made it very clear that that definition did not match his own. And surely for Cavendish and Whitaker it was just the same: for them, 'child' was not an insult, it was simply a state of being related to age. Ciel was an intelligent boy; how could he not see that?

… No. That wasn't fair, was it?

It was precisely because Ciel was such an intelligent boy that he understood in this world, being a child was a sort of insult. It meant being less-than. Children were taken, exploited, ridiculed, and mistreated, sometimes even killed, all because they didn't have the strength or power of an adult. Being a child was dangerous.

And thus… being an adult wasn't really about being a titled noble, or the founder of a company, or the Queen's Watchdog at all, much as Ciel liked to recite these facts to himself for comfort. At its heart, being an adult was about something else entirely.

Sebastian's throat tightened ever more. Oh, no. Once again, I fear I have failed him.

But when his own voice hesitated, Tanaka's filled Sebastian's mind loud and clear: "You are willing to care for the young master, and you are willing to listen and learn from your mistakes. As long as these truths remain, you can never fail him completely."

Sebastian was willing to listen. He was willing to learn from his mistakes.

"My lord…"

He had a chance to get this right.

"… I'm sorry that I kept insisting that you were a child."

Ciel still had his fingers wound into his hair, caught in a silent thrall of exasperation. Here, he peered at Sebastian out from between his arms.

"… No, you aren't," he asserted tearily, before recognizing the rule he himself had created about lying, and changed to, "How can you possibly be sorry? "

"Because," Sebastian said, "I realized that I have been hearing you, but I have not been listening to you."

Ciel only continued to stare. "What do you mean?" He was guarded and his words radiated challenge, but in spite of it all, there was a small curiosity that could not seem to be helped.

Sebastian appealed to that curiosity. "You have given me several reasons why you are an adult, just this week alone, and I took all of them at face value. I didn't bother to imagine what those reasons might have really meant to you." Sebastian longed to walk over to the boy. For now, he stayed where he was. "Your definition of an adult won't be found in a dictionary," he continued. "And it won't be the same as mine, or Mr. Cavendish's, or Mr. Whitaker's, or your aunt and uncle's. But that doesn't have to mean it is wrong. It doesn't have to mean it isn't just as worthy of acceptance."

Ciel palmed at his face for tears, wiping underneath the hem of his eye patch. "T-Tell me what you're saying," he sniffed. "Are you really finally agreeing with me, and if you are, why?"

"Yes," said Sebastian, "yes, I am agreeing with your definition. I understand what it is, now. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

Ciel was trying his best to glare. "Did you really realize it? Tell me what you think it is."

Sebastian felt the swell in his chest as he answered. "An adult is someone… who is able to keep himself safe."

At first, there was nothing. Then Ciel tossed his chin and leveled his shoulders. "That isn't my definition," he said. "I mean, it could be a part of it, right, but it's more than that. It's self-sufficiency! And… and it's, you know, it's… being composed, which I would be, if everyone would just listen to me! And it's, it's about, you know, not being so helpless that you can't even stay alive! I mean, don't you think that's fair? Everyone keeps acting like my definition is some odd, unfathomable thing, but it isn't at all! It's perfectly right! Stop treating me like it isn't right!"

Ciel had given up trying to swipe the tears away at this point. They were falling too fast. They were landing on porcelain fragments.

"You're telling me that an adult is someone who can manage his own health, safety, and emotions." Sebastian was sure to put careful emphasis on the last four words.

"Right!" Then the realization hit Ciel, and he grimaced, enraged. "Wait! Damn it… no, no. That was your definition, too, wasn't it? You said that just a few weeks ago. But then how could you act like my definition was wrong when it's exactly the same as yours?! Are you that much of a hypocrite?! Or were you just too stubborn to agree with me this whole time?!"

"That was never my definition of an adult," said Sebastian. "That was my definition of a parent."

Softly ticked the grandfather clock in the corner; softly sounded the rain upon the window.

Ciel spun around.

Sebastian took a step closer to the turned back. "Young master… I think I ought to acknowledge something properly. Something about you. During that same conversation in which I gave you my definition of a parent — one who manages his or her child's health, safety, and emotions — you said you had been that person for yourself during 'that horrible month.' And of course you were that person… because you had no choice. But you still managed it, against all odds. You managed to keep yourself alive in conditions that no human being should ever be subjected to. And that could not have been easy."

Silence.

Another step. "Therefore… I think it makes perfect sense that you wouldn't want anybody else to fill the role of parent for you. You have already proven to yourself that you are the most trustworthy person in your life; someone who will never go away or betray you. That is a requirement you expect of no one else; even I, who was summoned under such pretenses, fought for years not to fulfill that role in its entirety. You always knew I was not to be trusted. It wasn't until recently that I have changed, and it's more than understandable that you still don't wish to trust me completely."

Ciel stood there shaking.

Another step. "Young master, even if you don't trust me completely, I hope you can hear this. I think that you have been a very good parent. Very good. And I am so, so proud of you for keeping yourself alive all this time."

Ciel pressed his palms into his eye sockets as hard as he could.

Sebastian took one last step. There was four feet of distance left between them. "Calling you a child has belittled all of your hard work," he murmured. "And calling myself 'like a parent' has been a jab at your efforts. I'm sorry, young master."

There was a crackling whine in Ciel's throat, like he wanted to speak but knew it would just come out as a sob.

"You have told me that you want a butler, not a parent, and so that is what I shall be," Sebastian promised. "But I hope you will accept my own personal definition in return… one that also cannot be found in any dictionary. As your butler, I promise that as ill-mannered and impossible — or as brave and capable and resilient — as you behave… it isn't going to change the fact that I will still be here."

Ciel wrapped his arms around himself as if he were cold. He shivered as if he were too. Sebastian could only hope the boy would allow himself the chance to be held instead…

Eventually, Ciel trusted his voice enough to speak. It still came out faltering. " Stop… Stop saying that I'm good at this… It's not even true…" He coughed. "I was good at this before, but I'm not anymore… My professor just resigned because I wasn't doing his coursework, and my lead manager knows I'm not working either, and that's why everyone's calling me a child… I know that's why…"

Sebastian did not argue either point. It wasn't what would help right then. "You've been doing so much all by yourself," he said instead. "The first four years of our contract, you managed to keep yourself from examining your pain, and I don't believe it had anything to do with being 'good at this.' Rather, I believe you are old enough now that you can fully recognize the injustice in your life."

"I was always old enough, I always understood…" Oh, oh, he was crying. "There's just something wrong with me…"

"Nothing wrong. Nothing wrong," Sebastian soothed. "You are simply feeling what it really means to grow up."

For a full minute, they were unmoving, unspeaking, a painting in the gallery of life. The moment broke when Ciel sniffled again, and Sebastian reached for his front-pocket handkerchief. "Here you are. Take this, then." He stepped just close enough for Ciel to notice the cloth hesitating near his own arm.

Ciel accepted it and finally began to mop at his face. He'd surely needed it. "Wh-Why…" His words were sticky, and he coughed against them. "Why is it that you can… c-comfort me when I ordered you not to do it anymore?"

Sebastian offered a bittersweet smile to the boy who could not see it. "Because, young master… I do not have to follow certain orders if I do not believe it is better for your well-being."

Ciel hunched over the handkerchief that he continued to sniffle into. "Um…" His voice was small; his words were not. "… What else… do you believe would be… better for my well-being? R-Right now." Punctuated by another cough.

Oh, progress. The bittersweet smile lost some of its bitterness. "I know you will tell me if this isn't what you want," Sebastian said, "but perhaps a hug would be a good place to start."

He watched the boy grapple with this offer. Ciel had never agreed to a hug as long as Sebastian had known him. They had been forced upon him, by Soma, Lizzie, and sometimes even the servants, and it had occurred to Sebastian that Ciel tolerated this from the perspective that he did not have to ask to be loved, though it was at the cost of some of his autonomy — a double-edged sword. Sebastian could count on one hand the number of times Ciel had hugged someone else in return. So when it was offered to him like this… a request, a thing he could control… the choice of whether to be loved or lost… what would he do?

Ciel passed over his face again with the handkerchief. "I don't think I know what I want anymore," he said at last. "I don't know anything… So you can decide…" His voice lost all composure. "I don't want to decide anymore…"

"Here, then." Sebastian touched the boy on the shoulder and nudged him to turn around into an embrace. There was no mind for the mess of tears. Sebastian held Ciel securely against him, an arm around his shoulders, a hand clutching the back of his head. They stood there together among the splinters on the carpet.

Other than a hammering heart, Ciel was stillborn to the touch. He did not reciprocate it. He wanted all this to be foreign, Sebastian knew, and objectionable. But his skin was the skin of a human. It longed for touch even against its better judgment. And so while Ciel did not accept, he did not reject either.

Time passed them by with clock ticks and rain taps. Sebastian rubbed the boy's back rhythmically, cyclically. Ciel's heartbeat and breathing slowed to match. He was hungry for this and could not help but relax into it. But the first words the boy eventually spoke proved he was still troubled. "What am I supposed to do now…" he whined softly. "I practically dismissed Cavendish, and I got rid of Whitaker entirely…"

"Shhh," Sebastian hushed. "There is nothing you've said or done that cannot be mended. We can fix it together."

Ciel sniffled again. "I don't think we can fix the vase together… You can use your magic for that." Sebastian paused, couldn't help but laugh a little, though he felt the pang when Ciel added, "If your magic could fix me too, you would've already done it by now. I'm impossible…"

"Now, now. I don't mind the time and effort it takes to care for you." Once, that would've been a lie. Today, Sebastian was grateful he couldn't use his magic to solve this. They had no choice but to be a team. "And it's all right if nothing is ever 'fixed.' I know it isn't easy."

"I wish it was easy," Ciel mumbled against his butler's chest. "I almost even wish that your magic could fix me. But no one can do anything about how I am. We've already tried everything we can think of… I'm just like this… There's some—" He stopped short.

Sebastian let another well-meaning chuckle sound in his throat. "… something wrong with you?" he finished. "Again, young master, I don't think that's true… And we have not tried everything we can think of. There is one thing in particular we have only just begun. The thing that you believe Lyle Reubin needs to do most of all: share what is on your mind."

He expected Ciel to push back against his offer to talk for the hundredth time. But the boy had fought too many losing battles at this point and was nearly ready to surrender. "I really don't think I want to talk about it…"

"It may well be that you'll never want to talk about it. That is natural." Ciel sniffled and moved away slightly to wipe his face more with the handkerchief. "But I think, perhaps, that you're willing to. And I'm willing to listen."

Ciel didn't look him in the eye. Still, he was coming around. "You really think talking about it will help…?" he said.

Sebastian nodded his conviction. "Yes. I really do."

A minute took its time in ticking. It was only right that it did.

"… Fine. Then I'll try."

---

Planned conversations were naturally more peaceful than the ones driven by emotional peaks. Planning meant Ciel could go into them fed, rested, and assured with the knowledge that this was neutral ground. The time and place could be his to choose. And so could the refreshments.

"I can pick whatever I like?" Ciel had asked the following day during his wakeup cup of tea. He seemed to suddenly forget complications when the subject of dessert arose.

Sebastian had offered him a knowing smile. "Within reason," he cautioned. "The dessert isn't meant to be a coercive measure or a reward, even though I am proud of you for talking with me. However, it should be something that you want to eat, so that if you become hungry while you are speaking, there will be a snack in easy reach already prepared. Ideally, it should be something that does not require two utensils to eat and that will not impact your speech or weigh heavily in your stomach."

Ciel considered this while Sebastian prepared his wardrobe. He had his answer ready when it was time to get dressed. "Make me a creamy Irish breakfast tea and macarons. But: I want the macarons to taste like chocolate."

Macarons that tasted like chocolate… One could count on the young master to think up such a thing. He loved chocolate desserts above all else and always wished to incorporate more chocolate into his diet. Today, the boy would have his way. The macarons were flavored with cocoa powder and tested on the servants, who declared them worthy of the Queen. Only Tanaka seemed to understand that these were made for some sort of special purpose, but he did not prod Sebastian for details. This entire scenario seemed somehow guided by his sagely hand.

Ciel had not done any work that Tuesday. Sebastian had prescribed him with recreation, the same as he had before Easter. Ciel took the advice without argument. He read and dozed and ate the healthful breakfast and lunch Sebastian brought him. They had decided that four o'clock's hour of tea would be when they would meet in the bedroom and have their conversation. And alas, by that point, Ciel had lost his appetite for the macarons. He did not want to do this.

"I hardly know what there even is for me to say," Ciel began, once they were both settled and ready. He had already been sitting on the side of the bed nearest the pillows, and facing the door rather than the window, when Sebastian entered with the trolley. Now, his thumbs rubbed gently over the transferware teacup that he did not dash to the floor. "You already know what happened. For the most part."

"I can only know what you tell me," Sebastian reminded kindly. He was not as close to the footboard as usual. "And I would prefer to hear it directly from you, rather than going off of what I have surmised over the years."

Ciel was still dragging his feet. "I've already told you some things, but I don't even remember what I've said before or not…"

"There is no need to mind that. You can tell me as if I am hearing it all for the first time."

It was no comfort. Ciel's body stiffened. "I really don't want to do that…"

Sebastian had always been careful not to push too hard when the topic of 'that horrible month' came up, but here he saw some encouragement might be necessary. Perhaps he could grant the boy a helpful perspective. "I wonder if this is how young master Lyle Reubin feels when he considers how to share his own story. What do you think you would say to him if he were in your place?"

Ciel frowned to show his opinion on playacting. "… This is different. Lyle isn't even functioning in society at all anymore. He needs to tell someone what's going on so he can, and his family wants him to tell them already. You're the only one asking about me; I'm just going along with it to see what happens."

Sebastian corrected at the pause, "I think your family would want to know as well. You were the one who told them that you couldn't remember, and you hide your sadness from them so they are not even aware of it. And that is all right. You are under no obligation to be completely honest with them. But it bears repeating that others want to hear what you've been through. Even if it is painful; even if it is unpleasant."

"…" The hesitation still didn't let up.

Time to return to encouragement. "I know you wanted to try and use this time to share the truth of that horrible month with me, but it's all right if we simply sit here too. There is no expectation."

Miraculously, that was what did the trick. Or maybe not so miraculously. Ciel liked to feel like he was choosing things for himself, and he also hated to feel underestimated. He took Sebastian's leniency as a challenge. "Look, I'm going to go through with it. I'm just trying to figure out where to begin, all right?"

Sebastian bowed his head. "Of course, my apologies. Whenever you wish to start."

Still, Ciel took another moment to himself, breathing in and out through his nose. Then a thought swept over him, clear in the slightest loss of tension in his jaw. It next showed as a smirk. An unexpected thing, but it revealed its purpose fast.

"… You made a sort of stupid mistake when you first rebuilt the manor," Ciel said. "But I never corrected you because I actually think I like it better this way."

Sebastian matched this jocularity: he let a sort of playful offense tint his gentleness. "Oh? I suppose this is the young master's roundabout way of complimenting me?"

"It's barely a compliment." Ciel's retort was loosely proud, and it retained some of that color as he continued, "You made the master bedroom one large space, but it didn't used to be this open. Before the fire, the door from the hall used to first enter into a sitting room. I imagine the support walls were so completely destroyed that you couldn't even see where the old divisions lay." Ciel lifted his teacup and took a short sip from it. "But I'm actually glad about it, because it changes the way I feel about the room."

This was a curious start. "How you feel about the room, my lord?"

"Mhm." Then Ciel pointed at a spot on the floor that was close to the doorway and off to the side. "That," he said, "is the place where I found my parents dead."

Oh.

Sebastian could not help but show his dawning surprise. "Here? In this room?" He had never realized, after all this time… This was the place?

Ciel simply nodded. "And remember that I told you my dog went ahead of me into a room and yelped, and then I found him dead? That was here too. He was leading me to my mother and father." The subtle traces of bravado were fading fast. "Not that it mattered at that point."

Sebastian's thoughts were racing. He hadn't expected for new information to arrive so soon. But Ciel didn't want to deal with pity or shock — that brought discomfort. Thus, Sebastian kept his words measured. "What a terrifying moment that must have been."

"What I still don't know is why nobody grabbed me then. My parents' murderer, my dog's… He had to still be in the room." Ciel didn't pause for his feelings, sticking to the facts for now. Sebastian wouldn't interrupt either: it was enough that they had made it to this moment. "And I didn't flee right away, you know. I didn't even realize anybody had been killed at first, I thought they were only injured. I even shook my father to get up and yelled at him. But his eyes were wide open, and so were my mother's. When I noticed that, I knew then that they were dead."

Ciel scowled then. "People say death is like sleep, but they're wrong. It isn't the same when it's violent." Another angered sip of tea.

"… That can be very true," Sebastian offered softly.

Ciel's leg began swinging to a nervous rhythm. "I left the room as soon as I realized they couldn't help me. I understood I couldn't do anything on my own. But everyone I passed after that was dead. There was so much death that I tripped over bodies in the halls. It was dark, too. No lamps were lit. But maybe it's better that I couldn't see."

Sebastian remembered then that the ten-year-old Ciel had been napping when the invasion began and woke up in the midst of it — that detail Sebastian had at least been given. Neither he nor Ciel had ever been able to answer for certain why the boy had been left alive when nearly everyone else had been hunted like it was for sport.

"I heard the sound of arguing and followed it. I found Tanaka at the end of the east hall." Sebastian knew this detail too. "He warded me back, but I was so relieved to see a familiar face that I ran towards him. I know I already told you how that went. Tanaka was stabbed the moment I reached him, and someone seized me from behind and subdued me with a rag of chloroform."

Ciel paused at this natural stopping point. He looked reasonably unsettled to be recounting this.

Sebastian was minimal in the way he filled the silence. "How are you feeling so far?" he offered with careful inflection.

Ciel shrugged, a distant look to his eye. "A little odd. I don't know." He took a quick sip from his cup, then held it out. "You can get me more tea."

Sebastian went to the trolley and returned with steam sifting lazily from the replenished cup. "You've spoken very well so far, and said much. Any time you need to rest, know that you can."

Ciel gave him a look that was trying to be annoyed. It was more weary than anything else. "I'd rather just get it over with," he huffed. "I want to at least say I tried your idea, so you won't badger me about it in the future."

"It was as much your idea as mine," Sebastian reminded him. "This was the advice you gave to Lyle at his sister's party. And I think that makes it advice especially worth taking."

Ciel pulled a face like this was the worst kind of medicine to swallow. "I don't like thinking about this as if it were my idea… I'd rather it be yours so I can loathe it."

Sebastian tilted chin with a half-smile. "In spite of loathing this and trying to 'get it over with,' you are speaking with such honesty. I'm glad you can be open with me."

Still, Ciel wouldn't relent. "Well, I've said some of it before… To you, and even to Tanaka, since he knew as much about that night…" he mumbled into his teacup.

Ciel said this like it made his efforts less worthy of praise, but Sebastian knew better. "If you are noticing it has become easier to consider the manor attack after talking about it several times, that is a very important thing," Sebastian needed him to know. "It means speaking on it helps you. That could bode very well for the rest of this conversation."

"…" Another bad-medicine face.

Though the situation was hardly funny, Sebastian found himself withholding another smile. He knew slight annoyance was a healthy response from Ciel, and he would rather that response be directed outward than inward. He dipped his head. "I've said enough. If you are ready to keep speaking, I am ready to keep listening."

"… Hmf." Ciel faced forward with his lips to the rim of the cup. He swallowed down what was either tea or trepidation. "I guess we've arrived at the bit only you know even happened," he said. "Everyone else thinks I lost my memory from here on. But I remember it all perfectly fine… I couldn't forget it if I wanted to. And I'm not sure if I do or don't want to forget. I don't know."

The boy's forehead wrinkled with the scrunching of his eyebrows. He was silent for a moment. Sebastian let him be silent.

A leg started swinging again. "It was… confusing, when I woke up. My arms and legs were tied, and I had a cloth in my mouth. I'd been put in a trunk while I was unconscious. I could feel movement, so I knew I was being taken somewhere. I know I already told you what that place was… Some sort of holding lot for trafficked children. I was just another sniveling orphan to them. The men who brought me there had nothing to do with the fires, the way I heard them talking. Though I was so frightened at the time, I could barely even think."

Ciel tugged at his left earlobe then. "And I know I told you they did this to me with some sort of piercing apparatus for livestock. It's why the hole in the right ear can close but not this one. Why I bloody wear earrings in the first place… I'm sure even Aunt Francis thinks I'm trying to take after my father, but it has nothing to do with him. Sometimes I want to tell her about all this just for that reason. I hate when people make assumptions about me. But I can't even defend myself in this case, what am I supposed to say without revealing everything else too? It makes me more livid than you can imagine."

The boy was stalling, turning to subjects that were easier to talk about mid-story. It made sense, and Sebastian didn't stop him. Ever practical, after a moment with his tea, Ciel was able to put himself back on track.

"Ugh, anyway… After I was fixed with a price tag, I was put in a cage by myself. A lot of the children were crammed together. It was cold, and I remember thinking that I wanted to be with them for warmth. But the children who were in cages together sometimes fought because they wanted more clothing. Then I was grateful to be alone."

There was a new pause, and a frown. With deliberation, Ciel took another, longer sip of tea. It was clear that the story only became harder to tell as it went on. Sebastian considered that he should perhaps ask a question to encourage Ciel, to show there was a listening ear, then thought better of it and left the silence to naturally unfold. Ciel liked to do things his own way, after all.

"When morning arrived, strange men came who were interested in buying children," the boy went on when he was ready. "That was when I started to let myself think I might be rescued. That's one nice thing about being a child. I had no ability to imagine how things might get worse. When I wasn't grieving my situation, I only thought of how I might still be saved."

Again, Sebastian was struck by the way this story would have once left his demon self unaffected. Now, the image of the young boy suffering in the darkness and the damp, so alone, made him regret he had not been there then, had not followed the sounds of suffering sooner…

But suffering had never tempted the old Sebastian. It was the boy's sheer desire to persist in spite of his suffering that had brought them together that fateful day.

The retelling was continuing to affect Ciel too. It was getting trickier to keep from fidgeting while he talked. "The second day, I sort of did think I was… actually being rescued," he said, with a stilted reluctance. "A noble man saw me and… for some reason even knew who I was. I thought it might be all right from then on… that he might return me to Aunt Francis. He took me to his manor, and I was cleaned up…" The leg went from swinging to bouncing up and down. "Everything was still wrong, but…" Hesitation. "I cooperated anyway. I let them dress me and feed me. I even let them pierce my other ear, since the servants said it was only proper that a noble boy had his ears match. I kept insisting that I needed to find the Midfords, but when the man said he was taking me to a party that night, I assumed that meant my Aunt Ann was going to be there. I don't know why. It was hard to think anything that made sense anymore. I wish I'd done more to stop them."

Sebastian remembered mention of this noble man from the brief synopsis ten-year-old Ciel had granted him. "I imagine you were very tired and frightened," he said. He felt that Ciel should be kinder to his younger self.

Ciel eyed Sebastian from his periphery, quick, before looking forward again. "I hardly knew what to think of my situation. I might have even convinced myself that my parents weren't really dead. I kept hoping they would save me, even when I knew it was impossible. My life had changed so quickly that it didn't feel real. Maybe that was why I hardly put up a fight. I don't know." He frowned like he was truly trying to grasp his past perspective and struggling with it.

"You were likely in shock," Sebastian supplied.

Ciel nodded slightly at first, then with conviction. "That would have to explain it… Because I scarcely did anything." He closed his eyes. "I just let everything happen to me. I didn't fight." He opened his eyes again to rest at an austere half-lid. "But what would I do anyway. I was only a child. I knew I was helpless. What was the use."

This was continuing to paint a very vivid picture of how the young master felt about adults and children. Sebastian marveled this while he waited for Ciel to continue.

Ciel's thumb rubbed faster over the transferware, "I always just let them do whatever they wanted. If it was bad before, it was worse when we arrived. And then… Well, everyday it was always…" He paused and blinked hard, like he was trying to clear something before his eyes. Shook his head. "In the cult… that is. That's when I was taken to the church you eventually found me in." He began scratching at his upper arm like it was itching terribly. He rushed out, "But I don't have to tell you. You already know what happened there."

That wasn't entirely true. Sebastian didn't exactly know what happened there. Ciel had scarcely granted any details on what the members of the cult had done to him. Just the phrase, "They treated me like filth in every way possible," out from between a child's milk teeth like a dragon learning to spit fire. And then there were the screams and pleas that came from Ciel mid-nightmare... and the brand mark on his back… and the hints here and there in conversation, such as the suggestion that the actions of those devil-worshippers were what turned him into an adult…

In that way, yes, Sebastian knew.

"… You have offered me a fairly good idea of what happened," he decided to answer.

Ciel was looking straight down at the floor, as if very ashamed. "Mhm."

Sebastian hummed a sad sound in his throat. "You were treated very wrongly. It's all right that you didn't try to fight it. It wasn't your fault that you were hurt the way you were."

"I know," Ciel said from far away.

"I'm glad you know." Sebastian looked at him even when the boy wouldn't look back. "You appear ashamed. Is that how you feel?"

Ciel coughed strangely. "Mm…"

"Why do you think you feel ashamed? Would you want to tell me about that?"

Yesterday's tremble was returning in full force. "For one thing, I s…start to get l-like this." He more chattered the words than spoke them. Sebastian almost reached to take the teacup to prevent a spill, but Ciel put it on the bedside table first and wrapped his arms around himself. "I know n-nothing is really happening, but it starts to feel that way," he said, words piling atop each other. "It starts to feel like anything could happen any second if I think about it-t too much. I don't know why. This is why I try not to think about it. I used to be able to make myself stop, just like that, but then it didn't work anymore." His breaths were coming short, but he suddenly gave a sour, spoiled laugh. "That's really how I would do it, by the way. I would just say 'stop thinking about it' and think about other things. I used to pride myself on how I could do it like the snap of my fingers. It felt so easy."

He doesn't realize it, but he was pushing all of his 'thinking about it' off until later. There was no way for a ten-year-old child to understand that on his own, though. "It's incredible how long you were able to cope with what happened using that method," Sebastian said.

Ciel sucked in on his cheek. "I'd prefer it if I could still do it."

"No one could manage such a thing forever," Sebastian was quick to interject. "Eventually, it had to stop working, young master. Your emotions were not gone, they were simply latent. I imagine that that is a part of why they now feel as fresh as if they have just happened."

Ciel coughed again. "Oh." He rubbed at his arms. "I hope you're right… because…" He coughed. "Th-Then it might just be normal to act like this."

Sebastian reached to his pocket for the handkerchief. "There is nothing odd to me about your behavior. You have been hurt." He held it out. "Here we are."

Ciel accepted but just held the cloth in his hands. "If I start crying, don't say anything about it." He coughed again. "I mean it. I don't care. I don't want you to say anything nice or try to calm me down."

Sebastian didn't much care for that plan. "Why do you think it is that you don't want to be treated kindly when you feel this way?"

The shame crept back into the boy's expression again. "Because I can't… indulge this sort of thing." He curled over a bit into himself, like it was halfway to a fetal position. "If I don't keep a tight grip, I'll break things again, or I'll yell. That's how it was in March, and yesterday too. If I let go of control even a little bit, I act just like a child does. And if I act like a child does, I start to feel like anything could happen to me. Do you finally understand?" Ciel's back tensed even as it was curled over. "Can you imagine if Lizzie or Aunt Francis saw me like this? I would be a humiliation."

"I don't think you are anything of the sort," said Sebastian. "I'm glad you're sharing this with me."

"Oh, shut up." Ciel sniffled pitifully again. He smudged at his nose with the back of his wrist. "I'm not 'sharing' anything, I don't have a choice in it. I just can't stop shaking. Don't touch me, though. Don't do anything to me without telling me or who knows what'll happen."

"I promise I won't touch you." Sebastian stayed very still. "And I hear you saying you don't want to indulge this part of yourself. But, if you want to know my opinion… I think you deserve to do just that."

Ciel looked at him sidelong, concerned. "This? This kind of atrocious behavior?"

"I don't think it's atrocious. In a way, there is a world of wisdom to it. When you hold everything inside, no one can know what you are feeling. It is when you show how deep your sadness goes that we are at last able to take care of your needs." Sebastian closed his eyes. "If anything, I think you ought to fuss more. Maybe Lyle could even be your mentor in it. He's quite the expert at this."

"Huh?!" Now Ciel seemed truly bewildered. "Expert? What are you on about?"

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "It may sound backwards, but I assure you that I'm being quite serious. You recognized it yourself: Lyle got out of trouble by acting like a little child. Just look at all the attention he's managed to get. He's out of school now, safe at home with his parents… He wouldn't cease yelling until he got exactly what he needed. I must say, very impressive work."

At this point, Ciel had almost stopped trembling. He stared at Sebastian like he'd lost his mind. "Impressive! It's not impressive to be lying in bed all day! Nor is it a good thing!"

"Lyle seems to think it is," Sebastian pressed.

Ciel leapt to his feet. "What is this about!" he cried. "Lyle isn't having a good time or enjoying himself! And it certainly isn't healthy to lay around all the time doing nothing!"

"I never said Lyle was healthy." Sebastian was measured in his response. "I said he was an expert at getting what he needs."

Ciel only glared down at him. "Just what are you trying to say?!"

Time to explain before they lost all ability to return to calm. Sebastian offered a benevolent countenance. "What I'm trying to say, young master, is that maybe you can trust your instincts better than you think. I believe that the behavior you consider shameful often serves a secondary purpose. Lyle is giving in to his childish desires, and that is what awarded him safety. You broke a vase and yelled at others to listen to you, and now I'm here to help you and talk to you. Do you understand now?" Ciel was looking hard at the floor. "Maybe what you call 'childish' behavior isn't here to hurt you or humiliate you. Maybe it's here to be your guide."

Ciel didn't like this at all. "And what sort of guidance do you think that is? You're saying I should go around breaking things and crying all the time?" He was blinking quickly now too.

Sebastian looked back at him, undaunted. "I'm saying that if acting like an adult isn't working the way it used to, maybe you could try giving in to more youthful impulses, yes. Yesterday, that did mean breaking a vase. But it also meant telling Mr. Cavendish and Mr. Whitaker how you'd like to be treated. It meant you cried and were honest with me and allowed me to hold you. It meant today, you were willing to rest and talk with me about parts of your life that have caused you a lot of grief."

Ciel held himself compact and stiff. His face was growing hot as he looked at the floor again. "Stop talking about it like it's so easy for me," he said at last. "I told you, I don't want to indulge this kind of behavior. It's going to turn me into someone I don't want to be. I'm already disturbed by how I feel when I act like a child. Don't tell me it's all right. Don't tell me to allow this. I don't want that."

He doesn't want it because it isn't safe. Being an adult is safe, and being a child isn't. "I understand, young master. I shouldn't have tried to push it." At least for now, it might be too soon.

Ciel gave an audible exhale and propped a hand on his forehead before pushing through his bangs. "So, is that enough for now, then?"

"You are the one who gets to decide when it is enough talking, young master. Did you say everything about that horrible month that you wanted to say for the time being?"

"…" There was another long stretch of silence. Sebastian was glad he had lit the lamps when he came in; the room was already starting to darken with the fall of night; the breath of winter crept ever closer. "Whatever. There aren't words to say what else they did to me anyway."

"There are words for all of what they did, no doubt," said Sebastian, which earned him a rather startled glare, and he soothed, "but you may not have those words yet, or want them. That's all right. If you decide you would like to give further voice to your experiences, I can help you see it through."

Ciel looked at him with a mix of unease and something else familiar… a rare emotion that shone as a small yet sure glimmer in that blue eye. Longing. Sebastian's heart almost burst to see it. There is a part of him that wants this.

Ciel didn't want to want it. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Well… I suppose now I've come to know your arguments for why I should be a child," he said with forced haughtiness. "But: that doesn't mean that you're wearing me down. I still say I'm an adult, even if I'm the only one left to think it."

Sebastian's eyes cinched the slightest bit. He does so love to throw my own phrasing back in my face… "I understand. I won't try and change your mind, then."

"Good." With that, the bluster was able to fall away. Ciel's shoulders lost some of their tension, and bravely, he was able to stand there with his true shyness on display. "But… even I know when I've made a mistake… sometimes." The color of embarrassment hadn't yet faded from the boy's ears. "I did act like a child, and I don't have anyone to blame for it but myself. After I'd gone and promised I'd let you help me, I still got mad at you for it anyway…" His fists twitched, balled up at his sides. "So… If you think I should… ask for help with Funtom work… and with managing the shire… You're probably right and I should probably listen to you."

It pained Ciel to admit it, clearly. He was already so flooded with humility. Sebastian's chest lifted with utter pride. He stood to his feet too, and Ciel looked at him with a wary grimace.

"I think I speak for more than just myself when I say we would love nothing more than to help you," Sebastian said. "Thank you for allowing us all to come to your aid."

The longing-glimmer bejeweled Ciel's eye for a single second more before the boy made himself stop wishing. "This is still odd for me," he grumbled, and reached over to the cloche to reveal the chocolate macarons beneath. " I don't forget you're only 'going soft' on me because of that stupid foreign magic. So? Are you doing anything about that or not?"

Ah. "It has been awfully busy around here lately…" Sebastian couldn't help defending himself. "Getting ready for winter, wondering after you… And I can't possibly leave the manor unguarded. Not to mention, Undertaker has not written me with any new breakthroughs."

"Well don't just wait for him!" After barking this, Ciel bit one of the biscuits in half and chewed grouchily. He spoke with his mouth still full, "How embarrassing that you'd let Undertaker do more than you when you don't even trust him. I want answers, damn it!"

"I promise you, I do too." Sebastian put his hands up to calm things down. Though admittedly, I don't feel so poorly towards the foreign magic as I used to… "I'll have to devise some sort of plan, then. You can leave it to me."

Ciel chewed pensively and swallowed. "Tuh. I'm not so sure about that."

They could leave it there. Sebastian knew, for as much as they talked about that day, that they weren't finished talking yet. Ciel still kept many secrets under lock and key… for that was what suited him. But it was alright if it took months more to persuade him to open up about his pain. Years, even. These days, Sebastian tried not to think of the stipulations of their contract, or of the foreign magic. He wanted nothing more than to live in a world where this was his life and his purpose: being a parent to this incredible child who deserved far more love than he had been given.

But nothing good could last forever. This Sebastian knew.

What he couldn't possibly have known was that this goodness would be threatened in only a mere handful of weeks. Soon enough, all of his building questions would be answered, all of his greatest fears would be realized, and everything that he was would be put to the ultimate test—all within a single death-scented night.