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.

32. The Riggwelter

Fairclough's glove could have burned a hole in his tailcoat pocket as Sebastian crouched on the rooftop just above the window of the master bedroom. He had run out of excuses to stay there and yet he did not move an inch. Ciel was asleep; he had been asleep for nearly an hour; and though the boy had laid fussily awake until after midnight before at last drifting off, to Sebastian's distress and grief no summons had come.

It was the first time since August that they had gone without one of their nightly meetings… though Sebastian was sure that he could not know Ciel's feelings more keenly than he did now. Disgust, disappointment, disapproval — and his conscience deserved the jab of each one. It made him wonder and worry over the boy more than ever. What if a nightmare came while he was away? What if Ciel called out for him and he wasn't close by? So Sebastian remained a gargoyle on his gutter perch, even when he knew how important it was to bring the glove to Undertaker for examination before any magic that might be attached to it could fade.

After their argument in the bedroom, the rest of the day had gone exactly as Ciel wished. Sebastian had not seen him for any more of it: not dinner or tea or bedtime. Tanaka was the one who was called when the hour for supper was upon them, after Ciel had woken from a four-hour nap Sebastian had sensed him take. He was overwhelmed enough to rest for that long… Sebastian was all but wringing his hands with nerves when Tanaka returned to the kitchen at a quarter past seven.

"Did the young master want the tapioca soup?" Sebastian gestured with his head toward the stovetop as he spoke; he felt his words come out more quickly than he was used to. "It's getting rather late. Or perhaps he doesn't have much of an appetite?"

Tanaka's face bore a curious sort of expression, almost as if he were softly amused by the whole situation. What can possibly be so funny at a time like this? "The young master says that for dinner he would like the chef to prepare pancakes, in the American style," Tanaka announced to the room.

Bard was eating his own dinner at the table with the other two servants. His head snapped up at that. "Hah?! Wait… are you sayin' what I think yer sayin'?!"

"Bard has dinner duty!" Finny sing-songed with his mouth full of marrowfat peas. He hadn't realized anything was wrong yet. "I'll have a pancake too, please, as long it's not burnt!"

Mey-Rin didn't know the circumstances either, but she at least was properly surprised. "The young master wants Bardroy to cook?! I-Is he ill or something?!"

"Aww, c'mon Mey, I ain't that bad…"

"Bard, when you made the young master flapjacks during that storm in August, he took one bite and found an eggshell! You had better shape up this time!"

"Well how the hell am I supposed to break an egg without the shell goin' into a thousand tiny pieces, huh?! The whole point is to break it!"

Sebastian found himself flustered too. "Is he certain? After the heavy food he ate today… And then there's the sugar from the syrup… This, of all things?"

"It's what he has requested. We mustn't deny him." Tanaka clapped his gloved hands together; as always when the young master had work for him, he assumed his role with aplomb. "Finish eating quickly, Bard, and then to your task. And Sebastian, would you please follow me to the servant's office for a moment?"

"Yes, of course." Sebastian was quick on Tanaka's heels. He was anxious for any report on Ciel, any opportunity he was granted to mend things. Unfortunately, the time for that was yet to come.

When they arrived in the little room, the amused expression from before had crept back over Tanaka's features. Again, Sebastian had to wonder at it. "Sebastian," Tanaka began, an eyebrow beginning to lift, "did you by any chance try to scold the young master when you returned from Mr. Fairclough's this afternoon?"

Ah. "I… I suppose… I suppose I did," Sebastian admitted carefully, wincing even as he said it. "I was trying to convince him to listen to me… but it was entirely the wrong perspective to take."

Tanaka shook his head, chuckling lightly. "Yes, I imagine it was! You mustn't scold a child when he hasn't done anything wrong," he tutted with a smile. "It will only convince him to resent you for misusing your power, and for failing to understand him."

Sebastian sighed. "Yes… I know that now… I was just feeling desperate."

"And when the young master speaks with you again, that is what you will tell him," Tanaka reassured. "You must be honest with him without trying to control him. I promise that you will see much better results if you do not focus on getting your way but on expressing your view. And then let him express his and allow him to proceed as he sees fit."

"But isn't it our job to protect him?" Sebastian could not keep the desperation and worry from his voice, not anymore. "Shouldn't we stop him when he's putting himself in harm's way, even if it means he'll hate us for it?"

Tanaka looked at him frankly. "We do not know for certain that Fairclough is dangerous. And we cannot protect the young master from what we do not know. Let him pave his own way and be there to catch him if he falls."

Right; those had been Agni's words too, hadn't they? Sometimes children have to fall in order to grow. But Sebastian wasn't convinced that Ciel needed to take the kind of fall that came with trusting a careless adult. Tripping up the stairs and leaping from bookshelves onto table corners — these were the falls children were meant to take. The matters of adults should be left to adults. It was just as Bard had said. But did Agni and Tanaka have a point here too?

"Sebastian… Protecting a child is more complicated than simply keeping him from that which you fear," Tanaka said suddenly, as if he could read where Sebastian's mind had wandered to. "The more you try to control, the less influence you have. And the more you try to keep knowledge away from a child, the more that child is going to seek it out. Don't lose sight of who the young master is simply because you fear for his safety. He is still a precocious, perceptive individual capable of great strength, in spite of and because of what he has endured. He can shoulder the knowledge of your worry, too. What he cannot be is responsible for your worry."

Sebastian felt those words like a necessary sting. "Yes… I put my feelings on him today, didn't I," he said softly. "Instead of taking care of him, I essentially forced him to manage my fears… I must do better."

"You will," Tanaka said brightly. "I am certain you will. But for now, we must see to it that Bardroy does not burn down the kitchen."

Fortunately, Bard had barely begun the process of laying out his ingredients. Even still, he had spilled some flour and allowed an egg to roll off the worktable. "Eh, sorry," he said when he noticed Sebastian looming over him as he mopped at the floor with an old rag. Mey-Rin and Finny were looking on with silent, owl-eyed interest as they spooned up half-moon carrot slices from their bowls of tapioca soup.

"Never mind," said Sebastian, both in response to Bard's mistake and to the two servants who had helped themselves to the rejected soup without asking permission, "let's start from the beginning. I shall walk you through it to ensure that these pancakes are fit for an earl."

It had been a long time since Sebastian had attempted to instruct Bard on cooking. The "chef's" very earliest days in the manor had consisted of a lot of burnt food and a lot of grumbling on Sebastian's part as he attempted to find anything an ex-soldier could possibly manage in a noble kitchen. For a while, the answer had been nothing, and Bard had been delegated to cleaning the hearth and managing the horses. It had eventually been discovered during a mission away that Bard could make flapjacks without leaving the kitchen in shambles, and since then Sebastian would at least let Bard pound spices and mind the stockpots. He was not completely hopeless. Regardless, if this meal was going to turn out well, it was going to require a lot of close monitoring.

"How do you usually make pancakes? Tell me the process," Sebastian said.

Bard pointed at his ingredients as he spoke. "Ain't nothin' to it. You just get a bowl and pour in the flour, some sugar, some milk, some eggs, some butter, and a little baking powder, you stir it until there's only some lumps, and then you pour a big circle of batter into a hot pan. You let one side cook, you flip it, you let it cook some more, and then you've got a flapjack." He scratched his neck. "Never really figured out when to flip it, though. I just kinda let it go until it smokes."

"I… see." Young master, do you really suppose it is me who is suffering the worse punishment… "Go and fetch another bowl. And the salt and vanilla extract as well. We are going to reinvent your idea of what a pancake can be once and for all."

They worked together, and they worked hard. Tonight, Bard brought more enthusiasm to the task than all the times before that Sebastian had tried to instruct him combined. This was not the Bard of three years ago, who still lived on the battlefield in his own mind and scoffed at the art of cooking. This time he was determined to get it right, and so Sebastian did his best to be patient.

They measured out the ingredients ("It's one cup, not a heaping cup. Use a straight-edged spatula to level off the excess flour." "Hold up. You say that as if I know what a straight-edged spatula is."), prepared the dry and wet mixtures separately ("Stir carefully, please. The batter should never slop outside the bowl." "Listen, I can't be careful and fast enough at the same time. We gotta pick one."), and finally measured the first teacupful of batter into the pan ("Flip it now. Do you see the bubbles forming on the surface? That means it's ready." "Wait, really? No kiddin'. That's kinda wild."). Sebastian hustled Bard through the application of maple syrup and powdered sugar. Pancakes were always best eaten fresh from their heatsource, after all. But Bard seemed surprisingly reluctant to let Tanaka take them away.

"I never thought I could make anything like that," he said, uncharacteristically sheepish as Finny and Mey-Rin applauded him. "Those look like the kinda pancakes you'd dream about when you were out in the field. Not like anything I'd create with my own two hands. I think Joanna'd lose her mind if she saw them. I'm losin' my mind right now."

The pancakes were misshapen, slightly different sizes and colors too. The powdered sugar was all over the place, and the syrup looked messy. But they were cooked through without being burnt and there weren't any eggshells in them. And Bard was beaming at the stack like it was his newborn baby.

"You did very well," Sebastian told him, meaning it. "I am very impressed."

Sebastian's approving smile flinched in surprise as Bard elbowed him in the arm. "Yeah, yeah, we're not a bad team, eh?" Bard laughed. "Maybe I'll get some more kitchen privileges at this rate, eh? Just kiddin', I'd really rather not be counted on for this. It's a lotta work, cookin'. A lot to think about. I don't think I could make a flapjack like that ever again. My old way's good enough for me."

Finny and Mey-Rin were distraught. "No, Bard, no! Do it Sebastian's way from here on!" "Please, listen to what Sebastian just taught you!"

But apparently the "old way" was what Ciel wanted too. Tanaka soon returned with the plate untouched and the message from up top that the pancakes should be made by the chef with no help from anybody else.

Twenty minutes later, Sebastian watched in horror as Tanaka carried away a plate of spongy splatters that were umber on one side and cream-colored on the other. Bard moped with his forehead resting on the servant's table; Mey-Rin patted his back unceremoniously while Finny devoured the first batch of pancakes, making happy noises and still none the wiser about why he was the one eating them and not the boy upstairs.

It did not take a genius to imagine that Ciel's tossing and turning that night was born from a stomachache caused by those abominable pancakes. Ciel had, shockingly, eaten more than a few bites of them… Sebastian grimaced just to think about it. This was just like when the young master had tested Sebastian's nerves by reading Doyle's horror story before bed: Ciel had tested his own nerves at the same time. Just what am I going to do with that boy…

Nothing could be done now. Ciel had managed to fall asleep at a quarter past twelve, in spite of a nausea, restlessness, and a wounded ego. Sebastian had never felt the itch of waiting so strongly as he did now. But what good would waiting around do if Ciel remained asleep and an order never came? That was what finally convinced Sebastian to leave his post: he could forget the slowness of the minutes when he had other worries to occupy him. Staying here would be like, as a human might say, watching a pot come to a boil.

Plus, he truly couldn't ignore the importance of getting to Undertaker any longer. He was both nervous and impatient to find out about the foreign magic. If Fairclough were the cause of it, the fury he felt in his chest would be increased a hundredfold, but so would the freedom. The young master's orders wouldn't be able to hold him back anymore. The mile of distance he was forced to maintain could be closed in a flash as soon as Fairclough was identified as a genuine threat. Sebastian halfway longed for it to be true, but it was a delicate matter. To attack Fairclough now did not seem that it would help his case: Ciel had to know the truth before Sebastian made any further moves.

And if Fairclough weren't the cause of the foreign magic… the five-thousand-foot barrier would remain firm and Sebastian would be no closer to the answer. This was, unfortunately, the least desirable of the two possibilities.

Mey-Rin responded to the knock at her door within half a minute. She was pulling back her hair with her hands and tucking it under the collar of her shawl as she opened it. "D'you need me on rooftop duty, Mr. Sebastian?" she asked through a yawn; Sebastian's nighttime excursions were apparently no longer very surprising.

"That's correct." Sebastian considered his pocket watch. "It is currently just past one o'clock. I should not be more than a few hours, so please alert Tanaka if I have not returned by sunrise."

Mey-Rin opened her mouth, seemed to think better of speaking, and simply said, "Understood, sir."

"You may sleep in as long as you like," Sebastian said, and felt the edge of his words dull as he added, "I expect to have quite a bit of time on my hands tomorrow, so… I shall be able to cover your morning chores with ease."

Mey-Rin nodded awkwardly. "A-Alright, sir. If'n you say so."

"Very good. Then I shall depart as soon as I see that you are at your post."

Sebastian turned to walk down to the kitchen, only to pause on the first step when he heard from behind him, "Er, but Mr. Sebastian? By any chance is, eh, something… the matter?"

A sigh before reminding, "Now, Mey-Rin, we've been over this. You understand you mustn't ask me for what reason I am leaving the premises. That information may be classified."

"Ah, I know, sir! Eh, that's not my meanin' though," Mey-Rin stuttered. She shifted her weight, nervous. "Wh-What I mean really is… um, are you well, Mr. Sebastian?"

Oh. Was he well?

"… Well now that you mention it, I don't think I am," said Sebastian, frowning as he turned back around.

"I-I didn't expect you to say it so easily!" Mey-Rin chirped.

A fair point. "I am a little surprised myself," Sebastian admitted.

Mey-Rin then smiled understandingly. She adjusted her shawl around her shoulders against the night air. "You've done something to upset the young master, haven't you?"

Sebastian felt himself wilting even more. "It was so obvious?"

"Well, yes," Mey-Rin said with a little laugh. "I can't think of any other reason he would reject your cookin' for Bard's." She ducked her chin. "But I know the feelin' of it, I do. There isn't anything worse to me than the young master's disappointment, even though he's only ever disappointed when I've earned it. I am only alive because of him, y'know… so I feel I owe him that life he saved. Maybe it's a similar feelin' for you?"

Sebastian paused. She was asking him if he'd lived a life like hers or Bard's or Finny's. He of course never talked about his "past"; it was nothing like a human's, and since he couldn't lie, he had instead chosen to remain mysterious. But even before the "sympathy beast" had arrived, Sebastian had understood that his existence before Ciel now meant very little to him at all. "Sebastian" himself only existed because of Ciel.

And the demon behind Sebastian could never be the same.

"It is similar for me," he said, soft.

Mey-Rin nodded kindly. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you once take a day off or a holiday or anything of the like," she said. "Why don't you tonight, after you've done whatever it is that's required of you? Bard likes to wander to the village on his day off. Even now, I'm sure there's a tavern that is still open, I do."

Taverns held no interest to Sebastian whatsoever. He was about to dismiss such a necessity, but stopped himself short. Again he was planning to forego advice that he himself would administer to the young master. Why follow the well-trod path of hypocrisy when he could gain a new lesson? Of course he wasn't human, he didn't need recreation the way humans did, but trying something different could be a better use for his time than sitting around and wondering if a sleeping child would summon him.

"Perhaps… it would be worthwhile to consider an alternate plan for the rest of my evening," he said carefully.

Mey-Rin's shoulders lifted with delight. "Oh! Yes! That's wonderful! I mean, I think this will be very good for you!"

She really did look happy about it. "Maybe it will," he said slowly. "Thank you." He turned again. "I shall leave you to get ready now."

"... Ah! Um, yes! I'll do just that!" Mey-Rin finally stuttered.

Once the maid was at her post, the first thing Sebastian thought upon springing into the night air was how it was rapidly becoming too cold to take Ciel on any more surveillance jaunts. Sebastian sighed. His thoughts were always fully absorbed in the boy these days… for better or worse. His parenting obsession had driven a stake between them today… But what a struggle it all was! Ciel needed independence, but he also needed protecting. Ciel needed affection, but he also needed space. The balancing act was more wearying than any Sebastian had known before. Maybe Mey-Rin was wiser than he gave her credit for, offering him the chance for respite. He never would have considered taking a break on his own.

So he would try it, but only after he had gone to Undertaker for the assessment of Fairclough's glove. Right now, nothing could be more important than that. He moved at his top speed, firing like a shooting star through the October night and landing before the funeral parlor within ten minutes. He smoothed his hair and lapels and then put his hand to the door. The latch clicked when he tried the handle, and Sebastian rolled his eyes. It was a real testament to Undertaker's frightening reputation that the building remained unlocked no matter what lonesome hour of the night it was…

Sebastian entered without announcement. Undertaker was already waiting for him. He was sitting on the coffin at the far end of the room by the fireplace, his nearly translucent hair backlit by its orange glow. "Oh butler, why don't you make yourself at home?" he snickered with merry sarcasm. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you. You never have been very interested in managing your aura, but you are telegraphing your presence especially loudly tonight… I could sense your arrival well in advance. Do tell, what has you so stirred up…?"

During their previous meeting, that Reaper Othello had discovered the foreign magic on Ciel's eye patch and Undertaker had grown enraged enough to threaten Sebastian. Since then, Undertaker had clearly returned to his usual laissez-faire attitude. Sebastian personally remained unwavering in his stoicism. He reached into his coat pocket and tossed out the glove so that it landed right at Undertaker's feet.

"This needs to be examined for the foreign magic at once," he said, meaning to be demanding but knowing all he managed was to sound tired and worried. "It belongs to Henri Fairclough. It's already been half a day since I acquired it. But surely some magic may yet be attached."

Those dark, claw-like nails reached out to pluck the item from the floor. "With over half a day in your possession, it's even possible that it picked up some magic from you," Undertaker chuckled again, giving the glove a limp-wristed shake as if it were covered in cobwebs. He stood to walk to the microscope at its place on the table. "But fret not… if the foreign magic is embedded in its fabric, I will know. Let's take a look-see, shall we?"

Sebastian was unmoving by the door while Undertaker situated himself before the Reaper device. "You ought to know that I did a bit of spying myself," Undertaker continued, turning a knob to adjust the microscope's stage. "On your Fairclough, that is. He has friends in high places, hm? Sedgemore House isn't just any residence."

Sebastian was already on edge, but this caused a spike of curiosity that simply couldn't remain hidden. "You spied on Fairclough?" I should have thought to do that before I lost the opportunity forever! Then again, the odds of Sebastian leaving Ciel's side any longer than absolutely necessary were low these days. "What did you learn?"

Undertaker stuck his face against the lens. "You ask as if I have a duty to tell you…" With a loud crack, the fire in the hearth flared outside the confines of its grate, and Undertaker cackled like a witch. "Temper, temper, butler! You and little Lord Phantomhive have such thin patience alike — of course, it's quite a bit cuter when it's him throwing the fit. But I can't deny that you've paid my usual fee." Still Undertaker made him wait another minute while Sebastian stood there glaring. "Ah, there we are, now I can see what I'm looking at. I suppose you know a Reaper's eyesight is particularly miserable? But most of the time my other senses serve me just fine, heh heh… Sometimes I even think I can see better without vision."

Sebastian had to resist the twitching impulse to tap his foot. "Enough rambling. Can you see any magic or not? You know that my lord's safety could be on the line."

"I have my doubts that this Fairclough is our lead. If I felt otherwise, you'd see that more serious side of me that I unfortunately let slip last time." Hunched over, Undertaker shifted the glove very slowly under the lens with both hands, like a seamstress at her sewing machine. "There is foreign magic here, but so far I can only make out yours. I can tell because it's releasing quickly, just on the surface. We must let it fade before I can give you a proper answer about whether or not Fairclough is our source."

The meandering speed at which Undertaker revealed information hadn't been amusing for some months. Sebastian pressed, "Tell me how your spying went. What did you hear?"

"I heard as much as I needed to hear." Undertaker took the glove out from the microscope and began waving it around again. "A telephone call here, a conversation with a footman there… Fairclough seems such a busy man, at least when he bothered to be close enough to the window for me to see him."

"And what did he talk about?" Always, always the Reaper needed prompting.

Undertaker flashed his best crescent moon grin. "Sorry, butler. I don't speak French."

Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Your games are the last thing I need right—"

"He's a human." Undertaker's words were like throwing ice cold water onto flames. "And so are his domestics. Not one of them is special either — not like the humans under your roof. So relax a little, butler. I don't anticipate finding anything on this glove."

But there was a sense of rebellion rising in Sebastian again. "And why should I trust what you have to say?"

"This again, hm? Good grief. Must we run through this song and dance every time?" Undertaker sighed, back at the microscope now. "You never will be satisfied with my answers, and yet you come here anyway. Why is the burden of proof always on my shoulders? You consider us enemies, and so I should feel just as uneasy as you do. Yet at least I am not wasting breath with useless accusations every time you invade my parlor. We have no choice but to tolerate each other, foolish demon. Raise your guard hairs all you like, but it won't change this fact."

"It would help if I knew your motivations for aiding me," Sebastian growled darkly.

"I'm certain it would."

And yet Undertaker did not elaborate on these motivations. He only continued to analyze the glove. Frustration coursed through him, but Sebastian held his tongue. As he waited, he ruminated on his feelings of distrust and humbled himself with the idea that this must be the very emotion the young master experienced when it came to the two of them. But I promise you can trust me, young master. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes to convince you. Whatever it takes…

What would it take?

"It is as I suspected," Undertaker said at last. "There is no magic of any kind attached to Fairclough."

Sebastian felt the weakness seeping through his spine. "But is this really enough to clear his name?"

"It is for myself." The glove was tossed back to sit limply between them. "I don't have the time to go chasing every stray thread. Unlike you, I still need to sleep and eat and work for my living. Come back with better evidence and I'll reconsider it."

Eyes flashed pink as they narrowed. "You say you're truly concerned about the young master's safety and yet you'll sit around and wait for proof to fall into your lap?"

"Come now, we don't even know if little Phantomhive is actually in danger," Undertaker chuckled darkly. That's almost exactly as Tanaka said when we were talking in the servants' office… "It is merely a hypothesis I constructed based on the strangeness of events. Right now, the only one undoubtedly affected by the foreign magic is you. And speaking of which," that smile curled in amusement, "there isn't much left of you unaffected at this point. You've passed the point of no return, butler. You're stuck this way forever."

Sebastian felt a flicker in his breast. He was all lightness then. "Forever?" The word was like air. "I shall never go back to who I was before? There is no chance?"

Undertaker shook his head. "The foreign magic inside you has multiplied exponentially since August. I would call it a parasite, but the structure of that magic is too weak to defeat you all by itself. It's more like… you accepted it as your own." He languished lazily against the edge of the table. "If you didn't want this to happen, you should have been more careful around the boy… You should have kept your distance, like I told you to…"

"No." Sebastian turned his shoulder to leave. "This knowledge is the only true relief you have gifted me since we began our work together."

That creaking laugh touched Sebastian's back as he opened the door. "Heh heh heh… Again the foolish demon is forgetting why he even comes here!" Undertaker sneered after him. "That foreign magic is the very thing that gave you your heart… Do not let your vigilance be dulled~"

Impossible. My vigilance is sharper than ever.

No city ever slept, but London could at least grow heavy-lidded enough that a large shadow leaping across rooftops and alleyways wouldn't attract any notice. Sebastian followed his inner compass until he knew he must have reached the boundary Ciel had set for him: the one-mile radius of protection around Fairclough. Sebastian squared his shoulders, then stretched out a hand to meet it.

Quickly, his fingertips met a stopping point. There was a wall there for him and nobody else. It was invisible. He could rest his palm upon it. He tried to test its pliancy with a good push, but it did not yield an ounce. The order was a firm one, and the evidence against Fairclough was apparently too lacking for Sebastian to utilize the clause that he was "only trying to protect Ciel" in order to surpass the barrier. He was powerless. Fairclough was completely safe from him.

"For now," Sebastian said aloud, the words tinged in acid.

The boundary did not shift minutely under his palm, though. This meant Fairclough wasn't on the move and probably also meant he was asleep. It was, admittedly, the least suspicious thing a person could be doing at this hour. Sebastian tried to let the knowledge comfort him, but he was reluctant as he finally sprang away and left London behind.

A breath in and a breath out. Sebastian didn't need oxygen, but he had learned to mimic what humans did and had grown to find some solace in the act. He needed to move on from his fears, just for a little while. He needed to engage in the singular activity that had never been anything but a joy to him.

Unlike London, the village in the young master's shire did sleep. Mey-Rin had predicted at least a tavern being open, but even that wasn't so. No lamps were lit, no insomniac candles fluttered in upper-floor windows. It looked abandoned at first glance, but even sleeping life imbued a village with a subtle pulse. Not to mention, people were rarely alone in their occupation of any space.

Dogs and horses, cattle and donkeys, chickens and pigs… They were staple denizens of rural life in this part of the world, and Sebastian had consistently pitied their feeble minds. Man had looked at them and seen a beast who could live for his bidding. He had bred and tamed them for generations, until they had nothing in common with their wild counterparts. A domestic animal was a pathetic thing. The idea that there were life forms that existed specifically for human demand… Who ever said that God wasn't cruel? Who ever said that demons were the wicked ones?

And then, there were cats.

It wasn't any wonder that Sebastian was drawn to them. They were the one earthly creature that, instead of being tamed, had tamed humans to their existence, using their infallible mousing skills to win their place by the fireside. They were the demons of the mortal realm, so charming in their wiles that they had been invited into domesticity, not forced. They formed contracts of their own without speaking a single word. Sebastian bowed to their superiority without shame. Cats were nothing if not the epitome of perfection.

And they were… incredibly soft, round-headed, and fit neatly in his arms too.

There was one cat in particular Sebastian loved slightly above the rest of the manor's frequent visitors, and he knew She came to the village in the colder months where the opportunities for hunting (and for finding scraps) were improved. Sebastian also knew She was best called for without words — that sort of thing was for dogs. Cats did not answer to summons. They accepted offerings.

Sebastian made only one sound and it was to pry back the lid on the tin of fish. That and the smell was all She'd need to be convinced. He did not doubt She would appear before any other cats did. Those who lasted long enough in the world of felines gained a reputation among their kind. Her authority was never challenged; when there was choice food around, She would always be the first to claim it.

Sebastian waited in the alleyway between a general store and a decades-old but well-maintained granary. It didn't take Her long to arrive. She was almost entirely soundless, and he noticed Her only moments before Her velveteen head appeared, as if out of thin air, to sample the fish. The way She too could evaporate like water into night made Her especially precious in Sebastian's regard.

"Hello, my darling," he crooned as he approached to scratch between Her shoulderblades. She knew him well and was unsurprised by his touch. "I have missed you, sweet one… How delightfully fat you've grown this winter! Mrs. Baker must be watching over you like I requested. Of course, there is never too much food for you…"

She purred loudly beneath his hand. "I'm sorry that I haven't been able to visit you this season. The truth is that I… Oh?" Suddenly, there were three littler Hers scampering out from beneath the granary, graceless and tumbling, just close enough to be observed but certain to stay out of Sebastian's reach. They mewled and rocked on their unsteady paws, doubting their mother's trust of this strange man who had no smell.

They could not comprehend Sebastian's adoration. "You had another litter!" he exclaimed; She munched unceremoniously on a sardine's head. "Oh, how lovely they are. They take after you in every respect. As they should. The father never does help with child-rearing in your world, does he?" Sebastian frowned in scorn of the unknown tom whose animal instinct had failed to equip him with the matters of duty that She intrinsically understood. I suppose I was once no better… "You've done well with them. They are as fat as you, just as they are supposed to be."

She had always been a benevolent mother. When the most adventurous of Her kittens joined Her at the bounty, She allowed it without protest. The kitten was clumsy in its eating; it was likely at the stage where it had just begun the weaning process and was still unaccustomed to solid food. Cats' lives were tragically short, even compared to a human's, and they grew to adulthood in nearly a years' time. Sebastian smiled sadly to himself. I know someone who wishes he would be fully grown in just a year…

"I have one of my own now as well," he found himself telling Her. He paused. "Well… I suppose I've had one for a while now. I was just too idiotic to realize it." He reached out a hand to the kitten, and it mewled its protest of the touch. "Yours sounds like my young master. He isn't accustomed to affection either. He would rather fend it off while privately yearning for it."

Sebastian took his hand back, feeling the pain of this truth. "I need to help him understand that he can be loved," he spoke his thoughts as they came to him. "I need him to see that being held can be nurturing… that showing his true emotions is nothing to be ashamed of… and that I can be the one to help him. That I want to be the one to help him." He sighed out his nose. "I did not do a very good job of showing him that yesterday. But all I can do is try again."

She polished off a final sardine and left the rest to Her curious brood before approaching to arch against Sebastian's knees. He plucked Her up, and She nested happily in his arms. "Really… you could teach my young master a thing or two, couldn't you?" he chuckled as he stroked beneath Her chin. "Actually, I suppose he will let me hold him like this… under the guise of travel or surveillance, of course. Everything must have a pretense with him."

He watched the kittens eat as he held Her close. Then he reached out to the same kitten as before and flickered his finger against the shell of its tiny ear. It mewled again but did not protest as badly as before. "He will know just how sorry I am," he promised, "and then I'll let him see that he can still trust me. I'll do whatever it takes."

Whatever it took… whatever that may be.

Sebastian spent a sweet hour with them before the cats became too sleepy from playing and sheltered back beneath the granary. Mey-Rin was relieved from her post at three a.m. When she asked if he'd had enough of a break, Sebastian smiled to let her know that her advice had helped. Soon, the house was back to sleeping with the same soft hush as the kittens at their mother's belly. Every human beneath the roof had once learned and unlearned to sleep with one eye open thanks to Sebastian's infallible surveillance. Even the otherwise indomitable Ciel Phantomhive had accepted that he could afford to close his eyes and become no more dangerous than a lamb for at least eight hours a night. Sebastian stood above the master bedroom window and tried to relax in the forced peace of that little soul. Dawn would break not long from then, and with it would come the storm.

---

Sebastian began his day in just the way he had finished the previous: as an observer to what was usually his duty.

"There isn't much that I can reliably cook," Tanaka explained just after daybreak, "but rice porridge is so easy that even a child could handle it."

Sebastian watched Tanaka stir the pot full of a grainy mush as bright white as fresh cream. "The young master still doesn't want my cooking then." Spoken as a statement, not a question; Tanaka was sure to be right.

"It's a part of his rebellion," Tanaka explained, and Sebastian was almost surprised to hear the note of remorse in the steward's voice. Tanaka was usually on Ciel's side in these cases (not that Sebastian minded). "He is attempting to cut you out of his life as much as he can in order to prove you aren't necessary to him. But you're the only one here who can cook more than a few meals. I don't know how much longer he'll last."

"This porridge will be very soothing for his stomach at least." Goodness knows he needs it after Fairclough's silly little luncheon… and those awful pancakes. "But I don't imagine it will interest him for more than one meal."

"I don't think so either." Tanaka moved to the pantry at the same time Finny slouched in from the servant's staircase, rubbing his eyes. "I'll add some pickled carrots and onions for a bit of flavor. Hopefully he won't turn them away… I don't know how to julienne vegetables the way that you do."

Finny blinked curiously at the scene. "Now Mr. Tanaka is cooking for the young master?" he said, as if he must still be dreaming. "Are we all going to switch jobs today? Can I play with the horses?"

"If you finish your other chores, you may." Sebastian plated Finny some stewed tomatoes, baked beans, and thick bacon. He smoothed down the shaggy blond hair with one hand as he passed over the food with the other. "This is a bit long. It's almost time for you to get a trim, isn't it?"

Finny leaned into the scratch of Sebastian's fingers. "Mhmmm. Oh, I think Mey-Rin is still asleep, by the way. She might be sick. Do you want me to go check on her?"

"There is no need. She was up late on lookout duty last night. Make sure to stack your dish neatly by the sink when you're finished, yes?"

Sebastian could feel Finny's eyes boring into his back as he departed for the dry-larder while Tanaka stayed at the stovetop stirring the porridge, instead of the other way around. Now isn't the moment for explanations. Sebastian turned his focus to taking stock of their food supply. He tested the seal on the milk, studied butter and cheese for signs of mold, and twisted jars around to check their lids for corrosion. But it was nigh impossible not to keep the young master ever-present in the back of his mind.

Around seven o'clock Ciel stirred awake, and Sebastian heard Tanaka leave the area at the ringing of the servant's bells. Considering how early this was for the young master to rise, Sebastian wondered if his stomach was the cause. Hunger or aching, which could it be… Sebastian took a breath in and a breath out and shook his head and tested the scent of some raw chicken for spoilage. Ciel would be fine for the moment. Tanaka would bring him the porridge and Ciel would be fine.

Still, like an eager hound, Sebastian popped his head back into the room when Tanaka returned half an hour later. He saw an empty bowl on the tea trolley — the boy had been hungry! What a relief. Unfortunately, there was bad news too.

"The young master didn't want the pickled vegetables." Tanaka frowned under his mustache as he pointed them out. "He didn't say why, but I imagine it's no different than last night. He is rejecting any food that he knows you had a hand in preparing."

Sebastian nodded. "Does he have any sort of message for me?"

"Not yet." Tanaka filled a pot with water under the faucet. "I think he feels a bit ill, but he won't be honest about it," he sighed. "Right now, he is frightened of his reliance on you. He is doing his best to convince himself he requires very little. He does not wish to admit that you are irreplaceable, even when it's so very clear to you and I what you mean to him." Tanaka looked at Sebastian seriously. "He is coming to an understanding, but he leaves himself no choice but to reach it on his own. It is hard to see him this way."

"Yes…" Sebastian frowned upward, in the direction of his boy's soul several floors above them. So very clear what I mean to him… It was a rewarding thought, but the words couldn't sink in fully, not when there was still so much turmoil in the boy's heart. "Isn't there anything I can do to help him come back around?"

Tanaka paused before offering, "What do you think you can do to help him?"

Sebastian blinked. He didn't know… No. This was the child he'd spent years by the side of and the past three months finally getting to see. Sebastian wasn't clueless: he could not care this much for Ciel and remain it. He had to think. If he pushed past his fears and immediate impulses, what did his experience tell him was right?

"… For the rest of the morning, I shall remain out of sight," Sebastian declared to the ceiling. "In the afternoon, I will allow him to see me at my work, to remind him that I have not gone away. He can decide when he wishes for my apology, but I won't hide away from him. I won't let him think he isn't loved."

He felt no shame, only slight surprise, for the final word he'd allowed to slip out so easily. He glanced down to gauge Tanaka's reaction to it.

That elderly, wise face wore no surprise at all. Tanaka only appeared proud as he dipped his chin. "And so you won't."

Mey-Rin slept until eight o'clock. Sebastian put her and Tanaka in charge of the fires while he stayed downstairs in the laundry room where Ciel wouldn't see him yet. That chore occupied most of the morning. Sebastian soaked an army of small white shirts in blue dye and scrubbed ink stains out of sleeves with salt of sorrel and ironed string ties that were as thin as pencils. He brought so much water to boil in the brick wash-copper that his hands should have had mazes of wrinkles. He'd always prided himself in the care of his young master's wardrobe throughout its entire cycle of being washed and worn and washed again. He tried to distract himself from his worrying with the love he put into the act of maintaining the clothing. The noon hour could not arrive soon enough.

Sebastian emerged from the sauna of the laundry room as soon as it did. It was lunchtime for the rest of the house. Bard, Finny, and Mey-Rin ate sandwiches with apricot preserves and leftover bacon at their table. Tanaka was drinking tea with them, and he stood when he saw Sebastian come in.

"Would you mind telling me what I can fix for the young master that he'll enjoy eating?" he asked. "Or rather, what can I fix for him that will have his approval?"

Sebastian knew what the real question was: What can I fix that you didn't have a hand in and therefore won't be rejected? "Old Man Sam brought a Vienna loaf by from one of the villagers at his last visit. You can use that for a sandwich. And then… Do you know how to cut an apple? You can toast the bread with slices of pearmain and Gloucester cheese. Just ten minutes in a brisk oven will do. Can you manage that?"

Tanaka looked a bit pensive, but he said, "I think I should be able to."

"I can help get the oven to the right temperature," Bard volunteered, standing to venture out the servant's door. "I gotta bring in some wood anyway. Finny, you can help me chop more this afternoon."

"..." Finny munched on his sandwich, watching the strange events unfold around him without saying a word. Sebastian knew the gardener must be confused, but he couldn't explain it all right this minute. Afternoon had arrived. It was time to leave the bowels of the manor's inner workings for the upper floors where servants and nobles had no choice but to cross paths sooner or later. He adjusted his lapels and left the kitchen with his coattails following behind him.

---

There was a time when Sebastian used to play at not knowing his master's exact location. Ciel had told him to do everything step by step, and even that he'd used to the boy's disadvantage. Once Ciel had been kidnapped by a mafia boss, and Sebastian had traced the mob's steps one by one across the South England countryside instead of simply following the pull of his contracted soul. By the time he'd finally found the captors, Ciel had been beaten badly. What a prize it had been back then: the shine of regret and shame in that large blue eye; the boy's realization that he could be toyed with by the same demon who rescued him. His pride had barely held up against the pain of the torture, yet he had not called for his demon. The complicated expression on the face of that twelve-year-old boy was captured forever in Sebastian's memory. Regret and shame filled his own eyes to think of it nowadays.

His connection to Ciel's soul had since become something almost umbilical: it could not be ignored unless Sebastian actively dismissed it. Most of the time he did dismiss his awareness of Ciel's whereabouts, both to award the boy some privacy and to keep himself from having to casually notice it while he went about his chores. Today, he kept that connection active like a fishing line tugging on his brain.

After lunch, he felt Ciel go to the study for his math lesson with Mr. Hancy, then to the library for his economics lessons with Mr. Whitaker. All the while, Sebastian tidied the hallways and fueled the fires in the areas where guests could not see him. The hours ticked by, and Sebastian reminded himself the chance would come sooner or later…

It was at three p.m., in the middle of rubbing French polish into the fleur de lis inlay of a mahogany console table, that Sebastian felt the line lose slack, so to speak. Suddenly, Ciel was going to climb the stairwell and walk through this hallway. There was a little cinch in Sebastian's chest, a flicker of fear, and he smoothed it down like a wrinkle in a bedsheet. Whatever happened next would come to pass no matter what. Sebastian kept at the chore so Ciel could ascertain his butler had a reason to be here when he arrived.

And yet, nothing could have truly prepared Sebastian for the moment when the young master crested the top stair and gasped lightly when he sighted his butler. Ciel paused there. Sebastian paused too. He turned over his shoulder, and they looked at each other.

Sebastian hadn't seen his boy in over a day. This was the longest they had been apart since they started their contract, and the notion was hitting him now with brilliant stupefaction. Even in that short period away, Ciel seemed changed. He looked hungry and small. His arms were clenched tightly to his sides like he was bracing himself. His visible eye was as hard as the mahogany table. He was standing his ground, expecting for Sebastian to make the first move.

Sebastian had planned to immediately stand and bow, in the way a servant was meant to when their masters arrived before they could vacate the area (a rule that had never really been enforced in this manor). Yet Sebastian could not help this one moment where the relief and sorrow of seeing Ciel washed away his composure in the mildest tide. Ciel surely noticed the fleeting emotion: his response to it was to forcibly raise his chin, but Sebastian could sense how slippery that bravado really was.

It was important that he did not forget his task. Sebastian stood and bowed forward. "Good afternoon, my lord. I beg your pardon." The words were cordial, but the tone was all benevolence and familiarity and hope.

Ciel stood there for another ten seconds. Sebastian did not look at the boy even out of his periphery, knowing Ciel would feel the barest weight from his gaze. Then the tapping of footfalls resounded again. Ciel trudged right past him without saying anything, into his office, closing the door with perhaps a bit more force than usual.

Sebastian straightened again and stared at the door. That was the only thing separating them from each other, that and distance. But it was still too soon. He had shown Ciel he was nearby. He had planted the seed. Now he had to wait for it to sprout.

It sprouted far sooner than he expected, but it grew sharp and thorny. Four hours later, when the servants were at their table for the third and final meal of the day, eating parsnip soup with venison shank and tongue, the young master came to visit.

Sebastian felt Ciel's approach like that of a lone storm cloud and steeled himself for anything. His back was to the entrance but his ears were pricked as Finny announced, "Oh, good evening, young master! Are you going to join us for dinner? Are you going to eat Sebastian's cooking again?" This was followed with a playful laugh.

Tanaka, next to Sebastian at the stove, also tensed when Ciel didn't answer immediately. Sebastian wanted to turn around, but for now he let his ears tell the story. He did not hear any answering words. What he heard instead was the door to the pantry opening and Ciel's feet clacking into it.

Bard pushed back his chair. "Eh, young master, can I get something for ya?"

Still Ciel didn't answer. Sebastian heard Tanaka make a worried hum in the back of his throat. That emotion seemed to slowly drift over the other inhabitants of the room, building enough to compel Bard to follow into the pantry without Ciel's request. Then came the first sentences Sebastian had heard Ciel speak all day: "I can do it myself. Just let me do it." There was such thin, weary obstinance in that tone. He is very lost right now…

An aching minute passed with Sebastian wondering what Ciel meant to do. Finny had also stood up and was peppering the air with questions. "Young master, are you part of this game everyone's playing? Is something going on? I don't understand. Should I be doing something different too?"

Ciel didn't answer any of them. His determination was like a fever. Bard offered again, "I can get that for you, young master," but Ciel didn't answer him either. Soon after, he exited the pantry and walked over to the worktable.

There was a noise like rain hammering a barrel as Ciel let some heavy bounty he'd acquired tumble over the table's surface. Then Ciel walked back around to approach the counter between the sink and the stove, and Sebastian wondered for a fleeting moment if Ciel was going to speak to him, but Tanaka understood more quickly what the boy was really up to.

"Young master, those knives are very sharp," he said, his voice sharpening too, and Sebastian felt his heart leap into his throat. His head jerked to see Ciel selecting one of the long blades from the wood block. Tanaka continued firmly, "If you want me to slice an apple for you, I will, but it's very important you don't handle those yourself."

"It doesn't seem that hard." Ciel found a large chef's knife he liked and walked with it over to the collection of pearmains he'd left sprawled across the table. All the servants were on their feet now, making little exclamations about safety and taking care. Sebastian clenched his jaw and stared. This test was unlike any other before. This one truly bore risk. Sebastian knew he could pause the young master's hand before a dangerous error, he could be fast enough, but what damage would that do otherwise? Would Ciel believe him when Sebastian said he was just preventing harm? Or would Ciel think he was overreacting again?

Sebastian watched every movement like a hawk, poised for the millisecond before injury became inevitable.

Ciel steadied the apple with one hand and pressed the center of the blade carefully against its crown, piercing through the skin with the tiniest crunch. He glanced up just briefly to see that he had Sebastian's attention before pushing the knife a little deeper. Surprisingly, it was Bard to interrupt.

"Young master, trust me, you really shouldn't handle dangerous things without knowing what you're doing," he said in that careful, tender voice that Sebastian had begun to hear in his own throat a few months ago. "I know, I know, it's me saying it, I always throw caution to the wind, but it's only because I know how not to get seriously inj—"

In one swift motion, Ciel removed his steadying hand and slammed the knife down so that it cut cleanly through the apple to the tabletop. There were more exclamations of, "Whoa, hey!" and "Young master!" from the others. The apple's two halves rocked perilously on their backs like overturned tortoises, exposing pale flesh and dark seeds to the sky.

Ciel held the knife steady against the wood, in the place where a whole apple once sat.

"That wasn't hard at all," he said distantly. His head snapped up to glower at the room full of bewildered faces. "Your nagging was a waste of breath. Everything was completely fine. Again." Ciel caused another ripple of distress when he used the knife's tip to point at Sebastian. "You lot are all as bad as him, aren't you? You think I'm a child who can't even cut himself an apple. I can't trust any of you."

Thunk! Ciel aimed down to stab directly into the wood and left the knife standing straight up like he had stuck a pig. His small hands were forced to maneuver around the obstacle as he gathered all the apples, whole and divided, into his arms. He began to walk away from his stunned audience but paused once in the entranceway. "This is going to be my dinner tonight, so don't come offering me anything else." His back was to the room. "Then I'm going to sleep, so leave me alone."

The kitchen was silent of voices and loud with confusion as Ciel's feet echoed down the hall and far away from them.

The daze of helplessness permeating the air was scattered when Finny gave a frustrated little snarl and threw out his arms. "Oh, I just don't understand!" Fear widened his eyes as he looked all about. "What's going on here?! Something's wrong today and nobody will tell me what's happening! Why isn't the young master eating any of Sebastian's food anymore?! Why did Bard cook last night and why is Tanaka cooking today and why is the young master only having apples and why is he so angry at us?! Why…" The shine in Finny's eyes dulled. "Sebastian, did you try to hurt him?!"

Bard sighed, "Finn, of course it ain't like that…" at the same time that Mey-Rin fretted, "Finny, why would you say such a thing!"

"I just don't understand what's going on." Finny gathered his hands close to his chest. "If Mr. Sebastian didn't try to hurt him, then why doesn't Ciel want to eat his cooking anymore? What's going on?"

It didn't take long for the remaining three pleading, miserable gazes to find their way to the quietest member of the room. Even Tanaka had been worn down by the efforts of tending to an injured boy who refused to explain. They hoped Sebastian would know the way out of this tempest. But he was just as storm-tossed as them.

All he had on his side was the truth.

He began the way he thought would be best: with an apology. "Finny… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave you in confusion." He knew he sounded as weary and unnerved as the rest of them appeared. "You aren't entirely wrong. I did hurt the young master, but not physically and not on purpose. I was trying to protect him. But I made a serious miscalculation… the person I meant to save him from didn't actually want to harm him, and I humiliated the young master with my presumptuousness. That wasn't the worst of it, though. I then demanded that he obey me as someone who knew better in life, even though I had been nothing but foolish. Of course, the young master recognized my useless posturing for what it was and refused to listen. But now he is trying to impart that I am unnecessary to him and… he is causing himself pain in the process." Sebastian laid a hand on his chest. "So in that way, you are correct, Finny. I have hurt the young master. And I am dreadfully sorry for it."

Sebastian prepared himself for their disapproval. But after a long moment, Finny only said in a fragile voice, "But why did you demand that the young master obey you?"

"Because…" The truth was all he had. "... I was afraid. I was afraid that he would be in greater danger if he didn't listen." Sebastian looked at Finny, repentant. "My actions must look terribly stupid without knowing the feelings behind them. They were still the wrong actions to take. But I hope that you can trust that I had a reason for them. I want nothing more than to make amends." Sebastian sighed up at the ceiling for the second time that day. "I can only wait for him to grant me the opportunity."

Another stretch of silence was filled by only the grandfather clock's ticking.

"You were afraid?" Finny said. "You?"

Sebastian nodded. "Yes. I was." He paused. "I still am, a little."

Then Finny flitted from his side of the servant's table and went over to throw his arms around Sebastian in the tight, full-strength embrace he knew only Sebastian was capable of tolerating. "I was scared too! When the young master was holding the knife, all I wanted to do was take it away from him! It was so scary and sad, because I wanted to tell him what to do too, but I thought he'd be even more upset, so I just stood there! I felt so useless!" Finny was sniveling and hiccuping. "It's scary, not knowing what to do… I don't know if there's a way not to behave a little bit like an idiot when you're scared and don't know what to do…"

"I was scared too," Mey-Rin said, lifting up her glasses to wipe under her eyes. "I really thought he was going to hurt himself…"

"He could have hurt himself." Bard hissed between his teeth. "You see it all the time with kids in farming communities who don't respect equipment. They get a little big for their britches and they mess around with some tool they don't know how to use and… it doesn't end well."

Tanaka offered Sebastian a hand on his arm. "You are responsible for your mistakes, but not necessarily for how the young master responds to them. It's just as I said yesterday: children cannot be angry forever. Your chance to apologize will come — and you will both be all the stronger for it."

With his arm around Finny's back, Sebastian patted rhythmically against the boy's shoulder. "You know from experience, I take it?"

Tanaka's returning expression was of peace and nostalgia. "Years of it."

Mey-Rin bounced on her heels with a sudden burst of energy. "Ohhh! I can't stand it, I can't!" She dashed to Sebastian's right side and put a hand to his other arm. "Come on, Bard, you too! Shake a leg!"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me twice." Bard walked over and used his big arms to swallow Tanaka and Mey-Rin so all five of them were entwined with Finny at the nucleus. "It'll be right. We'll see it through."

"Oh, yes! Everything will be right again, it will," Mey-Rin reassured.

Finny tightened his arms around Sebastian in an embrace powerful enough to uproot a tree. "Keep an eye on the young master for all of us tonight, okay?"

Their palms on his arms and his back were perfect circles of warmth. How much more easily they showed their love when he was honest with them… Sebastian closed his eyes. "I will. Thank you. I promise I will."

They held each other close, and they felt the missing person all the more strongly for it. No one would sleep soundly that night, but nobody wanted to. They worried freely and with love about the boy who tossed and turned in bed, as restless as they all would be to think of him.

Sebastian felt each toss and turn of the soul through that fishing-line connection he kept taut. Ciel had eaten only apples for dinner. He hadn't eaten a significant, healthy meal in thirty-six hours. He hadn't allowed anyone to maintain the fire or lamps in his room. And he wasn't permitting anyone to get near him anymore. All Sebastian could supply was his presence on the rooftop above. If it was true that a contracted soul felt soothed in close proximity to its contractor, as Sebastian had once hypothesized, he would stand here all through the night, even if the rains came to drench him.

It wasn't raining, though. It was a calm night, almost warm. It was the opposite mood from the boy in the bedroom. At ten o'clock, his usual bedtime, Ciel had been shuttered away in his room for three long hours, and he was clearly feeling the effects of captivity. He paced around. He approached his door multiple times and stood in front of it before walking back to the bed. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't quite bring himself to. He is ashamed to meet anyone after his display in the kitchen. He isn't sure where I will be, and he doesn't want to ask.

At eleven o'clock, Ciel wrapped all of his blankets around himself and laid there without sleeping. At half past, he left the mattress and wandered into the bathroom and fumbled around in the dark. Sebastian heard the faint gush of water beyond the wall as he managed to run himself a bath. Ciel simply sat in the tub; he did not know how to prepare the shampoo for washing his hair and didn't seem to want to fuss around looking for the soap or sponge. Ciel didn't stop the water either. He would fill up the tub and then drain it and fill it again, stepping out only when boiling water erupted from the faucet, getting back in as soon as it had been mixed with enough cold. Why is he doing that? It took Sebastian a second to realize that when the water cooled off too much, Ciel replaced it. It was as though the warm water couldn't stay warm enough for long, no matter what he did…

At a quarter till midnight, all the hot water was gone, and Ciel went back to his bedroom and dressed. He climbed into bed and curled all the blankets around himself. He laid there. He still did not fall asleep.

At twelve-thirty, Ciel stood up again. He fiddled with the bedside table and then went to stand in front of the fireplace for a long time. There was no fire in it, though… What could he— Abruptly, Sebastian remembered the long matches Ciel kept in the drawer for his paraffin lamp. Ciel was trying to light the hearth on his own! Sebastian imagined the damper must be open, but still, the worry was not misplaced. Ciel had no idea how to light a fire. He did not know how to stack the logs or how to use kindling. And he was so very tired… Surely he wouldn't hurt himself by mistake? Thankfully, he doesn't seem to know about the tinderbox. Each second felt like a minute, each minute an hour, as Ciel struggled in front of a cold hearth that refused to ignite.

Back to his blankets. Back to the bathtub, this time only briefly when there was no more hot water. Back to his blankets again. Back to the hearth. It was a heartbreaking monotony. Each action was spurred on by a persistent need for warmth that told Sebastian the young master needed his butler by his side more than ever.

Ciel was falling, falling, falling, with no one to catch him.

"Sebastian."

Until, suddenly, the name was spoken.

At the bleakest morning hour of three o'clock, the weight of the wait left at that single word. Ciel had called for him. Ciel had called for him. Sebastian did not even give himself a moment's hesitation in order to digest his surprise. He was there as fast as the breath that spoke his name, opening the door and striding inside the room that was not nearly cold enough to warrant this frenzied hunt for warmth.

"I'm here, young master." He couldn't help announcing himself this way, with all the worry of the hours behind it. He caught himself before he spoke again and simply bowed.

But how much he wanted to say! Especially when he looked at the little face peering out of the blankets, which Ciel sat up beneath and used as a hood. Even in the dark, Sebastian could see the shine on that skin, the sunken look in those eyes. It wasn't a typical illness. Hunger and exhaustion and emotion had created this affliction.

"Don't say anything," Ciel muttered, in a hoarse voice that clearly wished it weren't saying anything either. "I don't want to hear it. It's freezing in here. I want a fire going. I don't want to wake up Tanaka. Just do it and get out."

This was not a command so much as it was a plea.

Sebastian did not speak, as requested, but he did study the boy a moment more. Ciel was shivering with all of his winter blankets clutched around himself. It was not freezing in here.

"Hurry up," Ciel scolded.

After another observant moment, Sebastian turned to the hearth. He approached it and removed his gloves and crouched down on the dark brickwork by its maw. At once, he realized he had not needed to fear a fire starting unwittingly: Ciel really had no idea what he was doing. The coke had been placed on the bottom and larger logs on top. There was no kindling to speak of. Ciel knew what a lit fire looked like, but he had never taken up Sebastian's offer to learn how to build one. Maybe that was for the best after all…

Carefully, Sebastian dismantled the useless pyre, placing the logs aside on their rack and slipping the coal back into its hod. There was some ash in the bottom of the fireplace, but Mey-Rin and Tanaka had cleaned earlier that day, so it wasn't much — no need to fetch the dustpan. There was nothing nearby for kindling… He would have to go fetch old newspapers or wood shavings. Sebastian stood to leave, unwilling, when Ciel croaked, "Just use your magic for it. I don't want to wait anymore. I don't care."

He was that desperate… So Sebastian placed back inside the fattest logs and topped them with coke before snapping his fingers so the temperature was immediately hot enough for the coal to burn. He had never been so unhappy to start a fire with such little effort. The end was already here — time for him to go. But the boy was so broken down… How can I possibly leave him at this moment? It's too cruel. Sebastian stayed kneeling by the fireplace, pretending to assess its flame and secretly buying himself more time.

"... I couldn't even go two days without needing you for something."

Sebastian twisted over his shoulder, stepped quickly to his feet. Ciel spoke from underneath the thick hood the comforter made over his head. "Not even two days. It's pathetic." The head turned slowly to face him. "I bet you must be pretty happy with yourself."

The irony hit Sebastian like a terrible joke. "Happy with myself?" he said, and chuckled. How could something be so very heartbreaking that it made him want to laugh? He shook his head slowly as he stared back, marveling at the pained humor of it all. "Young master… you've barely eaten anything all day, you haven't slept all night, you've denounced everyone in this manor, and you are almost certainly running a temperature… I think the two of us are decidedly very miserable right now."

Ciel flicked his chin away. "Shut up… Those are reasons for me to be miserable, not you."

Sebastian sighed, so weary but somehow able to keep smiling. When it came to this one, the well of his patience could never run dry. "If you have a reason to be miserable, I shall feel it too." Ciel didn't say anything. Hoping that was a sign of acceptance, Sebastian took a step towards him. "Young master, let me help you."

"I don't need you," Ciel said, the same way he might say he didn't need a scarf on a winter's day.

"You need something to eat and drink."

"I can get that for myself."

"Certainly, you can. But wouldn't it feel better to let someone else do it?"

"You'd like that." There was a little disdain back in his tone.

"I would like to help you," Sebastian said evenly. "We would both feel much better for it."

Ciel pulled the blanket down over his face. "Well I don't want you to feel better. I want you to feel worse."

"Yes, you have managed that very masterfully throughout the day," Sebastian said, candid, patient, fond — apologetic. "And I'm sorry, because I know I did just the same to you. I took a mistake I made and multiplied its consequences tenfold. So I hope you'll allow me to take some responsibility for your fever. If it weren't for my actions, I know things would be different right now."

"Obviously!" Ciel tried to bark. It was caught in the comforter's plush folds. "It's always been your fault… All of it is your fault…"

"That's right," Sebastian hushed, "that's right. It's my fault. All mine."

The blanketed form hunched over. "I'm so sick of you… You don't make any sense… You never make any sense…" A pause. "I'm just sick of thinking about what it all means… I can't do it anymore… It's exhausting not to know…"

Sebastian would do anything to take that exhaustion away. "What is it you're thinking about? What does what all mean?"

Ciel shuffled the blankets, possibly to get warmer, but otherwise remained underneath the white layer like a statue covered in snow. "Why are you acting like this…" he whined.

"Because you aren't well, young master, and I'm worried if we d—"

"No…!" It was a harsh little word. Its wielder was only visible by his fingertips clutching the blankets. His next words went for a clean slice, like a knife through an apple. "I mean why are you acting like a parent?"

Ah. There it was. The discussion they had both been dancing around for months.

At the precipice of this important answer, Sebastian hesitated. There were… so very many ways to respond. So many ways that were true and yet felt too feeble to fill this gap between them. Because you need a parent, he could say. Ciel had needed a parent long before this year. Because there is foreign magic inside of me. That would require a lengthy explanation that would be too overwhelming right now. Because I care about you more than anything. Yet he had made so many mistakes and was still making mistakes and would continue to make mistakes, and why should the young master believe that at face value anyway? Whatever came next felt like dropping a teacup on a carpet or an egg on the floor: doomed to shatter into a hundred tiny fragments that would take so long to piece together when what Ciel needed right now was to simply be parented back to health.

Sebastian did not know the way out of this tempest.

But who possibly could?

"... You've been wondering that for a long time, haven't you?" he began. He sighed out his nose, feeling his posture deflate. "I'm sorry. I don't know if I have an answer that you want to hear. And I'm… afraid to even begin, for fear of making it worse than I already have."

Ciel's flinched. "Wh-What do you mean? Why can't you just tell me?"

"I would like to just tell you," Sebastian said, hoping to settle the boy's nerves. "But really, this is something I would prefer discussing when you're healthier and rested. The truth is, in short, that I know about as much as you do."

There was a slow moment where the blanket hood was nudged back to reveal part of Ciel's face. The large eyes blinked at him, evaluating, from underneath their makeshift roof. "So then you don't know at all?" Ciel said. "Not even a bit?"

Sebastian's shoulders lifted. His confidence held fast whenever the boy didn't give up on him. "I have a hypothesis," he began. "Not much more than that, at the moment. I haven't given up searching for answers. But please understand: my reason for wanting to find out what is happening isn't so that I can reverse this change in me."

Ciel's voice took on an edge. "Maybe it should be."

Sebastian didn't want to lose him now. He had to be honest, even when the truth was ugly. "Well… at first, I did want to do something about it. When I noticed that I was becoming gentler towards you, I was afraid of what it meant. But that faded with time. I began to notice that helping you with your emotions was interesting to me. And then even moreso, it became fulfilling. And now…" He smiled sadly. "Well, now I would really like to curb this fever and help you to sleep, so that we can talk about this more in-depth when you're feeling better."

The boy was very quiet. It was a lot to digest. Sebastian gave Ciel as much time to think as he needed. He wished that this conversation was happening under different conditions. But these conditions were all they had: the secret-keeping had to end now.

The response that eventually came from the boy was veiled in exhaustion. "Aren't you worried about this? You're going against your own nature, right? You should be terrified."

Sebastian hadn't expected such words before they were spoken. But of course: practical yet critical, while barely revealing a bit of his own fear in the process; it was his young master through and through.

"I have come up with some ideas of what's going on," Sebastian continued. "That is its own conversation, and one I'd be happy to have with you tomorrow when your condition is improved. And I am apprehensive of what my changing behavior towards you is being caused by. But the act of caring for you in general… I am no longer dedicated to reversing it."

Ciel was quiet again, still coping with it all. Finally, he said, "What do you get out of all this? What's the point? I don't need you to be a parent, you know. I don't need anybody to. I just want you to be a butler the same as before. I just want everything to be like before…"

"I don't," Sebastian said softly.

"Well who cares what you think," Ciel spat, heat entering his voice like it had a fever of its own. "You have something wrong with you. Anybody would have to, to want to be my parent."

Sebastian didn't think before he spoke. "No, no, young master…"

"Don't you dare pity me!" Hackles were raised all the way up, and eyes grew full of fire. "It's disgusting! And so are you! Can't I do anything about this?! Can't I do anything to get you to go back to who you were before?!"

Sebastian shook his head at the bristling creature baring his teeth beneath the blanket. "No. I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done."

"But that isn't fair!" Ciel was desperate and tired. "Can't I order you to…"

"You would like me to again become the demon I was before the Shrove Tuesday party?" Sebastian said, not unkindly. "You would want to go back to the time when you had to bottle up your emotions for fear of having them turned against you? To have your anger treated as a joke and your sadness like a weakness? You wish that, right now, I took your feelings and made them a reason for ridicule?" Ciel glared at him, outraged and terrified and falling. "Young master, I'm sorry to tell you this, but there is no 'before' that we can ever return to. I think you proved that half a year ago when you drank a bottle of champagne in the hopes that I would catch you in the act. Didn't you want me to catch you for a reason?"

Ciel wrenched the comforter back down over his face.

Sebastian went and crouched in front of him. "We can figure out what that reason is together. Very well? Let's help each other understand what's happening. We don't need to be so confused all by ourselves."

The little form under the blanket trembled with emotion and shivers.

"First we need to put an end to this fever. Will you let me help you, please? We have to get you well before we do anything else. That is the most important thing."

The little form kept shivering.

"You need to eat something," Sebastian told him firmly. "Something that will warm you up and sit easily in your stomach. It will only take a short while to make a simple venison broth and suet dumplings. While you wait, you can have milk and honey. I'll fetch the Kashmir shawl from the closet too. You've been feeling cold for too long… Won't you let me help you, young master?"

Silence.

"Young master, please." Sebastian was not sure he had ever before let so much helplessness into his voice.

He waited. He would wait forever for this one.

Finally, from deep inside the cocoon came, "I hate this."

"I know," said Sebastian.

"I don't want you to be like this."

"I know."

There was a long, long pause. "I don't want to be like this."

"I know. But you are, young master."

The boy's voice was a small, scared thing curled up tight. "I'm so stupid. Nothing can ever go back to the way it was before. Nothing ever does…"

"No, it doesn't," Sebastian said. "Some things in life must disappear forever, much as we try to hold them fast, and it can be very hard to say goodbye. But some things can grow stronger and more amazing because they are different than before. Because they change."

Ciel pulled up his knees beneath the comforter. "I'm so tired of all this changing…"

"Then what you need is rest." Sebastian looked into the covered face where he knew eyes blue and purple were downcast in shame. "Let me help you break your fever so that you can."

The room was as quiet as a held breath. Not even a log snapped in the hearth.

"… Fine…"

It was a small miracle, and its wonder swelled like a crescendo. Inside him, Sebastian could feel confidence reclaiming its home from fear. He finally had permission to show the breadth of his care. He couldn't fail now.

He stood tall and let his words rush over the boy as a gentle promise. "Thank you, young master. Let's get you well again."

With the skills of both butler and parent joining as one, Sebastian donned his gloves and set about that very task.

Firstly, the Kashmir shawl was added to the collection of sheets and blankets Ciel had slung around himself. Sebastian sort of hoped the young master would take the other covers away so he could make the shawl the bottom layer, but Ciel clearly still felt that his hiding place was a necessary shield, and so it was wrapped around the top. Sebastian rubbed the boy's arms and back briefly through the shawl to speed the warming-up process. Then he dismissed himself with a, "I shall return to your side very soon, all right?" and hustled to the kitchen.

Ciel was half-starved. Sebastian had seen the apples sitting at the foot of the bed, and not all of them had been reduced to cores, so Ciel had to be fairly hungry. Eating in the middle of the night was not the best thing for a human body which operated with the rhythms of the sun and moon, but this was an emergency. Sebastian had the milk steaming on the stovetop while he chopped neck meat into little pieces for the basic broth. By the time the venison had begun to release its thin gravy into the hot pan and could be left in water to simmer, the milk was ready for the honey.

Sebastian returned to the bedroom with the drink. A refreshing sight met him: Ciel had pushed the blankets back from his head and face. He was cooperating, though his brow was a knot of exhaustion and sadness. Sebastian handed over the cup, asked to check his temperature. A palm was placed on that furrowed brow. A little hot, but not as much as Sebastian had feared. Things were already starting to ease: as he suspected, it was a fever brought on by inner turmoil, not illness.

Ciel sipped at the steaming drink without a word. Sebastian quietly tidied the bedroom all the while, picking up the towels left on the bathroom floor, the clothes strewn across the carpet, the half-eaten apples resting at the foot of the bed, slowly putting the boy's life back in order one item at a time. And when he returned to the kitchen, the smell of venison had clearly worked its way into the servant's quarters, as Tanaka, Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finny were waiting for him there, sleepy, in their pajamas, and looking at him with hopeful, heartfelt expectation.

"Oh," said Sebastian, before he was suddenly being bombarded with, "Well? So?" and "Did he say he'd eat again?! He must be really, really hungry!" and "Oh, he is going to be alright, isn't he? Do say he is!"

"Yes, he'll be alright," Sebastian assured the eager faces. It was impossible not to mirror their relieved grins. "He is going to eat again. All of you can rest easy now. He will be alright. Back to bed, back to bed. Sleep in as long as you need, is it understood? I want this entire household in good health, not just the young master."

The dumplings and venison broth were brought upstairs shortly after and placed before the boy on a tray. It was filling, but not too difficult to digest, and while Ciel ate it slowly, he ate every bite. He wouldn't meet Sebastian's eye as his pillows were fluffed behind his back. His posture sagged. There was an air of defeat around him even as he kicked off blankets as his temperature continued to lower. His chin was bowed as his forehead was tested for the remaining fever. When Sebastian pushed the boy's long bangs away, he saw the sparkle of skin there. That would have to be dealt with. He went to the bathroom and dampened a washcloth, and again there was no protest when Sebastian offered to wipe the sweat from the boy's face, other than a bit of wincing when the terrycloth went near his eyes and around his mouth.

"Would you like me to dress your bed in new sheets and blankets?" Sebastian asked as a final order, taking the tray and putting it on the floor to retrieve before he left. "Or would you prefer I changed them tomorrow instead?"

Ciel was already hunkering back down and curling onto his right side. His eyelids were drooping as Sebastian adjusted the remaining blankets over his shoulder. His silence served as his answer.

"We'll talk more in the morning," Sebastian reassured the boy from above. "Just rest for now. I'll come to check on you before noon so that you don't sleep in too late." He stood back to assess his handiwork: fever broken, stomach full, cheek pressing into the worn plumpness of the favored pillow, the young master was about to drift off but still clearly feeling so fragile. Sebastian tipped his eyebrows up. "... Would you want me to stay until you fell asleep?"

"..." But Ciel was already nearly asleep. At last the late hour was hitting him, that and the comfort of having been tended to properly. His words came out in a sleepy slur. "Nn… I won't…"

"Hmm?" Sebastian prompted him just in case, but Ciel was already breathing slowly and evenly, not unlike the kittens at their mother's stomach. Sebastian smirked gently. Never mind the rest of the answer. He had done his duty getting his boy back to safety. Whatever came next between them would have to wait for morning.

For now, Sebastian allowed himself to feel the temporary peace after a long battle."Goodnight, young master, and sleep well. Tomorrow, there will be much more to say. I do not know what will happen then. Maybe you will be angry… Maybe you will be afraid, or scornful. But it matters not, in the end. It will not change the fact that I will still be here."

He was back on the roof, above the room where his master slept, until sunrise; until the moment to prove his promise arrived.

---

Sebastian felt Ciel wake up on his own after eleven the next day. At half past, the summons came. Fortunately, the food was ready in advance, the water for tea at a boil, and Sebastian — well, he was as ready as he could be. Some things there was just no accounting for, especially where this boy was concerned. He'd embrace that too.

Within minutes, Sebastian was outside the room. The door stood as yesterday's wall, today's drawbridge. What could await him on the other side?

"Excuse me, sir. I'll be coming in now."

With the first twist of the knob, there was no looking back.

The room beyond was unexpectedly bright. Ciel had apparently already opened the curtains on his own. He sat slouched forward in bed with his arms folded atop his knees and his mouth pressed against his forearm. He was looking at Sebastian studiously. His complexion was rosier, his eyes brighter. He did not look like a boy who was falling anymore — he wasn't one. He had allowed Sebastian to catch him.

Sebastian would do his best not to let him down at this crucial juncture.

"Good morning, young master," he said.

Ciel only continued to stare back in that same pensive way.

The midday sun streaming in was inviting. Other than that, the bedroom had all the appearance of a normal day — but it was far from it. Sebastian finished rolling the trolley over to the far side of the bed. He gestured a gloved hand to the silver cloche atop it. "For breakfast I have prepared you cold potted venison, accompanied by a vermicelli and marmalade pudding topped with raisins," he said, "and for tea I have made you Twinings Ceylon, an orange pekoe grade." He folded his arms behind his back. "I thought you might be very hungry when you awoke. I decided it would be best to have everything ready for your call. However…" Here his smile became less professional and more genial. "I recognize what you may truly be the most hungry for are answers."

When Ciel still didn't speak, Sebastian nodded to show his understanding and sat down at the far end of the bed. For the first time ever, it felt like a natural act.

"... I suppose an apology is a good place to start," Sebastian began just as he had for Finny the other night in the kitchen. "You are certainly owed one after the behavior I exhibited at Sedgemore House — and afterwards."

Ciel half-mumbled his first words of the day. "I'm not interested in hearing an apology from you."

Oh. Sebastian paused, lowered his eyebrows. "I see… That's al—"

"I don't care if you aren't lying to me about it. It's still not going to be a desirable apology," Ciel explained before Sebastian could complete his thought. The words were not quite angry but they weren't soft either. Sebastian blinked at him, and Ciel sighed. "Because your apology would only apply to me. I know you. You aren't apologetic towards Fairclough at all. You don't care about what you did to him. But it matters to me that you apologize for it, because how you treated him has everything to do with how you see me. And as long as you aren't sorry towards Fairclough, then your apology isn't good enough by my standards. So I'm not interested in an apology."

Sebastian huffed out his nose, surprised but impressed too. That was a very fair stipulation, and Ciel was right: he wasn't going to meet it. Time to rethink his strategy on the spot.

"I know that I've made my feelings on Fairclough very clear," Sebastian said, turning to meet that thoughtful, battle-weary gaze again. Its scrutinizing nature didn't budge an inch. "I'm curious about your feelings too. I realize that it isn't often that you seek out someone's company the way you have with Fairclough. What is it that you like about him?"

Ciel's gaze trailed to the wall as he thought. After a long moment, he shrugged loosely. "There isn't much I like about Fairclough," he said.

Sebastian practically jolted. "Really!" he said. Ciel made a face, and Sebastian gathered himself (well, outwardly at least). "But you have pursued a friendship with him, have you not?"

"No. I haven't." A slight roll of the eyes. "I don't 'pursue friendships', first of all. You know that. And I do find Fairclough more tolerable company than most. He was a ready resource for the Funtom convention, so I talked with him a lot over the summer. And afterwards, I met with him mostly to thank him for helping out. He's all right for conversation. I like how passionate he is about business. And… he's done me more than a few favors." Ciel hunched his shoulders, embarrassed. "So… sometimes I felt I owed him my thanks. But he is closer to a business partner than a companion. And after… well… everything that happened on Tuesday, I kind of hope I never see him again."

Sebastian felt an ecstatic stirring. He wishes to never see Fairclough again! But it wasn't for the right reasons. There was fault here: Sebastian's. "Young master… I ruined that for you, didn't I?"

Ciel looked away, his flushing cheek pressing into his forearm and muffling his words. "Well, you sure didn't help anything, but tripping like that was bad enough…" Then he glared sidelong over the tops of his knees. "Don't get excited about it. I know you hate Fairclough because he treats me like an adult. I may not want to see him again, but that doesn't mean I won't agree to it if he invites me. And I'm not dropping the order. You're still to keep a mile away from him at least. Understood?"

Sebastian tried not to sour. "… It is understood." But still there was the surprise. "Young master, your frien— er, acquaintanceship with Fairclough is really not something you were aiming to cultivate? I truly thought… that his presence was something you were deliberately seeking."

Another sigh. "Well, I sort of was. Because I knew how much it annoyed you."

Yet another shock! "That's why?"

"It wasn't the only reason. It was just reason enough." Ciel shrugged again. There was a gloom overcoming him that made Sebastian especially attentive. "Sometimes I just want you to be annoyed with me," the boy admitted. "It feels normal. And I like deciding how you get to be."

It was an intriguing answer, and yet, when Sebastian thought on it, it made all the sense in the world. "You like it because it feels to you how things used to be between us," he filled in.

Ciel didn't say anything. He relinquished an arm from beneath his cheek to toy with the edge of the comforter resting by his feet.

Sebastian gave a low hum, understanding, though he was not swayed. He knew what Ciel needed wasn't the old Sebastian. "I think you are already aware of this, but 'how I get to be' is in fact something you only have so much control over, sir. But there is still plenty we can decide together. Such as, what our relationship towards each other is going to become."

Ciel glared again. "If you really see yourself as some kind of parent, that's your problem, not mine," he growled. "How I get to be is something you only have so much control over, too. I don't plan to stop giving you a hard time just because of all your maudlin behavior. You want to play parent? Well I'm not going to play 'child.' Much as you might think I already am."

Sebastian gave him a dry smile. "I don't want to 'play' anything," he said. The wall of stubbornness was up again. How to talk it down… "And even if I do wish you would consider some of my advice about safety, I don't want to control you. I want to be what you need me to be, no more or less. Sometimes I'll try to anticipate your needs and make a mistake. But that's why I'm talking to you now. So that we can prevent further incidents by moving forward as a team."

Ciel fidgeted in frustration. "Are we a team or not?" he snapped. "I mean… Ugh, it's always been confusing! Ever since the beginning. You're at my beck and call, but you also like to make my life harder for the sport of it — or worse, to try and get me to give up on my revenge. How do I know this isn't another one of your stupid tricks? I mean…" Ciel snarled, ran a hand through his hair. "Do I want it to be a trick? If it is, it would mean maybe you hadn't changed after all… and… and I need to be able to make sense of you. Or else I can't trust you. But I already couldn't trust you! Don't you see why this is all so hard?!"

"Of course I do, young master," Sebastian leaned forward. Ciel was blinking quickly, ready to fall again. I won't let you out of my arms so easily. "Listen now. I still can't lie to you. I still have to follow your orders. I still… must eat your soul someday. Our contract is as unbroken as ever. We have our marks of the covenant to prove it. Let that give you some comfort. Even if I am not the same demon who came to you almost five years ago, these three facts remain unchanged. And they cannot change without your control."

Ciel's breathing began to slow down as he digested Sebastian's words. The spangled purple eye remained as physical proof that Sebastian was being honest. "You are definitely not the same demon from five years ago." The boy wasn't quite disgusted when he said it, but it was certainly not spoken with delight either. He eyed him warily. "At least, I don't think you are…"

Sebastian gave a small laugh. "I would say rather far from it."

"But why are you different is the question." Ciel lowered his eyebrows at him. "You said you have a hypothesis. So you've known for at least a while something was wrong, but you acted like everything was fine…"

Sebastian bowed his head apologetically. "I know. For a while I wanted to believe it was… or that I could somehow control the situation… but later on I kept the secret of my new nature close simply to avoid frightening you."

The leery, unnerved glance he received upon speaking those words made it immediately apparent that there was pain here. "If your aim was to avoid being frightening, then I don't know why you wouldn't just tell me what was happening. I've been wondering for months why you were suddenly being so careful with me. Do you really think I came to any positive conclusions? This is you we're talking about, after all."

Sebastian was momentarily at a loss for words. Suddenly, he could see the wounds that had healed on their own and left scars behind. Wounds he had never noticed before.

And I'm the one to inflict them.

"How confusing that must have been," Sebastian grieved. Could Ciel tell the regret in his voice was real? He hoped so. "I… I'm very sorry. I didn't think that I… No. I didn't think at all. Really, I should have…"

Should have…

…

Should have what?

Try as he might, the way to end that sentence would not appear on his tongue. How could it? Sebastian's parenting methods had always been a mix of lucky guesses, human advice, and the occasional flash of divine intuition. It was why he had kept the foreign magic as much of a secret as he could in the first place. Ciel was a sensitive person, and Sebastian too had been floundering with all the newness of love. If there was a correct way to explain what was going on, a way that would have avoided scaring Ciel, Sebastian didn't know what it was. He wasn't even sure he was doing a very good job of it now. The magic had changed him, but it hadn't given him all the pieces to the puzzle.

Perhaps it was time to ask the expert.

Sebastian turned to face his wounded charge. "… Actually… the truth is that I don't know exactly what I should have done. These feelings of kindness and care are novel to me even now; what to do with them was not always clear, especially in the beginning. I recognize that I should have done better, but all the same, I do not think it was possible for me. I'm a bit of an amateur, you might have noticed." He raised his eyebrows, lightly playful, and Ciel glanced away with a little huff out his nose.

It was time to encourage some collaboration — to let Ciel know he could contribute to the way he was cared for. "Perhaps you can help me understand what I should have done differently. What do you think would have been the right way to introduce you to the idea that I was starting to feel sympathy, young master? The way that would have made you feel more calm about it?"

Ciel paused. His expression had softened while Sebastian talked, though it had also grown uneasy. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His eyebrows lowered as he thought, knotted, then slowly began to tip upward in fear as the minutes passed.

Is it too soon to bring up things like this? Or is it important for him to be prompted with the questions he would never ask himself? Sebastian felt the urge to provide comfort, but he didn't interrupt, just in case the latter argument held water.

Finally, Ciel wrapped his arms around his knees, tucking himself up small. "Maybe you're right. Maybe there isn't a right way," he mumbled. "Because… I still sort of wish you hadn't said anything about it… Then I could try to pretend that it wasn't any different between us…" He bit his lip and his eyes went glossy; Sebastian felt the sting in his chest. "No, I… I don't know. I haven't been able to pretend you were the same for ages. But I couldn't ask you what was going on either, because I didn't want to hear you say the truth, no matter what it was. You're right. If I were in your place, I would've kept my mouth shut too. I wouldn't have done it any differently. Because… Because I'm acting like a child. I couldn't be trusted with this information without throwing a fit and working myself up to a fever. Why should you be honest with me when this is the result? I'm impossible. I would hate having this conversation with me too."

"I don't hate having this conversation with you," Sebastian soothed. "I'm so glad we are having it at last."

Ciel ducked his forehead into his raised legs. "I wish I could call you a liar. I don't understand how you can be glad we're talking about this. I'm not. I can't quit acting like a stupid child. I keep telling myself, 'Just stop it! Be the person you used to be!' But I don't stop. I just keep getting angry and disobeying myself. It's like I'm forgetting everything about who I am, and… and I have no choice but to watch myself turn into somebody I'm not…"

I see. He feels exactly as I used to feel.

Sebastian inched just the tiniest a bit closer across the bed. He wouldn't reach out to Ciel without permission, but he longed to. He reached out with his words instead.

"You know, young master… once, a very bright and very hurt boy got sick from drinking most of a bottle of champagne, and he said to me: 'I'm only acting like myself, not anybody else.'" Ciel scarcely moved, but Sebastian sensed the flicker of recognition towards those words. "The day you said that was the same day that I began to think that I was acting like somebody else. Someone who could care, who could sympathize… someone with a heart. Someone who I didn't think had anything in common with myself.

"Much has come to pass since then, for both of us. We each have a force inside ourselves that has caused us to change and grow. Those forces remain outside of our control, but they are a part of us just the same. It may not always feel like we're traveling the right path. It may feel like we're just helpless children, trying to make sense of everything new. But I want to believe that no matter what, we are only behaving as we are meant to behave. We are only acting like ourselves."

"..." Ciel loosened from his huddled pose just enough to speak. "I don't like this version of myself."

"Oh, I do." Sebastian's voice flooded with warm milk and honey. "I like him very much. He has so many powerful feelings that he can't help but express. He gets so angry and sad and upset that he needs to talk about it. He's full of fear, which means he's also full of bravery. And he's slowly learning that growing up, really growing up, means having to face the pain and grief of his early years head-on. Yes," Sebastian beamed, "I think this 'version' of you is just as good as any that came before it."

The room was quiet then, all except for Ciel's breathing, which was a little pronounced through his mouth. He might be trying to keep from crying. Sebastian's hands twitched on his knees. He wanted, again, to reach out… but he knew this boy well enough to understand that any touch from him right now would be more bewildering than comforting. We can try and change that, but not today.

Instead, Sebastian offered Ciel some privacy with his emotions. "How about eating breakfast before we speak further? I'm sure you're very hungry. I'll set the tray for you, then, and come back in a little while, unless you'd like for me to stay."

Ciel didn't budge, so Sebastian began to do as he promised. When he was nearly finished pouring the tea, the boy said with his face still hidden, "About… those forces that are making us change. For me, you just mean that I'm… going through… adolescence. I… guess. But for you, I have no idea what you're talking about. You need to explain it to me after I finish eating."

"That is what I want to discuss next." Sebastian placed the tray of tea, pudding, and potted venison by the boy's feet. "Let's take a rest first. You may have a lot of questions for me, and we both ought to feel ready for them."

For the next twenty minutes, they both took some space to themselves. Sebastian tried to actually relax in that span and not dedicate himself to preparing a speech, or to chores. But now it was his turn to feel vulnerable and uncertain. He had not told Ciel anything about the foreign magic before. How was the boy going to take the news? Especially when Sebastian still had no true explanation for how the magic had gotten inside of him. Would Ciel lose faith in Sebastian's ability to protect him? What effect would this have on his sense of safety?

Sebastian had initially been afraid that when Ciel learned about 'the sympathy beast', he would laugh and take advantage of his demon's weakness to somehow win his soul back. That outcome was no longer the most frightening thing Sebastian had ever considered. He knew the boy too well at this point: Ciel wanted the demon to take his soul. But could Ciel also see that what he wanted was to be cared for?

There was one detail Sebastian had ultimately decided would be better to avoid revealing if possible: he decided not to mention the involvement of Undertaker and the Reapers for the time being. It wasn't his intention to be deceitful. He only knew that Ciel was emotionally exhausted, and the burden of knowing that Undertaker was aware of what was happening (and had been a Reaper all this time) might be too much to process today. Simply introducing Ciel to the idea of the foreign magic seemed like enough of a stepping stone for now. On another day, a calmer day, the truth could be expanded on, perhaps when Ciel proved his own readiness through his mood and his curiosity.

In the midst of pacing about on the rooftop like a chimney sweep in distress, Sebastian felt the summons like a little bell ringing inside of him. The corners of his mouth tightened. Suddenly, the time had come to lay his cards on the table.

Sebastian rallied himself. Tanaka said that the young master is strong enough to shoulder the knowledge of my worry. I must have faith that he's right. And Tanaka had never been wrong before.

Back to the bedroom again. Ciel, fortunately, looked as if the respite had restored him somewhat. The plate and bowl were scraped clean, and he was still sipping his tea. He seemed not only more awake but also more alert. The tilt of his mouth said that some of his natural impertinence had returned. It was nice to see, familiar and, for this particular child, healthy, though it did make Sebastian feel like he ought to ask, "Is it all right if I sit down on the bed again?"

Ciel folded his arms across his chest. "You're asking? I didn't think you waited for those invitations anymore."

Sebastian put the ball back in Ciel's court. "Would you prefer that I did?"

A sigh. "Looks like you can still be overbearing when you want to be. Just sit already."

Sebastian accepted, spreading his tailcoat beneath him. "Apologies, I don't mean to be overbearing. I am admittedly not at my best."

"Well, that makes two of us, so at least we're on somewhat even ground." Ciel curled his legs around the side of his body. He blinked at him. "You're nervous."

"Ah, is it so noticeable…" Sebastian half-laughed.

"Mhm," Ciel nodded. Then he pointed a scolding finger. "You can be extremely confusing, but I know things about you too, you know. You're not really the bastion of secrecy that you think you are. I bet you're nervous because you're about to talk about some weakness that you found out about and you don't know what I'm going to think. Well I say it's about time you recognized that you aren't perfect, nor are you even close to it. You may be an expert at your butler duties, but you're abysmal at acting any degree of normal. Don't worry. It's good for you to feel your inadequacies. It helps to balance out your ego." The boy finished his evaluation by smartly draining the rest of his teacup.

What a way to restart! "The young master surely knows how to cut someone down to size…" Sebastian was both playful and earnestly bitter to admit.

"I'm right, though," Ciel said. He shrugged. "Sorry that you aren't the only one who the hard truth belongs to."

What cheek! The words jabbed, but beneath the wounded pride, Sebastian found himself charmed by the boy's self-satisfaction. It meant that the broken bridge between them was mending.

"The young master is as astute as he is opinionated," Sebastian began with less than half the punch to his words that Ciel had offered him, then softened further to add, "and his ability to lighten a heavy conversation shows his cleverness." He raised his eyebrows, and Ciel returned a half-lidded look as if to say, Don't try and butter me up. Get on with it. "You have deduced my predicament very well. Yes… I have found what you could refer to as a weakness." The teasing atmosphere evaporated then. "Though… I would rather it wasn't."

Sebastian put his hands in his lap and faced the window. This particular inadequacy was not one he wanted to own up to. "I wish I could tell you that my feelings of sympathy came naturally, young master… that I had grown to care for you over a steady progression of time the way that another human might. But… even though we have come to know each other every day for the past four years, it simply isn't normal for any demon to care for its prey beyond the act of cultivating the soul. We are not creatures capable of sympathy. And so I am both disgraced and sorry to tell you that the changes that have occurred in me are not innate. They are not born from a stage of life, like adolescence is for you. They came from an external source."

"An external source…" Ciel repeated, equal parts confused and cautious. "What are you saying…"

"There is something inside of me that I have come to refer to as 'foreign magic,'" Sebastian explained slowly, though somehow the admission felt all too fast. "That is, magic that is not of my own creation. Why it is here and what its aim is, I do not know. I only know that it is present and that it is the culprit behind the development of my sympathetic feelings."

Ciel's expression soured. "… Magic…" He propped his folded arms on his knees again and pressed his chin to them, his moping pose of choice. "Hmph. So that's what all this is about… ugh. I hate magic. It doesn't make any sense to me. It seems like it can do whatever you want until suddenly it can't. I don't understand it, and I don't want to. I hate that it has anything to do with why you're changing."

Sebastian offered a wan smile of support. This response was not exactly unanticipated. Ciel had always been disinterested in the mechanisms of Sebastian's magical abilities, preferring tangible methods of problem-solving much more than what he considered to be a false and uncomplicated means of dealing with life. "It must seem awfully confusing," he said. "I find it confusing too."

"Magic is always confusing," Ciel growled. "That's why I hate it so much. If I can't perceive it with any of my fives senses, or at least understand the reason why I can't perceive it, then I want nothing to do with it. It's such a mess. That's why I tell you to use your magic as little as possible." He paused. "How the hell do you find out where 'foreign magic' comes from then? Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Certainly, I can do some things," said Sebastian, careful. "I've been trying to find the source through a sort of trial-and-error process. Close-up examination can be used to determine if the magic is attached to someone or something. I thought for a while the source might even be Mr. Fairclough… It is a large part of why I overreacted so strongly to a potential attack from him."

"You suspected Fairclough?" Ciel sat up straight, then narrowed his eyes. "He wasn't the source…"

Sebastian shook his head. "No. He was not."

"Of course you thought it might be him. You hate him that much. I'm glad you were wrong." Ciel made a noise in the back of his throat. "Why would he have been the source though? Isn't he human?"

Sebastian breathed out his nose. "Yes, but… sometimes it isn't possible for me to tell right away. Strong immortal beings are capable of masquerading as humans."

Ciel frowned with the memory. "Like that Reaper that followed my aunt around…"

He means Grelle. "Yes. Just like that."

"Could a Reaper be doing this?"

Could a Reaper be indeed… "Perhaps, but perhaps not."

"What other kind of… thing could it be?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm trying to find out. But so far, I have not detected anything strange from anyone in our nearest vicinity. And so, the source has still not been found."

Ciel went back to moping. He thought for a moment and then raised his head again. "Aren't you scared?"

Sebastian hesitated, then decided to be transparent. "Well… a little, yes. I don't know the intentions of the wielder. And that does make me apprehensive."

"What could the intentions possibly be? I mean… making you… 'parental,' as you put it." Ciel shook his head in disgust. "I can't imagine what motive that could serve for some stranger… Haven't you thought about it at all?"

Sebastian hoped this was going well. "Yes, I have thought about this a lot, for I too noted the strangeness of the foreign magic's function. I imagine if there is a clear goal for making me sympathetic… it would be to create in me a lack of desire for your soul, so that somebody else could have access to it."

That did stun Ciel. He swallowed. "But I don't want to form a different contract or relinquish my soul to anybody else," he said. Then he became irritated, resolute. "Our contract is fine. I'm not making another one, and I'm not giving up on this one either, nor will I allow you to. I didn't sign my soul away lightly. If some other magic-wielder thinks I'm that easily swayed, then it deserves to starve to death."

Sebastian couldn't help feeling swayed himself. "How comforting it is to hear you still find our contract 'fine.' You know I wouldn't blame you if you were angry with me. Especially in light of all this new information."

Ciel shrugged. "Well, I am still angry. Somewhat… I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I expected the real reason for all this changing in you to be. It wasn't this…"

"You did say you came to some conclusions on your own," Sebastian prompted, gentle. "Do you want to tell me about them? I know you've had a lot of time to think on this all by yourself too."

"..." Ciel looked away and wrapped his arms around the backs of his legs. "No. All my ideas seem too stupid to admit now that I know the truth. I'd rather forget them."

Sebastian offered him an encouraging look. "I'm certain they aren't stupid. Clever thing that you are."

"..." Ciel only continued to look at the wall.

Sebastian wouldn't push him to share if he didn't want to. "I know it must seem a very strange thing all of a sudden, this foreign magic business. I've had much more time to sit with this truth… and to try and uncover its reason for being the truth. I may be no closer, but I can't help but be appreciative. I am not the same being because of it, and I never could have gotten here on my own."

When he noticed Ciel wincing, Sebastian added, "Ah… I'm sorry. Perhaps that was careless of me to say. It must be hard to hear that the reason for my empathy isn't organic."

Ciel shot him an eyeful of disapproval. "No. That part doesn't surprise me in the least. I already told you that there'd have to be something wrong with anyone who wanted to be my parent. And there's definitely something wrong with you."

It was one thing for Sebastian to sit there and be insulted in a way he probably deserved; it was another thing to listen to the young master insult himself. "You say that with the assumption that I am the only one who worries about you." Sebastian met the boy's surly expression with a frank one. "However, I am not alone in my wish for your care. Tanaka, Bard, Mey-Rin, Finny, even your aunt and uncle… I believe all of them would like to see you looked after."

Ciel narrowed his gaze. "Well none of them have really tried to…" he began, then stopped short when he realized that answer might have been a little too revealing for his tastes.

Sebastian lifted his eyebrows. "None of them can, sir. They have not been given the opportunity that I have been granted to make mistakes and try again. Even the marquis and marchioness know they must be delicate with you to some degree or you will never speak with them openly." He gave Ciel a tight half-smile to show he wasn't going to play into this idea that the boy was unlovable. "In short, sir, the reason for my persistence may not be solely attributed to the fact that something is 'wrong with me', but rather that I am the only person in your life that you cannot send away."

Ciel didn't want to hear that. He wrinkled his nose back. "Doesn't matter what you think. You're biased," he sniffed. "You just admitted that the only reason you care about me is because you have something wrong with you. That invalidates basically everything else that comes out of your mouth. Be nice to me all you want. It doesn't mean I deserve it. I know I'm a terrible person and everyone should hate me."

That did it.

"You say there is something wrong with me." Sebastian's voice deepened to a pitch as serious as it was concerned. Ciel noticed at once. The confidence fell from his face. "Yes. Of course there is something wrong with me; I am infected with foreign magic. But can I tell you what it's been like to have something wrong with me?" He pressed a hand to his chest as he leaned toward the shrinking boy. "It's hard work! Sadness is a heavy thing to feel. How debilitating! When I am sad, I feel such a strange lapse of energy. And fear — how consuming! Nothing else gets accomplished when I am afraid. All I can think is how badly I wish for the return of my confidence. You understand what that's like, don't you? I understand now too.

"But then, there's empathy." He fixed the boy squarely with his gaze. Ciel struggled to return it, squirming with the discomfort. "It turns out that when you care about someone with the whole of your heart, everything they feel becomes yours to feel too. Their sadness and their fear adds to the weight of your own. But despite all this… no, because of all this … the ability to care for someone only grows with the knowledge of their emotions." He straightened up, filling his eyes with all the affection he held for the child who currently pressed himself tight against his pillows with the desire to scramble away. "So yes," Sebastian finished, "there is something wrong with me. And I couldn't be more grateful that there is."

The room was utterly quiet. Ciel had his chin ducked deep into his chest as he glared from the tops of his eyes. His elbows were locked tight to straighten his arms and his heels dug into the mattress to push himself against the pillows, the best he could distance himself from this display of parenting without running off.

"You deserve to be cared for by a person who knows more than myself about what caring for you means," Sebastian said next, more evenly now. "But I'm the one you haven't pushed away, and I plan to take this responsibility seriously, if you'll allow me. And I wish you would allow me. I can tell by your posture that this idea makes you very uncomfortable. So consider it this way: you are already living in discomfort. Is moving forward together really going to be any worse?"

Ciel swallowed, fidgeted. "M-Maybe it will be. What does 'moving forward together' actually mean this time?"

"A very good question." Sebastian brought one crooked knee atop the bed in order to better face the boy. "I propose that we continue just as we were before. I will consider the best ways to help you with your emotions and your well-being, and you are free to accept or reject my suggestions however you please. But now you will know why I am behaving this way and you no longer have to fear deception. And, you can allow me to handle the search for the origin of the foreign magic, but please ask questions any time. Just know that I cannot unlearn what the magic has made possible."

"So… basically you're telling me to just sit by and trust that you know what you're doing," Ciel said flatly.

"No, that's not what I'm telling you. But you could do that, if you liked," said Sebastian. "Or… you could do the opposite. You could decide to do everything differently and work with me to correct my mistakes until I can offer you just the type of support you need. Or anything in between. The choice is yours."

Ciel still didn't relax. "But either way, I have to put up with you and your empathy."

"Well, I am certainly not going to subscribe to the idea that you are a terrible person and everyone should hate you." Sebastian raised his brows mildly. "But yes. For better or worse, you do have to 'put up' with me."

Ciel's jaw tightened. Eyes blue and purple bored into Sebastian with calculating barbs. Testing some new hypothesis, always testing, that growing brain never settling for even a moment. Sebastian waited, looking back without comment. Finally, a conclusion must have been reached, for Ciel locked his gaze behind closed lids. "I guess it's only fair… You have to put up with me too."

Sebastian gave a slight chuckle with the lifting of the tension. What a relief it was to feel some give in the line. "From here on, I would like to do less 'putting up' with each other and more working as a team. Earnestly. What do you think?"

Ciel stretched his arms and legs out long before him before curling them back in to adopt his moping pose, though there was something looser about it now. "You really are completely different," he said. He shook his head. "Fine. We can go on as we were but with some changes. You won't hide any of your intentions from me anymore, and I'll… try not to make you miserable on purpose." Color began to creep into his cheeks. "I can't promise anything else yet," he grumbled. "I still don't like this. The foreign magic, you saying you're like a parent, accosting Fairclough out of the blue… no, I don't like it at all. So don't expect me to like it." He pouted, looking away. "I'll just… try not to be so ornery when you're only trying to help me. Since I… I obviously can't… do everything on my own. Or really… anywhere near as much as I'd like."

Sebastian half-smiled at the flushing boy. "There is nothing unusual about needing to rely on others for help. In fact, I happen to know some people in this manor who wouldn't say they're any different. And I think they are some very fine people indeed."

Ciel blanched. "The servants! Oh no, that's right…" He smacked a hand across his forehead. "Ugh, all I want to do is get out of this stupid room at last, but… what am I supposed to say to them after last night? I was so embarrassing…"

Fortunately, and for once, Sebastian knew just how to answer. "Well, young master… why don't you start with an apology?"

---

Pride lifted his chest high as Sebastian stood behind Ciel, while the rest of the staff gathered before them in the kitchen to hear what the young master had to say. The boy's ego had taken quite a blow. He was shy as he began, words directed at the floor, "E-Everyone, listen. I'm sorry for scaring you yesterday. I wasn't feeling well…" As the explanation unraveled, the worried fog lifted from the air, and the servants began to smile again one by one. First Tanaka, then Mey-Rin, then Finny, and ultimately Bard, until the whole room seemed to glow with love for the boy who stumbled his way through a rehearsed explanation about fevers and anger that he thought nobody wanted to hear. Any minute now, Ciel would see how much it was the opposite. In the servants' misty eyes and unshakable grins, Sebastian saw the flood of forgiveness they could scarcely dam back. But they wouldn't erupt with it. Not until the boy was done speaking. They would wait forever, for this one.

Waiting forever.

Sebastian felt the strong little soul trembling bravely inside the boy he loved as his own; the soul he'd once naively thought would be his for the taking in perhaps a matter of days, then weeks, then months.

That doesn't sound so bad, does it?