Kuroshitsuji Fan Fiction ❯ Surface ❯ Inevitable ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: tweekthetwitch13 
Anime/Manga: Kuroshitsuji Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Mystery / Drama | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 06.08.2009 | Updated On: 06.08.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.4K | Visits: 616 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Kuroshitsuji Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Mystery / Drama | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 06.08.2009 | Updated On: 06.08.2009 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.4K | Visits: 616 | Status: Work In Progress
Surface,
Chapter two.
This is a repost from another website. My Word decided to kick the bucket so ..yeah. Anyway.
An extra thanks to Ifern for pointing out to me that Ciel died when he was 13, not 12. Hopefully I’ll remember this time around. Thanks again. I will change Ciel’s death to the age of 13, however for modern Ciel, his dreams will still have started when he turned 12. Hope that makes some sense.
Warnings and Disclaimers are the same chapter to chapter.
--------------------The Inevitable Meetings.
It hurt to breathe.
It burned at his lungs similar to how the smoke filled opium rooms once had. However instead of sickly smoke spiraling around his being it was a freezing, bitingly cold embrace of the Thames.
The water hurt his eyes, yet he kept them open anyway.
Miss-matched eyes struggled to see the rays from the sunrise making their way into the still, calm depths.
It was all over now.
He thought he saw a butterfly above the waves.
--
It was difficult to keep going, Ciel thought. While it was true he was undeniably stubborn, the same could also be said for his, as some would say, ‘laziness’. There was a different battle in his mind being waged than the one that usually was present. There was nothing that was going to stop him from continuing on his search, except himself.
Flipping through what had to be the 80th book in the 16th musky little London antique shop; Ciel pondered how much a P.I. [Private Investigator] would cost him. Sighing, Ciel put back the red binded book he had been holding onto the old dusty shelves that had held it.
He was getting quite tired of all of this; the ‘quaint’ little antique shops, the smell of history long past that honestly made him sneeze, the disapproving looks from older British gentlemen that didn’t believe a young boy had any place in such a store. Not to mention being followed about by the even older and snobbier owners of the shops. Like he would honestly steal any of the pieces of junk these grubby people tried to pass off as ‘priceless antiques.’
As he left the most current store with a jingle from the bells on the door handles, he gave an equally disapproving look to the one he was receiving towards the older gentleman in a tweed jacket that ran the shop. Talk about cliché’.
Ciel decided to call it a day; he was far too tired to continue in his current state. Luckily the Suite he was staying in wasn’t too far away, and while he didn’t want to walk it’d still be shorter than getting a cab in London. Even if his shoes surely weren’t the best for walking, and he’d really rather do nothing than relax in a luxurious bath.
Making his way down the sidewalk Ciel just happened to glance down a small side street, something there caught his eye. There was a tiny little tucked away shop down at the end of the cobblestone side road, barely noticeable unless you happened to be looking for it. A hand painted wooden sign that read-
‘ Helena’s Psychic Shop, Reveal the future, Relive your past lives! We have the tools to help you!’
Ciel was moments from laughing at the silly woman’s shop, but his eyes rested on the ‘Relive your past lives!’ section of the sign.
Well it couldn’t hurt to check one more shop.
--
Pushing open the heavy wooden to the shop inside, Ciel found the smell to be far more overwhelming than any of the Antique stores he had visited the last two days. The first thing that greeted him was the powerful smell of incents; burners and candles had been placed all around the room, since there was no real lights to speak of. There was a humid heat in the room that had obviously not come from the London outdoors. A dank, almost moldy smell was only partially covered up by incents lit in the smallish sized room. Ciel was mildly horrified and intrigued to note moth balls in various areas and for some reason a bottle of baby powder.
There was next to no light coming through the few and far between windows due to heavy curtains, he hoped the fuzzy texture on them was only due to them being velvet. In the window sill there were many pictures and objects, they all varied in apparent age. Tables and stools were scattered in the room, in a way that no intelligent being could label as ‘arranged’. Various objects of different sizes were scattered on top of these surfaces as well, Ciel decided not to touch them however; they looked as if, if you touched one your hand would come back diseased.
A small cough came from the corner causing Ciel to jump and highly regret the squeak of surprise that found its way from his lips. He hadn’t been aware there had been anything living in the room, and he could only imagine what it could look like. This ‘Helena’ person was probably some sort of ghoul from the netherworld, or possibly a new age hippy type.
Or possibly a woman in her late 50’s, with large amber eyes and flowing hair of the same color.
--
“Hello little one, welcome to my shop of the mystical and beyond. I am Helena May Aberlin, how may I help you?”
She wasn’t an unattractive woman, she had probably been quite the beauty in her youth and very much not the witch type Ciel had been expecting. Her shoulder length hair rested on her ankle length dark scarlet dress, everything about her looked clean and very much of a classic feel, unlike the rest of her shop.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say, ‘I was expecting you’.”
“Oh my, don’t be silly. How would I possibly know if… Never mind that now. Can I help you today?”
“I suppose so, I am curious about your services; you said you could read past lives, yes?”
“Aah, yes. That is correct.”
“So…how much do you charge? Not that money is an issue for me, I am simply curious.”
“Oh I don’t charge any money for my services, but compensation will be required. But don’t concern yourself about that right now, what exactly do you want to know about past lives or your past life in particular?”
That was something Ciel wasn’t really expecting. He was fully certain the woman end up being like every other extortionist ‘psychic’ out there. He wondered what this, ‘compensation’ would be however. Ciel didn’t quite feel like losing any internal organs today.
“I’ve been…having dreams for quite some time now.”
Ciel crossed his hands, unconsciously not meeting the woman’s face or eyes. He had spent so much time hiding his secret; certain he was crazy, just to be telling a strange shop owner his most troubling thoughts? It was odd, he felt embarrassed and slightly relieved all at the same time.
Helena Aberlin’s expression became slightly more serious, a business like air came about her.
“And these dreams are troubling, are they? Can you tell me more about them, and about when you started having them? Oh my, pardon my manners. Would you like to come back into the kitchen ? I just put on the kettle.”
Without receiving an answer Helena turned and made her way into what Ciel imagined to be a back room. Glancing around once at the dank and dark room he was currently in, remembering how badly his feet hurt and how tired he was Ciel decided sitting down with a warm cup of tea sounded lovely.
Maybe she even had some sweets.
--
Helena Aberlin’s kitchen was refreshingly clean, so clean it would lead one to believe the front room was just a clever rouse. It was a bright room, the walls a very light yellow that made the room seem very chipper. In Ciel’s current state it was mildly annoying, but he wasn’t going to comment on it. He was seated, cupping a steaming glass of black tea, at a round wooden kitchen table that had a decorative lace cover.
More importantly the woman had a number of sweet tea biscuits handy.
Scooting out a chair and rearranging the seat cushion, Helena sat opposite Ciel. While Ciel was far more occupied munching on biscuits and silently judging the house she lived in, Helena quietly sipped her own tea while calmly staring at the young boy in her kitchen. Something seemed familiar about him, she thought, too familiar.
“Once you’ve finished, please continue your story. The best way to help someone relive their past lives is for that person to name specific details. If you can, name any places or certain events that might seem important?”
Ciel paused, he was already fairly certain he knew when and who he was, or had been, but should he tell this woman all of that? Well he didn’t really have any other options left to him; he was running out of time. If she was any help at all, he’d still only have access to her brain for a few more days. And if for any reason she couldn’t help, or called him crazy, then he was leaving Britain anyway so it didn’t matter.
“The...most recurring aspects of my dreams are a large fire. And drowning. In the Thames…”
“Oh? My, that is quite specific. There were a few fires in London though dear.”
For a moment, Ciel looked away, he shakily put down his cup and twisted his hands in his lap.
“I also…Happened to hear the name I was being addressed by as well..”
“…And? You aren’t going to make me get you more sweets before you continue are you?”
Helena eyed the remnants of her long gone biscuits, before turning her eyes back towards the dark blue haired youth across from her. Ciel seemed to find a string on his jacket insanely interesting, pulling and plucking at it and avoiding all eye contact, like a child who had just been found doing something they ought not.
Ciel shot the woman a sharp look, he felt bad enough as it was and now some ‘psychic’ was teasing him? He should just walk out and leave her to guess, though then he wouldn’t get anywhere. Here goes nothing, thought Ciel.
“I didn’t really see anything clear, however…the name I heard was, ‘Ciel Phantomhive’. I’ve attempted to look this person up however- HEY what are you doing?!”
Helena had gone wide eyed, leaping up from her seat and letting her chair fall to the cold floor with a crash. She dashed from the room, muttering inaudibly to herself. Ciel stared blankly down the path from the kitchen the older woman had ran down, he could hear her moving and pushing things around in what seemed like a frantic manner.
This…certainly was not the reaction Ciel had been expecting.
Before his brain really had time to process everything, weighted down by the previous hours of searching, Helena returned holding only what appeared to be a simple picture frame.
“I knew it! Oh, I just knew it! I knew you looked familiar, and boy do you. How did I not think of it before? My, my, my how odd.”
“Woman, please, if you are done acting much the part you look could you please tell me what is going on?”
Ciel’s eyes narrowed and darkened; the way someone’s would for persons who had seen far too much in their life span. There was a knot forming in his stomach, his hands clenched in unexplainable anger. It was coming again, the feeling of the other him. What frightened Ciel the most was this unexplainable hate, swirling within his body and mind.
Before he had a chance to go on further, the photo was shoved in his face.
“Hush, now. I, Helena May Aberlin, happen to be the only human being left on the planet with a picture of Ciel Phantomhive. My great grandmother kept it when her husband died; apparently the Phantomhive helped her and the family financially. This was so much so that even after the death of Ciel Phantomhive, which was soon after the death of her husband’s death, our family was well sustained.”
Ciel gazed at the old photograph; it was old but had obviously been taken very good care of.
The face that looked back at him was his own. Ciel felt his body go cold, a sickly daunting feeling creeped along his bones and slid into his stomach like a curled venomous snake. The only exceptions on the two were the fact that this Ciel Phantomhive had an eye-patch over one eye, and of course the difference in clothing.
Ciel felt scared for some reason. And the reason was not the fact he saw himself sitting there in a picture dated over a hundred years ago. No, there was another reason.
There was another man standing behind where this Ciel Phantomhive was seated. A butler dressed completely in black.
An inhuman looking man, with a smile that had haunted Ciel’s dreams.
Ciel was only vaguely aware of the tears running out of only one of his eyes, or of Helena calling his name before he collapsed.
--
There was a Bar in New York City that Sebastian often visited. It was truly a pit, a sty in the ‘Big Apple’. Smoke curled around the room like a python bent of choking the air out of every living creature, reminding Sebastian vaguely of Lau. The smell however was far worse than the underground opium dens in turn of the century London. Business men that wanted to drown their sorrows along with the other street scum, the worst of the worst humans all congregated in this bar. It was a wonderful feeding ground for Demons.
Sebastian did his best to ignore the redhead next to him who was gulping down one effeminate drink after the other. Grell was quite the pain, like some horrible parasite. He was chasing away business, no one would come up to Sebastian now and spill their entire lives story only wishing for ‘some way out of it all’, when there was a loud gay man-thing sitting next to him.
Sighing, Sebastian raised his cold red eyes to the rest of the room. One man in the other corner of the room was staring blankly down into the drink, one possible meal. Another chubby balding man with a south Bronx accent was screaming obscenities at the television, ‘Oh come on! Goddamnit I’m out another five thousand!’, A man wanting money is willing to do just about anything; another possible meal.
Sebastian let his eyes rest on a fairly young looking girl sitting next to a man who was grinning an oily smile at another owlish type looking fellow. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. There was an exchange of money, the girl kept her face down, tightening her coat around her frail body as if protecting it from a far worse evil than anything supernatural. Sebastian decided she was the best choice for a contract.
He liked her. She reminded him a bit of Ciel, she looked so small and delicate and yet there was a frantic anger behind her eyes. She was willing to do anything to get away, and from how she was radiating a silent hate it wouldn’t take much for her to want to see blood running from the men that had harmed her.
“She’s pretty right? Such a shame!”
Grell chuckled in such a way it made it perfectly apparent he didn’t think it was a shame at all. Sebastian raised one perfect eyebrow slightly.
“I highly doubt you find her attractive, let alone find the prostitution happening abominable.”
Grell let out a flowy laugh, sending a flirty tooth filled smile towards Sebastian. Quite revolting really.
“I didn’t mean that, silly. And no, she’s not my type, though she’ll look much more attractive later tonight…all covered in blood.”
The smile got bigger, like the mad Cheshire cat.
Well it explained some things. Obviously a Death God would know something like that…Sebastian cast one last look at the girl as she left the building with the owlish man, the man now had a new wicked gleam to his eyes. It wouldn’t be long before the people of New York would be seeing her cold face on the nightly News, bloodied and mangled, much as it wouldn’t be long before Grell would be standing over her doing his job.
--
“Oi, you got a call.”
Sebastian and Grell both stared blankly at the man behind the bar.
“You..you don’t mean Sebby do you?”
“Hey man..man right? I don’t know, I just got some call from a English dude saying he needed to speak to someone named Sebastian. He said what you looked like, n’ was goin’ ta’ leave a message, but I told him you were here so I’d tell you right away, ya know’? N’ then he told me to tell you to call him back once I told ya’, Kay’?”
“That makes no sens-“
“Where is your phone?”
Sebastian cut in rather quickly, there was only one English man he knew of that would leave him a message.
--
This man’s name was Alastair Fennelwick, he was a bit stuffy and uptight but he had his uses. The last time Sebastian had been back to the UK in 1941, he had met a very much younger Alastair. He had just inherited his Grandfathers Antique store.
It had quite the assortment, some of the items were of great interest to Sebastian; books that contained records on the Phantomhive’s, old newspapers with a few pictures of the Phantomhive family members (Some dating before Ciel’s father), toys that had the Phantomhive crest. Sebastian took every last one, like he had done in every other book and antique store before he had left the Isles.
Not for sentimental reasons.
He destroyed every last one, burning them all to ash.
For some reason, Sebastian had felt almost protective over it all. He wanted absolutely no one sticking their noses into business that didn’t concern them, and things Sebastian knew Ciel wouldn’t have wanted getting out. No, Ciel would have rather had everything to disappear, so Sebastian the ever faithful butler wiped away all traces he could.
He didn’t need to, of course. The contract had been fulfilled when Ciel had died, and yet Sebastian still returned right after the boy’s death. He gave word to the surviving three; Finny, Maylene and Bard. He Informed Elizabeth of the death of her fiancé. He buried Pluto’s bones along with a tearful Finny who was still, regardless of it being the right thing to do, quite guilt ridden over the death of the demon beast.
For awhile things had been safe, the three had been there to protect the memory of the Phantomhives without letting information leak out. The head of Scotland Yard and the Queen made no moves to investigate or bring anything to light; Sebastian was sure they were more than happy to let the Phantomhive family memory die.
However, by the end of the Blitz in 1941, all those who had once known Ciel Phantomhive were dead; The Queen, Maylene, Finny and Bard along with those in Scotland Yard that had known. This would seem like it would be even safer, but no. This meant a new wave of eager historians, desperate to reclaim the past after so many things and places they had held dear in the present had been destroyed in the attacks.
Sebastian, even after destroying everything that the Fennelwick family had regarding the Phantomhives, being the ever clever demon he was instructed young Alastair to alert him in some method if anyone was to come around looking deeply into the Phantomhive name. (By ‘instructed’ he means scared the youth witless). He had give Alastair a number of addresses and phone numbers worldwide, since Sebastian very rarely stuck around in one area for very long. One of the numbers he had left was to this very bar in the middle of New York city.
--
“Alastair Fennelwick, it has been quite some time. Is the reason you have contacted me for the reason I specified?”
Sebastian was in a back room, further away from the pool tables, smell and noise. No one was back here, which is what made it the perfect spot to discuss business. Sebastian was quite sure he wasn’t the only being who had discovered this, judging by the amount of bad trade in the bar.
“Ah yes, er Sebastian Michaels sir, you see I did in fact remember quite well what you had asked, but I never expected anyone to come into the shop for that you see. Not once in all my years of running this shop had I gotten one person investigating the...the thing you said never to name.”
Well it was good to see Alastair hadn’t changed much in the last few decades. He had always been the type to ramble when he got nervous. Sebastian could just see him now, running hands through his thinning hair and straightening out his very out of style tweed jacket.
“Alastair, please do not waste my time.”
He spoke with a cold tone to his voice, one that could curl the very air around him, with a very familiar smirk present on his inhuman hips.
“OH , Oh I am sorry, really ever so sorry!..Well since..I’ve told you..may..may I now leave, sir, please?”
“No, Alastair. I want details, I want to know what type of person was looking into that subject. I would be very happy with you if you had happened to catch their name.”
“Ah, well you know I thought it was quite strange you know? It was a young boy, at first I was certain he was going to try and lift something since that is what boys at that age tend to do when they come in my shop. Honestly, in my youth we actually helped our elders and had an interest in-“
“Alastair.”
“OH, er I mean, yes it was a boy. Around 13, maybe 15 at the oldest, yet he acted far older. He came in saying he had checked various other shops looking for a certain item, and I told him that I was sure we would have what he was looking for because I do have the best shop in London, if I do say so myself-“
“Alas-“
“AH, Er yes young boy, obviously English, though it didn’t sound exactly like he was from London, possibly a northern accent. When I told him I hadn’t heard of the ‘subject’ he was looking for he looked quite upset, and not sad upset, more like he was about to strike me. The attitude on the boy, you should have seen the look he gave me when he was leaving the shop..er! Details, well let’s see he was between 150cm to possibly 165cm, skinny, blue eyes I remember, very blue. Not sky blue, sea blue. Hmm and his hair..I thought it was black at first. Thought maybe he was Irish or Welsh with those colorings, but it almost had a blue glow to it in the lights. Though I’m sure it was just dyed, since apparently kids these days enjoy making their hair look like a fishing lure..”
“I’m hanging up now Alastair. Thank you for the information, I will decide if I wish to come in person later. “
“I-i-in perso-“
Click.
Sebastian leaned against the wall that the phone was connected to, crossing one leg over the other and bring his hand to his chin.
A young boy between 13-15, with blue eyes and dark blue hair. How very peculiar, how very strange indeed.
Sebastian decided it was about time he revisit England.
He might even visit Ciel’s tombstone.
------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------Till next time.
Authors notes: ..Erm. I..I don’t know what to say. Okay first off..I’m not British, so I’ve probably gotten about a billion things wrong. Second..I apologize for bad grammar and being just generally unimaginative XD I really needa go to bed
Will Ciel and Sebastian meet next chapter? ……They’ll meet quicker if you give me more wonderful reviews!
Chapter two.
This is a repost from another website. My Word decided to kick the bucket so ..yeah. Anyway.
An extra thanks to Ifern for pointing out to me that Ciel died when he was 13, not 12. Hopefully I’ll remember this time around. Thanks again. I will change Ciel’s death to the age of 13, however for modern Ciel, his dreams will still have started when he turned 12. Hope that makes some sense.
Warnings and Disclaimers are the same chapter to chapter.
--------------------The Inevitable Meetings.
It hurt to breathe.
It burned at his lungs similar to how the smoke filled opium rooms once had. However instead of sickly smoke spiraling around his being it was a freezing, bitingly cold embrace of the Thames.
The water hurt his eyes, yet he kept them open anyway.
Miss-matched eyes struggled to see the rays from the sunrise making their way into the still, calm depths.
It was all over now.
He thought he saw a butterfly above the waves.
--
It was difficult to keep going, Ciel thought. While it was true he was undeniably stubborn, the same could also be said for his, as some would say, ‘laziness’. There was a different battle in his mind being waged than the one that usually was present. There was nothing that was going to stop him from continuing on his search, except himself.
Flipping through what had to be the 80th book in the 16th musky little London antique shop; Ciel pondered how much a P.I. [Private Investigator] would cost him. Sighing, Ciel put back the red binded book he had been holding onto the old dusty shelves that had held it.
He was getting quite tired of all of this; the ‘quaint’ little antique shops, the smell of history long past that honestly made him sneeze, the disapproving looks from older British gentlemen that didn’t believe a young boy had any place in such a store. Not to mention being followed about by the even older and snobbier owners of the shops. Like he would honestly steal any of the pieces of junk these grubby people tried to pass off as ‘priceless antiques.’
As he left the most current store with a jingle from the bells on the door handles, he gave an equally disapproving look to the one he was receiving towards the older gentleman in a tweed jacket that ran the shop. Talk about cliché’.
Ciel decided to call it a day; he was far too tired to continue in his current state. Luckily the Suite he was staying in wasn’t too far away, and while he didn’t want to walk it’d still be shorter than getting a cab in London. Even if his shoes surely weren’t the best for walking, and he’d really rather do nothing than relax in a luxurious bath.
Making his way down the sidewalk Ciel just happened to glance down a small side street, something there caught his eye. There was a tiny little tucked away shop down at the end of the cobblestone side road, barely noticeable unless you happened to be looking for it. A hand painted wooden sign that read-
‘ Helena’s Psychic Shop, Reveal the future, Relive your past lives! We have the tools to help you!’
Ciel was moments from laughing at the silly woman’s shop, but his eyes rested on the ‘Relive your past lives!’ section of the sign.
Well it couldn’t hurt to check one more shop.
--
Pushing open the heavy wooden to the shop inside, Ciel found the smell to be far more overwhelming than any of the Antique stores he had visited the last two days. The first thing that greeted him was the powerful smell of incents; burners and candles had been placed all around the room, since there was no real lights to speak of. There was a humid heat in the room that had obviously not come from the London outdoors. A dank, almost moldy smell was only partially covered up by incents lit in the smallish sized room. Ciel was mildly horrified and intrigued to note moth balls in various areas and for some reason a bottle of baby powder.
There was next to no light coming through the few and far between windows due to heavy curtains, he hoped the fuzzy texture on them was only due to them being velvet. In the window sill there were many pictures and objects, they all varied in apparent age. Tables and stools were scattered in the room, in a way that no intelligent being could label as ‘arranged’. Various objects of different sizes were scattered on top of these surfaces as well, Ciel decided not to touch them however; they looked as if, if you touched one your hand would come back diseased.
A small cough came from the corner causing Ciel to jump and highly regret the squeak of surprise that found its way from his lips. He hadn’t been aware there had been anything living in the room, and he could only imagine what it could look like. This ‘Helena’ person was probably some sort of ghoul from the netherworld, or possibly a new age hippy type.
Or possibly a woman in her late 50’s, with large amber eyes and flowing hair of the same color.
--
“Hello little one, welcome to my shop of the mystical and beyond. I am Helena May Aberlin, how may I help you?”
She wasn’t an unattractive woman, she had probably been quite the beauty in her youth and very much not the witch type Ciel had been expecting. Her shoulder length hair rested on her ankle length dark scarlet dress, everything about her looked clean and very much of a classic feel, unlike the rest of her shop.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say, ‘I was expecting you’.”
“Oh my, don’t be silly. How would I possibly know if… Never mind that now. Can I help you today?”
“I suppose so, I am curious about your services; you said you could read past lives, yes?”
“Aah, yes. That is correct.”
“So…how much do you charge? Not that money is an issue for me, I am simply curious.”
“Oh I don’t charge any money for my services, but compensation will be required. But don’t concern yourself about that right now, what exactly do you want to know about past lives or your past life in particular?”
That was something Ciel wasn’t really expecting. He was fully certain the woman end up being like every other extortionist ‘psychic’ out there. He wondered what this, ‘compensation’ would be however. Ciel didn’t quite feel like losing any internal organs today.
“I’ve been…having dreams for quite some time now.”
Ciel crossed his hands, unconsciously not meeting the woman’s face or eyes. He had spent so much time hiding his secret; certain he was crazy, just to be telling a strange shop owner his most troubling thoughts? It was odd, he felt embarrassed and slightly relieved all at the same time.
Helena Aberlin’s expression became slightly more serious, a business like air came about her.
“And these dreams are troubling, are they? Can you tell me more about them, and about when you started having them? Oh my, pardon my manners. Would you like to come back into the kitchen ? I just put on the kettle.”
Without receiving an answer Helena turned and made her way into what Ciel imagined to be a back room. Glancing around once at the dank and dark room he was currently in, remembering how badly his feet hurt and how tired he was Ciel decided sitting down with a warm cup of tea sounded lovely.
Maybe she even had some sweets.
--
Helena Aberlin’s kitchen was refreshingly clean, so clean it would lead one to believe the front room was just a clever rouse. It was a bright room, the walls a very light yellow that made the room seem very chipper. In Ciel’s current state it was mildly annoying, but he wasn’t going to comment on it. He was seated, cupping a steaming glass of black tea, at a round wooden kitchen table that had a decorative lace cover.
More importantly the woman had a number of sweet tea biscuits handy.
Scooting out a chair and rearranging the seat cushion, Helena sat opposite Ciel. While Ciel was far more occupied munching on biscuits and silently judging the house she lived in, Helena quietly sipped her own tea while calmly staring at the young boy in her kitchen. Something seemed familiar about him, she thought, too familiar.
“Once you’ve finished, please continue your story. The best way to help someone relive their past lives is for that person to name specific details. If you can, name any places or certain events that might seem important?”
Ciel paused, he was already fairly certain he knew when and who he was, or had been, but should he tell this woman all of that? Well he didn’t really have any other options left to him; he was running out of time. If she was any help at all, he’d still only have access to her brain for a few more days. And if for any reason she couldn’t help, or called him crazy, then he was leaving Britain anyway so it didn’t matter.
“The...most recurring aspects of my dreams are a large fire. And drowning. In the Thames…”
“Oh? My, that is quite specific. There were a few fires in London though dear.”
For a moment, Ciel looked away, he shakily put down his cup and twisted his hands in his lap.
“I also…Happened to hear the name I was being addressed by as well..”
“…And? You aren’t going to make me get you more sweets before you continue are you?”
Helena eyed the remnants of her long gone biscuits, before turning her eyes back towards the dark blue haired youth across from her. Ciel seemed to find a string on his jacket insanely interesting, pulling and plucking at it and avoiding all eye contact, like a child who had just been found doing something they ought not.
Ciel shot the woman a sharp look, he felt bad enough as it was and now some ‘psychic’ was teasing him? He should just walk out and leave her to guess, though then he wouldn’t get anywhere. Here goes nothing, thought Ciel.
“I didn’t really see anything clear, however…the name I heard was, ‘Ciel Phantomhive’. I’ve attempted to look this person up however- HEY what are you doing?!”
Helena had gone wide eyed, leaping up from her seat and letting her chair fall to the cold floor with a crash. She dashed from the room, muttering inaudibly to herself. Ciel stared blankly down the path from the kitchen the older woman had ran down, he could hear her moving and pushing things around in what seemed like a frantic manner.
This…certainly was not the reaction Ciel had been expecting.
Before his brain really had time to process everything, weighted down by the previous hours of searching, Helena returned holding only what appeared to be a simple picture frame.
“I knew it! Oh, I just knew it! I knew you looked familiar, and boy do you. How did I not think of it before? My, my, my how odd.”
“Woman, please, if you are done acting much the part you look could you please tell me what is going on?”
Ciel’s eyes narrowed and darkened; the way someone’s would for persons who had seen far too much in their life span. There was a knot forming in his stomach, his hands clenched in unexplainable anger. It was coming again, the feeling of the other him. What frightened Ciel the most was this unexplainable hate, swirling within his body and mind.
Before he had a chance to go on further, the photo was shoved in his face.
“Hush, now. I, Helena May Aberlin, happen to be the only human being left on the planet with a picture of Ciel Phantomhive. My great grandmother kept it when her husband died; apparently the Phantomhive helped her and the family financially. This was so much so that even after the death of Ciel Phantomhive, which was soon after the death of her husband’s death, our family was well sustained.”
Ciel gazed at the old photograph; it was old but had obviously been taken very good care of.
The face that looked back at him was his own. Ciel felt his body go cold, a sickly daunting feeling creeped along his bones and slid into his stomach like a curled venomous snake. The only exceptions on the two were the fact that this Ciel Phantomhive had an eye-patch over one eye, and of course the difference in clothing.
Ciel felt scared for some reason. And the reason was not the fact he saw himself sitting there in a picture dated over a hundred years ago. No, there was another reason.
There was another man standing behind where this Ciel Phantomhive was seated. A butler dressed completely in black.
An inhuman looking man, with a smile that had haunted Ciel’s dreams.
Ciel was only vaguely aware of the tears running out of only one of his eyes, or of Helena calling his name before he collapsed.
--
There was a Bar in New York City that Sebastian often visited. It was truly a pit, a sty in the ‘Big Apple’. Smoke curled around the room like a python bent of choking the air out of every living creature, reminding Sebastian vaguely of Lau. The smell however was far worse than the underground opium dens in turn of the century London. Business men that wanted to drown their sorrows along with the other street scum, the worst of the worst humans all congregated in this bar. It was a wonderful feeding ground for Demons.
Sebastian did his best to ignore the redhead next to him who was gulping down one effeminate drink after the other. Grell was quite the pain, like some horrible parasite. He was chasing away business, no one would come up to Sebastian now and spill their entire lives story only wishing for ‘some way out of it all’, when there was a loud gay man-thing sitting next to him.
Sighing, Sebastian raised his cold red eyes to the rest of the room. One man in the other corner of the room was staring blankly down into the drink, one possible meal. Another chubby balding man with a south Bronx accent was screaming obscenities at the television, ‘Oh come on! Goddamnit I’m out another five thousand!’, A man wanting money is willing to do just about anything; another possible meal.
Sebastian let his eyes rest on a fairly young looking girl sitting next to a man who was grinning an oily smile at another owlish type looking fellow. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. There was an exchange of money, the girl kept her face down, tightening her coat around her frail body as if protecting it from a far worse evil than anything supernatural. Sebastian decided she was the best choice for a contract.
He liked her. She reminded him a bit of Ciel, she looked so small and delicate and yet there was a frantic anger behind her eyes. She was willing to do anything to get away, and from how she was radiating a silent hate it wouldn’t take much for her to want to see blood running from the men that had harmed her.
“She’s pretty right? Such a shame!”
Grell chuckled in such a way it made it perfectly apparent he didn’t think it was a shame at all. Sebastian raised one perfect eyebrow slightly.
“I highly doubt you find her attractive, let alone find the prostitution happening abominable.”
Grell let out a flowy laugh, sending a flirty tooth filled smile towards Sebastian. Quite revolting really.
“I didn’t mean that, silly. And no, she’s not my type, though she’ll look much more attractive later tonight…all covered in blood.”
The smile got bigger, like the mad Cheshire cat.
Well it explained some things. Obviously a Death God would know something like that…Sebastian cast one last look at the girl as she left the building with the owlish man, the man now had a new wicked gleam to his eyes. It wouldn’t be long before the people of New York would be seeing her cold face on the nightly News, bloodied and mangled, much as it wouldn’t be long before Grell would be standing over her doing his job.
--
“Oi, you got a call.”
Sebastian and Grell both stared blankly at the man behind the bar.
“You..you don’t mean Sebby do you?”
“Hey man..man right? I don’t know, I just got some call from a English dude saying he needed to speak to someone named Sebastian. He said what you looked like, n’ was goin’ ta’ leave a message, but I told him you were here so I’d tell you right away, ya know’? N’ then he told me to tell you to call him back once I told ya’, Kay’?”
“That makes no sens-“
“Where is your phone?”
Sebastian cut in rather quickly, there was only one English man he knew of that would leave him a message.
--
This man’s name was Alastair Fennelwick, he was a bit stuffy and uptight but he had his uses. The last time Sebastian had been back to the UK in 1941, he had met a very much younger Alastair. He had just inherited his Grandfathers Antique store.
It had quite the assortment, some of the items were of great interest to Sebastian; books that contained records on the Phantomhive’s, old newspapers with a few pictures of the Phantomhive family members (Some dating before Ciel’s father), toys that had the Phantomhive crest. Sebastian took every last one, like he had done in every other book and antique store before he had left the Isles.
Not for sentimental reasons.
He destroyed every last one, burning them all to ash.
For some reason, Sebastian had felt almost protective over it all. He wanted absolutely no one sticking their noses into business that didn’t concern them, and things Sebastian knew Ciel wouldn’t have wanted getting out. No, Ciel would have rather had everything to disappear, so Sebastian the ever faithful butler wiped away all traces he could.
He didn’t need to, of course. The contract had been fulfilled when Ciel had died, and yet Sebastian still returned right after the boy’s death. He gave word to the surviving three; Finny, Maylene and Bard. He Informed Elizabeth of the death of her fiancé. He buried Pluto’s bones along with a tearful Finny who was still, regardless of it being the right thing to do, quite guilt ridden over the death of the demon beast.
For awhile things had been safe, the three had been there to protect the memory of the Phantomhives without letting information leak out. The head of Scotland Yard and the Queen made no moves to investigate or bring anything to light; Sebastian was sure they were more than happy to let the Phantomhive family memory die.
However, by the end of the Blitz in 1941, all those who had once known Ciel Phantomhive were dead; The Queen, Maylene, Finny and Bard along with those in Scotland Yard that had known. This would seem like it would be even safer, but no. This meant a new wave of eager historians, desperate to reclaim the past after so many things and places they had held dear in the present had been destroyed in the attacks.
Sebastian, even after destroying everything that the Fennelwick family had regarding the Phantomhives, being the ever clever demon he was instructed young Alastair to alert him in some method if anyone was to come around looking deeply into the Phantomhive name. (By ‘instructed’ he means scared the youth witless). He had give Alastair a number of addresses and phone numbers worldwide, since Sebastian very rarely stuck around in one area for very long. One of the numbers he had left was to this very bar in the middle of New York city.
--
“Alastair Fennelwick, it has been quite some time. Is the reason you have contacted me for the reason I specified?”
Sebastian was in a back room, further away from the pool tables, smell and noise. No one was back here, which is what made it the perfect spot to discuss business. Sebastian was quite sure he wasn’t the only being who had discovered this, judging by the amount of bad trade in the bar.
“Ah yes, er Sebastian Michaels sir, you see I did in fact remember quite well what you had asked, but I never expected anyone to come into the shop for that you see. Not once in all my years of running this shop had I gotten one person investigating the...the thing you said never to name.”
Well it was good to see Alastair hadn’t changed much in the last few decades. He had always been the type to ramble when he got nervous. Sebastian could just see him now, running hands through his thinning hair and straightening out his very out of style tweed jacket.
“Alastair, please do not waste my time.”
He spoke with a cold tone to his voice, one that could curl the very air around him, with a very familiar smirk present on his inhuman hips.
“OH , Oh I am sorry, really ever so sorry!..Well since..I’ve told you..may..may I now leave, sir, please?”
“No, Alastair. I want details, I want to know what type of person was looking into that subject. I would be very happy with you if you had happened to catch their name.”
“Ah, well you know I thought it was quite strange you know? It was a young boy, at first I was certain he was going to try and lift something since that is what boys at that age tend to do when they come in my shop. Honestly, in my youth we actually helped our elders and had an interest in-“
“Alastair.”
“OH, er I mean, yes it was a boy. Around 13, maybe 15 at the oldest, yet he acted far older. He came in saying he had checked various other shops looking for a certain item, and I told him that I was sure we would have what he was looking for because I do have the best shop in London, if I do say so myself-“
“Alas-“
“AH, Er yes young boy, obviously English, though it didn’t sound exactly like he was from London, possibly a northern accent. When I told him I hadn’t heard of the ‘subject’ he was looking for he looked quite upset, and not sad upset, more like he was about to strike me. The attitude on the boy, you should have seen the look he gave me when he was leaving the shop..er! Details, well let’s see he was between 150cm to possibly 165cm, skinny, blue eyes I remember, very blue. Not sky blue, sea blue. Hmm and his hair..I thought it was black at first. Thought maybe he was Irish or Welsh with those colorings, but it almost had a blue glow to it in the lights. Though I’m sure it was just dyed, since apparently kids these days enjoy making their hair look like a fishing lure..”
“I’m hanging up now Alastair. Thank you for the information, I will decide if I wish to come in person later. “
“I-i-in perso-“
Click.
Sebastian leaned against the wall that the phone was connected to, crossing one leg over the other and bring his hand to his chin.
A young boy between 13-15, with blue eyes and dark blue hair. How very peculiar, how very strange indeed.
Sebastian decided it was about time he revisit England.
He might even visit Ciel’s tombstone.
------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------Till next time.
Authors notes: ..Erm. I..I don’t know what to say. Okay first off..I’m not British, so I’ve probably gotten about a billion things wrong. Second..I apologize for bad grammar and being just generally unimaginative XD I really needa go to bed
Will Ciel and Sebastian meet next chapter? ……They’ll meet quicker if you give me more wonderful reviews!