Work Text:
Casualties of the Weather
Rain, Rain go away, come again some other day…
Sebastian nuzzled into the boy’s charcoal-grey locks and began to lick his right ear in earnest, but even this affectionate display from his favorite pet couldn’t help the tone that now pervaded the sitting room.
Ciel pouted. He sat on the floor, leaned his small back against the reclining borzoi, and pushed his Noah’s Ark away with his right foot, displeased with the way the afternoon was going. “Mummy was supposed to take me to a park today,” he murmured to the attentive hound, “but then it got cold and rainy, again and then that stuffy, stubble-chinned Marchioness Winterfield made a surprise visit and now Mummy is stuck having tea.”
Ciel thought back to the apologetic expression of his pretty mother as she pulled a few of his toys from a box to entertain him while she was otherwise occupied. Unlike most of mother’s callers, the Marchioness believed that children should not be seen or heard, so he could not even share the time the ugly woman had stolen from him.
”I’m so sorry, Ciel. Mummy will be in the next room. If you need something, ring for Tanaka. It’s just for a little while, and then we can go call on Lizzy if you want to.”
Ciel had given her his brave smile because he was an Earl’s son. He understood obligation, and knew that the flabby-shinned woman with the bright orange hat had to be entertained, even though her card had arrived barely ten minutes before she had sashayed by Tanaka at the front door with her lady-in-waiting.
This left just Ciel and Sebastian in the sitting room. Sebastian was the paragon of his breeding: he was fast and quick and affectionate, but his long legs meant for running did little good cooped up inside the Phantomhive estate while the cold rain drizzled on the panes. And despite the fact that his father had begun a very successful toy company and Ciel had all of the toys he could ever have wished for, his mother always insisted on bringing out the most boring and Lizzy-friendly, even when Lizzy was not around…
Which…he wished she was…because right now he was so incredibly annoyed and there was nothing to do but curse British weather in November and pout. He was lonely and bored and lonely and boooored.
“Ahh, I hate this,” he crossed his arms over his tiny chest and snuggled back into Sebastian’s deep, curly coat. “Someone, I don’t care who, come and save me from this boring, boring day!”
At that very moment Ciel’s ear picked up the sound of the front door opening and a pair of voices he instantly recognized as if in answer to a prayer!
“PAPA!!” Ciel jumped up and ran as fast as he could to the foyer where his father, Vincent Phantomhive, was just handing his hat and cloak to Tanaka. Vincent had been engaged in a somewhat serious conversation with a second man when Ciel saw him turn his head as his only son barreled (somewhat un-heirlike) through the door.
Ciel wasn’t used to seeing his father look so serious, but just as he thought to hesitate, Vincent’s face broke into a grin and he bent at the knee to receive the seven-year-old boy in the red, white, and blue sailor suit into his outstretched arms.
“And speaking of tenacious, here is the little man of much greater merit.” Ciel burst with joy as his father lifted him easily into the air. Clutching his father’s white collar with his small hands Ciel beamed. He didn’t know what the word “tenacious” meant, but the tone of his father’s voice was full of pride as he swung him to greet the guest.
“Ciel, greet Uncle Diederich,” Vincent encouraged, grinning broadly at the severe-looking man in the olive-colored military dress who frowned at his friend’s sudden change of topic.
“Welcome back, Uncle Diederich,” Ciel obliged gravely, putting out his right hand, trying to meet the same level of gravity he sensed in the German man’s demeanor. Because his father held him, they were blue eyes to hazel.
There was a moment of emptiness. Diederich’s left eyebrow raised and he seemed suddenly unable to speak as he cast an impatient glare over Ciel’s head.
“Diederich, you are in Britain now, and not in front of your troops. Be courteous to my son; he hasn’t seen you in six months,” Vincent’s tone was warm but insistent with the barest edge of a warning. Ciel was very familiar with it because it was The Voice You Obey at all costs.
Apparently this magical voice worked on adults as well, for the austere visitor finally sighed and relaxed slightly as he took the tiny hand in his own for a firm shake. “Thank you, Ciel. It is a pleasure to be back.” His response had an accent and was efficient and somewhat businesslike, but when Uncle Diederich released his grip he scrubbed a hand affectionately through Ciel’s already unkempt hair.
The business with the guest finished, Ciel turned his face to his father, “Papa, that horrid woman has taken Mummy away for tea. Come play with me, come play with me!” he begged, bouncing a little in excitement. Because his father was always so busy with work, Ciel’s sun and moon moved solely by the moments Vincent spent seeing to his studies, giving him riddles to solve, or playing horsey on his bedroom floor. Each time his father had an idea for a new toy, they tested it out together.
Something had been keeping his father away lately, however. There had been no new toys for days and days and his mother had to simply repeat, “Papa is very busy,” whenever he complained. But now he was here, with Uncle Diederich as well (who was a real, true soldier!)
“Oh ho! Stolen Mummy away? What a terrible crime to take a mother from her sweet, darling little boy,” Vincent nuzzled Ciel’s hair with sincere affection and Ciel giggled, capturing the head with his hands to keep the instrument of torment at bay.
His father sighed and gazed wistfully at him and Ciel knew he was on the verge of losing his father to more work. It was time to bring out the Ultimate Weapon!
“Please, Papa, please,” he wrapped his hands around Vincent’s neck and kissed him on the mole beneath his right eye, “please play with me.” He looked over at Uncle Diederich and added as a brilliant afterthought. “We can play soldiers!” He beamed, hoping to get the efficient dark-haired man on his side instead of opposed to the diversion.
Vincent’s face melted.
Diederich sighed.
“Do you see this child of mine? Does he not possess the skill of ultimate manipulation?” Vincent beamed.
“Yes, so very like his father,” Diederich raised an eyebrow and gave a certain look to his father that Ciel could still not figure out. “Of course, being his son, it was only to be expected.”
Sensing his advantage, Ciel pressed his greatest opposition. “Please, Uncle Diederich, please. Just for a little? You’ll like these soldiers! Papa just brought them home last week!”
The German made one last-ditch effort. “Vincent, we only returned for…that one thing. If we don’t make haste…”
“Now, now, Diederich,” Vincent tilted his head, his Teaching Voice firmly in place, “why don’t we ask Ciel about the situation while we play soldiers?”
Ciel’s eyes grew wide. Ask…ask him? Ask him about something?
Diederich coughed and turned pale while Ciel flushed with joy.
“Vincent, honestly, you have surprised me often enough, but you can’t be seriously considering…he’s only just a boy.”
“Tsk, tsk!” Vincent began with a smile as he turned in the direction of the playroom, “just whose son do you think you are talking about? Ciel is a Phantomhive, and he is a very bright young lad with a head for puzzles.”
Diederich had no choice but to follow after, though he seemed terribly disturbed by something. Ciel watched him from over his father’s shoulder, perplexed by the way that the other man was pointedly not looking him in the face at all. Vincent’s voice was light and airy and contained none of the subtle markers that would have normally warned Ciel or the servants that the Earl of Phantomhive was unhappy about something.
“Diederich,” Vincent paused at the door of Ciel’s playroom and turned to put a hand gently on the other man’s arm, “trust me.”
For what seemed like the 10th time since he arrived, Ciel watched Uncle Diederich tense and then relax with a sigh. “Vincent Phantomhive, Du bist der Teufel selbst…” he murmured in his native tongue.*
Vincent laughed then and Ciel’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as his father set him down. “All right, Ciel, let’s play with soldiers!”
“Hurrah!” Ciel cheered as his father took a handsome lacquered wood box from a high shelf. It was embellished with the newly designed Funtom Toys logo. Vincent knelt down right on the floor with his son and opened the case. The elder Phantomhive’s face glowed with recaptured innocence as he lifted a red, white, and blue-painted metal figure from its place in the crushed-velvet bed.
Ciel knelt, hands on his thighs, face alight with awe as his father smiled down at him. “Do you like them very much, Ciel?” he asked earnestly.
“Oh, yes, Papa! They are my favorite of all the toys! But,” his face fell and he bit his lip, “Mummy never takes them down for me.”
Vincent chuckled and leaned forward to place a doting kiss on his son’s downcast head. “She is a mummy, after all, and mummies are afraid when their precious babies want to play at war.”
“Why? Isn’t our army the greatest army in the world?” Ciel asked innocently.
“Yes,” Vincent agreed, but his eyebrows drew together for an instant in an expression Ciel had never seen before, “but, you see, if a boy learns to hold a gun, it means that someone will point a gun back at him.”
Ciel felt the air stop in his chest.
Ironically, it was Diederich who rescued them both. “Vincent,” he began gently, “we’re here to play a game with your adorable son. Remember?”
Vincent’s face broke into a smile and Ciel felt time and the earth begin to rotate again. He realized his little hands hurt from having just clenched around his blue sailor shorts. What had that face been just now? It was…full of…fear? No. He must have truly imagined it.
“Of course! Game!” Vincent began to remove the soldiers and handed them to Ciel one by one. Ciel began to dutifully set them up in rows just as his father had taught him.
When they were all at the ready, the first in a kneeling position prepared to fire, Ciel looked to his father.
“Who shall be the villains, Papa?” Ciel thought of the endless possibilities in the game room. There were a few stuffed bears, a set of wooden horses with riders, tops, a train set, and a few balls all within easy reach.
“Ahh, good question, my son,” Vincent pulled his legs together Indian style, and propped his amused face on his right hand, elbow resting on a knee. “Let’s say that there is only one villain, and that he is in hiding.”
“Hiding?” Ciel looked up from his soldiers. Hiding. A game. A true game! “Where is he hiding?”
“Well now, that is just the problem, isn’t it? If the Queen’s soldiers knew where to find the villain, they could get to him and stop him.”
“Oh,” Ciel nodded. Of course, the true test was to locate the bad guy, and not simply overwhelm him with cleverly trained soldiers. “I understand. So what is the villain?”
“What is he?” Vincent asked, curious.
“Yes. Depending on what kind of thing he is will determine where he is hiding, right?” Ciel was warming up to this game. His father was so attentive to him right now! He would definitely figure out the puzzle and have his father’s grand smile and kisses as a reward.
“Ahh, very true, Ciel! Well done! Hmmm,” Vincent considered carefully and then looked up, his clear gray eyes focusing on his son’s blue eyes. “Let’s say that he is a rat.”
“A rat?” Ciel asked.
“Yes. A rat. A very large rat.”
“That’s rather unpleasant, Papa,” Ciel chided his father seriously, and then he turned his head sharply at Uncle Diederich who had just barked out a laugh. Ciel thought about being cross with the German man who looked strangely vulnerable kneeling on his play room floor, but it was difficult to be angry with a man who so very rarely laughed.
“Did I say something funny?” Ciel asked his father quizzically.
Vincent took his hand away from his mouth where he had been clearly stifling some mirth of his own. “No, my son, it’s just that you…looked very much like a grown up just now berating my choice of villain.”
Ciel waved his hand imperiously, “tell me more about this rat. Is he very big?”
“Oh yes,” Vincent replied, his respectful tone indicating that he was getting into his son’s mood. “In fact, he thinks he is the King of All Rats.”
Ciel considered this new information. “Rats are disgusting creatures that carry the plague,” he reasoned.
“Exactly so!” Vincent’s index finger pointed towards the ceiling. “Now, Ciel, let’s say that this bad guy rat is…” Vincent considered a moment as he tried to create a reasonable analogy for his protégé, “let’s say it’s here in the Phantomhive Mansion.”
The young boy’s eyes furrowed. But the mansion was huge! There were many rooms he liked to play Hide-And-Seek in with Lizzy on rainy days like this, but there were many other places where he wasn’t allowed to go. What if the rat could hide in any of those places? Then this riddle wouldn’t be fair at all! No, no, Ciel reasoned, his father would not have given him a riddle that he couldn’t solve.
Think, think…
“Papa,” Ciel began, his eyes scrunched in thought, “this is a Very Big Fat Rat?” he confirmed.
“About as fat as a rat can be,” Ciel loved the expression on his father’s face at that moment. It was if he was trying to see inside Ciel’s mind, and it made him excited to think he might have figured out the answer.
“Then….the rat is in the kitchen pantry,” he said with confidence.
“The kitchen pantry?” Vincent enquired, looking up at Uncle Diederich who shrugged as if to say, “he is your son.” “Why the kitchen pantry, Ciel? As a big fat rat, wouldn’t he have been noticed and gotten rid of by the cook?”
“Well, I thought of that first,” Ciel began slowly, but then picked up speed as he rounded out his explanation, “but you said he was big and fat. That means that he must eat a lot of food. The only place with enough food to feed a big fat rat is in the kitchen pantry. As for the matter of having gotten rid of him, he must be a very clever rat just because he has gotten big and fat, right? If he wasn’t very very smart, then he’d be dead right now. So…I don’t know where exactly the rat is in the kitchen pantry, but he must be there somewhere. Maybe he burrowed into something.”
Vincent blinked. He looked up at Diederich. “Of course, a fat rat has to stay close to a plentiful food source.”
Diederich blanched and a look of understanding crept across his features. “You don’t think…”
“Diederich, my friend, what a pair of idiots we are. All of this time we thought he had gone to ground, but he must be in the most obvious place. He’s just found a way to conceal himself in plain sight.” Vincent turned to his son, and Ciel felt himself being suddenly lifted into the air. “My charming, bright boy!”
Ciel laughed as his father threw him into the air once, twice, and then brought him close to cuddle him.
“Did I get it right then, Papa?”
“Exactly right, my bonny boy,” Vincent tapped him on the nose. “And now tell me, now that you know where the rat is, what must be done?”
Ciel shrugged his shoulders as if the answer was obvious, “well, we have to get the Queen’s Soldiers into the kitchen pantry and unload everything, and find it and kill it, of course.”
“Kill it? So drastic a measure?” Vincent asked softly.
“Yes, Papa,” Ciel answered. “It carries disease, and, besides, it’s just a rat.”
“Indeed, my son. Indeed, it’s just a rat…” Ciel felt that his father’s smile had suddenly become unfathomable, but then Vincent showered him with a lifetime of kisses and Ciel forgot his worries in that strong, warm embrace.
“And now, my precious boy, Papa and Uncle Diederich sadly have to go back to work,” Vincent smiled brightly, “so give me a kiss and run along and play. Mummy’s visitor will be leaving soon, I wager.”
Ciel whined, but without any real force. He had played a wonderful game with his father and had received such lavish and astute attention from the most wonderful man in Britain! He could hardly complain that his day had been ruined by the rain now.
Vincent Phantomhive tucked a new pistol out of sight as he and Diederich walked swiftly to the waiting carriage.
“That was too close, Vincent. If Ciel had seen the blood stains two seconds earlier…” Diederich pulled the brim of his hat down to proof his head against the dismal November rain.
“Well, there goes another bloody cloak,” The Queen’s watchdog sighed as he opened the carriage door and let himself in, “but honestly, Rachel and Ciel were supposed to have been gone all day.”
“Little did we know that the weather that caused our misfortune earlier with Shu Fei would have driven them back indoors as well,” Diederich called out an address to the carriage driver who nudged the horses in into swift action.
“Indeed. An unfortunate mess the weather made of him, and my cloak,” he grinned darkly, “but now there is no need of his information, thanks to Ciel.”
Diederich shook his head. “We don’t know for certain, and really, Vincent, you need to stop accidentally murdering spies. It’s counterproductive.” The German soldier straightened his uniform coat and sat back in the carriage for the long ride into London.
“Perhaps it was extremely productive,” Vincent smirked, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he surveyed his companion. “Would you care to make a wager on it?”
Diederich turned his head slightly, sensing the danger, but his hard eyes sharpened to an intense edge.
“Only if you are putting yourself up as tribute…” he growled leaning across the short expanse of space between them, interested.
Vincent nodded and sank back into his seat, victorious. “That’s the spirit, my friend…”
FIN
*In German: “Vincent Phantomhive, you are the devil himself.”
THANKS TO KALINA FOR HELPING WITH THAT! Orz