Chapter Text
When the rescue ship blared its horn in the distance, some sort of tension Ciel didn't know was in his chest loosened. At least, he thought somewhat sarcastically, he would not die freezing in a broken boat in the middle of the Atlantic ocean this night.
Before tonight, he didn't think he would have actually worried about that. He would have doubted he could've ever actually died--that Sebastian would ever let him.
But he had learned some limits to his butler he had not ever imagined before.
The horn sounded again, loud, washing through the air like a tangible thing he could grab if he tried hard enough, and another shiver wracked his body, involuntary and painful. The relief he felt was overwhelmed by the reminder he still had to sit in this squalid boat until his rescue.
He heard a contemplative noise from behind him that he had learned a while ago meant Sebastian was assessing his health.
"Here, young master," Sebastian said quietly, wrapping the wool coat on his shoulders tighter, as if that could help, as if he wasn't still just as wet as before. When Sebastian pulled his hand away, Ciel was dismayed to find himself automatically leaning with it, chasing the contact.
It had been a rough night. He hadn't slept yet. He doubted it meant anything.
Either way, Sebastian noticed. Fortunately for him, he misinterpreted it.
"Don't worry, young master. The ship will reach us shortly. I'm sure it won't be long now until you'll be warm again."
Ciel eyed the number of emergency boats between them and the rescue ship and silently wondered if Sebastian was purposely trying to comfort him despite the obstacles or just did not conceptualize time the same way as humans. He didn't answer.
He sat, and waited, and tried not to give in to overwhelming the urge for sleep.
The ship finally began to approach their little boat, and the relief that sunk into Ciel's bones almost knocked him out. He didn't realize how tired and unsteady he was until rest was within sight.
Theirs was the last emergency boat to be spotted and subsequently rushed to--after a bit of undignified shouting and flailing on their part. It'd taken a while for the ship to reach them, far apart as they were from the rest of everyone, but eventually it was there, and furthermore, once it was close enough he was able to see the heads of his aunt and uncle above the railing, straining to see him.
He gave a tired handwave of acknowledgement. He couldn't be sure from this distance, but he thought he saw his aunt sigh in relief while Alexis clutched a hand to his chest.
"It seems your family has arrived before us, safe and sound." Sebastian's voice was a mimicry of its typical cheerful blandness, washed out into tired bluntness. He was sitting across from Ciel now, done with slowly paddling their boat closer, also resting. Ciel didn't think he'd ever seen his butler so unkempt, with his hair a mess, his clothes covered in blood and gore and water that had only slightly dried, and his usual layers missing, both physically and metaphorically.
Some part of him relished the opportunity to see his own personal demon looking so human, but mostly--it made his chest ache confusingly in a manner that felt far too similar to fear.
"How are you?" he asked quietly, without thinking, without answering Sebastian's previous comment.
Sebastian's eyes flicked to him in the quickest movement he'd seen from him since the sun had risen. "I beg your pardon?" The clear confusion in his voice spoke volumes: since when did Ciel care about his personal wellbeing?
Well. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but he knew it to be since sometime last night.
He'd just cleared his throat to give a proper (and ill-conceived) explanation, when the ship finally pulled in far enough for voices to make themselves distinct. They were the crewmates calling out to them, shouting to ask if they were okay, yelling instructions for how they were going to pull up close and get them situated.
It was an unnecessarily time consuming process, but soon there was a painted metal hull beside them, and a rope ladder above them being cast.
He didn't see Francis or Alexis on the railing above, but he assumed they either couldn't make it through the crowd, or were simply held back by Francis's desire to not get in the way of the sailors' job.
He stood, letting the almost useless coat fall from his shoulders and slide to the ground with a wet plop. He was proud to say he only wobbled a little when he put his foot on the rope ladder.
"Young master," Sebastian said behind him, reaching out a hand to his back to steady him.
...Maybe not as solid as he thought.
Trying to climb the ladder before him felt like a losing battle before it even started, but he was determined to make it past the final hurdle of this whole ordeal. He had not faced rotting walking corpses and icy water and a ship determined to drag them all down to a bottomless hell with it only to be carried up the side of a ship like a child. Especially not in front of his family (actual proximity be damned).
"Do you--"
"No," he answered, meaning it to sound determined and only coming out tired. "It's only a few meters."
Soon, I'll be on that ship and given a hot drink and a warm blanket and eventually, a bed. This is the only thing in my way.
He could feel Sebastian's dubious gaze boring into his head, as well as his hands that kept anxiously supporting the ladder and him as he climbed, slowly, agonizingly, feeling as heavy as the Campania herself now drifting below the water.
Eventually he made it to the top, no thanks to his sprained ankle, and the feeling of the treated wood panelling of the deck under his hands felt like some sort of miracle. He was immediately flocked by crewmen helping him stand and pulling him to his feet.
"Ciel!" came an agitated voice and his head snapped up to see his aunt and uncle predictably on their way across the ship.
Aunt Francis had her skirts in her hand and was rushing in a manner that was decidedly not polite. Alexis was behind and a bit more carefully passing inbetween other rescued passengers.
"Ciel!" she called again upon reaching him, immediately grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him up and down worriedly. He didn't push her away.
She took in his ripped clothes, bruised face, bloodied knees, and the way he favored one leg with a grim but observant eye, and then stepped back, only for the process to repeat a bit more vigorously with Alexis.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, Uncle," Ciel protested weakly, too sore for his Uncle's fussing and hugs right now. He'd get enough of those later from Lizzy, wherever she may be. Speaking of--
He opened his mouth but his aunt beat him to it.
"Sebastian!" Her voice was quite frankly more alarmed than he thought necessary, but when he turned to see Sebastian himself reaching the top of the ladder, he realized perhaps he may have had a biased perspective.
Sebastian was, to put it bluntly, a mess. Ciel knew that anyway, on their little lifeboat, but seeing him side by side with the rest of the crew--seeing the remains of other survivors drifting around the deck--there was no doubt in his mind that there was not a person still alive who had stepped foot on the Campania that looked worse off than Sebastian did right now.
His hair, usually a topic of distaste for Francis, was even more disarrayed than usual, falling into his eyes and clumped in patches of gelled blood. Both his overcoat and suit jacket were gone, and he was left in simply his trousers, vest, and dress shirt, all in various states of tearing and staining. He was only wearing one glove, on his left hand--which Ciel was almost certain had been on his other one the last time he'd seen it--and the white cloth hid nothing of the deep, dirty black and browning stains despite the soaking both it and Sebastian had taken in the ocean. And he was soaked, moreso than Ciel who had only fallen in once, been dragged out, and hidden in the bottom of the boat to avoid the fallout of the Dolls splashing about and surging around them.
And that was to say nothing of the sheer amount of blood that had found its way to cover him head to toe, regardless of cloth or flesh or whatever made up the chemical makeup of a demon, the color and spread horrifying and appalling in the morning sun and in the company of clean, well-dressed rescuers.
It was mostly not his blood, he'd told Ciel earlier and that was true, but looking closer, Ciel was unnerved to notice that there was more of it that was his than he had noticed before. Granted, their recent encounter with the corpses was unlikely to have done any real damage on Sebastian, mostly superficial scratches, but it still looked bad. And the real ones, left over from his fight with Undertaker (and the other two reapers) were more noticeable under said brightness of sunlight rather than seen under the light of gas lamps amidst a frenzied battle.
Were he a human, Ciel himself might have wondered how he was even standing, especially with the clear fatigue on his face.
And that was exactly what every mortal in a ten foot radius would think, he realized, evidenced by the spreading wave of gasps and alarmed cries as the crowd of rescuers began to notice the state of their second new passenger.
"Sebastian," Francis declared again, breathlessly, clearly without her usual gift for words and organization in the face of such a shock--and it must've been, for if he had never seen his butler in a state like this, then especially neither had anyone who had never even known Sebastian as more than the timely, polite servant that he played.
Perhaps the butler realized it too, because he lowered head somewhat more deferentially than required, even considering the more lax air about them all in the aftermath of a tragedy, and made an attempt at a shallow bow to presumably save face. Ciel himself was saved from further contemplation on the concept of demonic shame when Sebastian suddenly grimaced in obvious pain from the movement and hunched forward with an arm falling to his side protectively.
It wasn't exactly holding his abdomen, but it was enough to draw surrounding attention to the area of his shirtfront, which was, of course, when given a slightly closer inspection, the source of much of the blood there.
Alexis gasped with horror and without hesitation began demanding a doctor from someone nearby. Ciel wondered somewhat hysterically what would happen when a human doctor tried to treat a demon masquerading as a man for a stomach wound that should have killed him hours ago.
"I'm fine," Sebastian protested almost immediately and Ciel would've backed up the sentiment, if not for the way the butler immediately wavered and buckled and caught himself on the railing with a clearly pained air. A pained air that was only exacerbated by the heavy breathing that was only a shade away from becoming panting, and the quick, distinct creak-pop of the metal piping under Sebastian's hand giving way.
The butler jerked it back with a shocked look that faded back to exhaustion (and Ciel saw his aunt's quick eyes catch every movement) as he somehow continued to manage to stay upright by himself.
Ciel swallowed, feeling almost eclipsed by the small crowd staring at the great display that was his demon, clearly reemerged from the other side of hell again.
He had seemed fine a minute ago. Well, not fine, but better. Resting. It had been weird to see him in such a state, but not truly, worrisome, right? Surely the climb up the ladder couldn't have exhausted him that much, right?
Did he need medical attention after all?
No--that was a stupid idea and he didn't know where he got it from. There was quite literally nothing that a doctor could do for Sebastian that he couldn't do himself with a little rest. Probably.
What Ciel presumed to be a reasonably medically professional looking man came over soon enough, and the intent for Sebastian to follow him and Alexis was clear even from Ciel’s place a few meters from the action.
As was Sebastian’s reluctance. And Alexis’s insistence.
Ciel stepped forward at the same time somebody put their hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to perhaps physically drag him off if necessary and Sebastian flinched--but why shouldn’t he? He didn’t like to be touched, after all, the two of them had that in common.
“Unhand my servant,” he said, with some measure of authority that he didn’t feel, but shocked the sailors around them nonetheless. Taking in the remains of his outfit, perhaps they were less shocked--most nobles, even the children of them, had an audacity to them, no matter their real extent of power, and Ciel did indeed have even more than that perceived power that came to simply being a rich and obnoxious teenager, but he supposed it was true that he also wasn't exactly looking like anybody’s idea of an Earl or the Queen’s Watchdog right now. They could be forgiven for the raised eyebrows and the fact that nobody removed said hand from said servant.
When Francis, however, stood behind him after his command, they did. He noted how Sebastian relaxed minutely from that.
“Your servant needs medical aid, Ciel,” Alexis said, tone firm but gentled, as if Ciel was a child who did not understand the situation before him and was simply acting emotionally, irrationally. As if he was about to refuse his poor butler help when he was so clearly at death’s door simply because Ciel did not want to let his (perceived--accurately) confidante out of sight. He tried not to let his ire out.
“I know,” he relented, receiving an almost amusingly betrayed look from Sebastian. “I was about to say that myself. Sebastian, go with the doctor.”
Oh, and the betrayed look intensified, with a genuinely hilarious note of shock to it. “Young master--” Sebastian protested, one of the very rare attempts of his at true argumentation.
“Go,” Ciel interrupted simply, not having much energy to put more than that authority to it. And perhaps, not wanting to fight Alexis on this because he, too, was worried about Sebastian’s state. “That’s an order.”
Sebastian quieted immediately, mouth thinning. Before he could respond, Ciel beat him to it, with a softer explanation.
“Let them see that you are not so terribly off as that. But don’t strain yourself.” Don’t show them the gaping hole in your abdomen. But don’t pretend to be alright.
Message received, the butler bowed his head in acceptance, though clearly not happy about it. “Yes, my lord.”
Both Alexis and the doctor relaxed as well, seemingly glad they didn’t have to fight their object of concern any longer. Sebastian was led away, slowly, in the direction of an above-board cabin that may have been functioning as a temporary doctor’s office.
Ciel noticed he was limping as he went.
He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when Sebastian disappeared behind the door leading to the doctor's quarters. It felt like a hidden weight--temporarily alleviated--had dropped back onto his shoulders--and subsequently his leg.
He stumbled when he turned to thank Francis for her silent aid and was caught by her hands against his shoulders--capable and strong, but not the hands he was used to catching him.
"Sorry," he muttered, re-righting himself under her silent, scrutinizing gaze.
She didn't say anything. Simply held onto him as he regained his footing, and directed him carefully to another side of the ship, presumably to talk about what had happened and get him looked over as well.
It was something he both admired and loathed about aunt Francis. Her stern, observant eyes caught every movement, expression, and detail in front of her, whether or not she said anything about it. Her nature made it difficult to discern what was going on in her mind when she didn't feel the need to add any commentary to a situation.
He had often wondered what she thought about a great many things, as she did not often give out her thoughts besides critiques and simple information. Now, he wondered specifically what she thought of all this--of what had happened in the time between their separation on the ship, of what had caused the state of himself and his butler.
He had often wondered what she thought about Sebastian in general, besides her strict adherence to the unspoken rules of high society. There were some things she must know, or guess at, simply by Sebastian's presence in his life--many things. His butler's capability. The sordid nature of their meeting. And even personal matters, such as their relationship.
But he'd wondered that regarding just about everyone inside his family and out that had known him before. About the questions, and the mystery of it all. About gaps in time. About the looks he got when the adults around him thought he didn't see, and thought Sebastian couldn't.
Ciel wasn't stupid. He knew what people close enough to make guesses but distant enough to not know the details--which was everyone, actually, besides himself and Sebastian--thought about their relationship. Aunt Angelina--Madam Red--had implied it enough in her time, in her visits, accompanied by fond or amused looks as befitted the conversation, always waving away his protests of denial with an easy hand, like she was humoring him. Like she was just glad someone else was watching over him.
He'd wondered sometimes if Francis, with her keen eyes, ever saw Sebastian in a small moment of correcting his hair or clothing, and thought there was more to the butler's fond exasperation than polite humor. Or if Alexis, with his deceptively affable personality, ever looked at the same and thought not of just a boy and his butler, but of his young nephew, and of his wife's brother.
If, despite his status and position, despite all his achievements and successes, they still just looked at him and saw a child with a tragic history in need of a guiding hand.
But the thing was that--even now, with all of his experience of the world, both the mundane and grand, the pleasant and the distasteful, all of his real experience with the real nature of life--with all that he had earned and all he was capable of--even now, in moments like this, of quiet strife and private thoughts, he couldn't read his own family's expressions as they talked to him. He couldn't grasp the look in his aunt's eye as she asked him what had happened, nor whether the tilt to her mouth upon receiving the answer was positive or negative. He still felt small in response to both.
Even now, he sometimes wondered himself if he was that child.
And what would that make Sebastian?
The reunion with Elizabeth was predictably emotional, with both her tears and Edward's glaring overshadowing most of everything else about the interaction, even seeing Snake again--perfectly fine besides worry for his small companions and how to hide them aboard the chaotic rescue ship. They'd all three (and more, if you counted Snake's snakes, which he didn't) also made it out fine, thanks to him and Sebastian drawing the Dolls away--something he made the mistake of mentioning to his family at such a highly charged moment, leading to even more retroactive alarm, which of course meant even more crying and even more useless anger Ciel didn't know what to do with.
Elizabeth had demanded to know what he'd been planning, echoed by Francis herself, asking how he could do something so reckless, and he'd said it wasn't recklessness, it was a carefully thought-out and rationalized choice, and that had just caused more issues.
Eventually, things settled down, but he couldn't shake the dual looks that both Francis and Alexis (when he'd returned) had taken to giving him after the admittance. Nor could he shake Elizabeth clinging to his side, unwilling to let him out of her sight, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders to match his own (as much for shock as it was for warmth, he imagined), and looking stupidly more upset by his confession than by the actual ordeal she'd just been through.
"No wonder you and your butler were so beat-up," Edward muttered at one point, and received a clipped warning of his name from his mother. "What?" he said, gesturing at Ciel. "It's not exactly a secret that the two of them are the worst-off looking survivors on the ship."
Ciel didn't say anything. It was true. The twinge of pain in his now wrapped ankle only testified to Edward's point. The state of Ciel's clothes alongside it made the rest of it for him.
Alexis gave Edward a silent look of admonishment and his cousin quieted. But not before a final observation.
"If you take the rest of the family, I reckon we make up over 75% of all the injuries or dishevelment of the rescued passengers. And I don't even have any injuries…" he added under his breath.
"As we should take the brunt," Francis snapped. "As knights, it is our duty--"
Ciel tuned out the rest of her scolding. He didn't need a reminder of status and duty to do the right thing--it wasn't why he'd done what he'd done. Nor did he want the reminder of the state of the survivors, not when he'd spent the past hour of settling down trying to avoid commiserating with his fellow shipmates; if he compared himself to those tragically traumatized rich nobles around him being confronted with perhaps the first hardship of their lives, he might throw away his entire Earldom in the ocean along with the bodies of those who weren't lucky enough to see the surface again, and he had worked hard to attain that.
Silence fell again, and a cold breeze off the ocean hit him, hard. He shivered under his blanket, clutching it to his chest, and though he knew it was irrational, or had been a symptom of the consequences of extreme cold he shouldn’t have been in, he thought he'd felt somehow warmer with Sebastian's wet coat around his shoulders; was more comforted by the demon's bloody visage at his side.
But he didn't need to think about that too hard.
He caught his aunt staring at him again, and this time, whatever was warring for dominance in her expression won out, and she broached a question--the question, he'd wager.
"How did you survive?"
She didn't need to elaborate. She didn't need to explain whether she meant the entirety of the night, or simply the aftermath in the lifeboat. She didn't need to differentiate between the deadly consequences of the corpses themselves or the terrible and vast watery deathtrap that still waited beneath them, rocking the rescue ship like a taunt. After all, the answer was much the same, no matter what. The one she was already expecting.
"Sebastian saved me."
He saw through the corner of his eye Francis and Alexis trade looks, and for a moment he thought he could see exactly what rested beneath the surface--some combination of respect, and latent worry. And when they looked back at him in unison--maybe just relief.
It wasn't even noon yet when Sebastian rejoined them, nearly giving his aunt a heart attack. He announced his presence just on the outside of their little cluster of family--things were still being moved around on the rescue ship, room still being made for the survivors, and most of those that knew each other and had reunited onboard were sitting in little groups on the deck as out of the way of the crew as possible. Theirs happened to be somewhat near the railing, and Ciel made it a pointed priority to not look overboard. Not difficult when Elizabeth was sitting on that side of him.
"You shouldn't sneak up on others like that," his aunt said sternly, with a hand over her chest that spoke of a deeper anxiety than just being startled--they were all still a little on edge, despite the attempts at relaxation after everything.
"My apologies, my lady," the servant apologized, with an answering hand over his chest. Ciel noticed he barely leaned forward this time with the motion.
Some part of Ciel had expected his butler to have returned with every hair perfectly in place (or out of place, as Francis would say), his clothes magically fresh and new, smiling and pouring tea he'd obtained from somewhere, but that wasn't the case. Though he looked notably better--there was no longer gore in his clothing and hair, and his skin was clearly washed free of most dirt and blood--the remains of his suit stayed ripped and stained (possibly totally unsalvagable at this point if even Sebastian couldn't fix them), and all that the cleaning had done was reveal how much of the blood had been his, how many bruises and wounds were underneath the dirt and grime. There was a particular line of purplish-red marks that caught Ciel's eye, tracing the edges of the demon's cheekbones, falling from the corner of his eye to the edges of his mouth, and back down around his chin. It looked painful.
He also had a blanket wrapped around his own shoulders that nearly made Ciel do a double take at how strange it looked on Sebastian, despite the fact almost every other person on the deck had one, as well as the fact that he actually appeared to be clutching it around himself. Even as the pieces he held closest became predictably stained by his still drying midriff. Ciel wondered, vaguely, if he had only taken it in an attempt to shield the rest of the mess that was his abdomen, or if he actually did appreciate the cover.
Either way--he looked tired. He looked shockingly human, and vulnerable.
"Shouldn't you still be with the doctor?" Alexis questioned with a clear look of concern on his aged face. He took in Sebastian's form from head to toe, and though even he couldn't deny that the servant looked better, he still seemed doubtful of Sebastian's ability to remain on his own two feet. Francis's slightly dubious look and Elizabeth's bitten lip accompanied the onceover, and Ciel felt much the same as all of it.
"The doctor was kind enough to release me from treatment," Sebastian said politely. Ciel could read inbetween the lines (specifically, the ones inbetween Sebastian's eyebrows) and guess at how long the butler had been trying to get free without looking like he was trying to escape. It almost made him smile.
Alexis looked like he wanted to argue, but with Sebastian continuing to stand upright on his own, and with the apparent doctor's blessing, he couldn't argue. He made a gesture at Edward to make room for Sebastian between himself and Snake, but Ciel beat him to it, scooting closer to Elizabeth with an unspoken command or perhaps invitation.
Sebastian followed it without a word, sitting on Ciel's other side silently. With some difficulty that he was obviously trying to cover up, but maybe that was really only obvious to Ciel. But he managed to sit without apparently injuring himself further, letting out a quiet, forceful exhale as his back hit the metal wall that was behind him--and Ciel and Lizzy, where they sat in the same line to his right. This close, he could notice the minute trembles coming from the man--exhaustion or cold? Sebastian was in the freezing water longer than him, of course, and it wasn't like it could kill him--but could it actually affect his body like a human's? Before today, Ciel didn't think he'd believe the answer could be yes, but...
Ciel tried not to inch closer, and Lizzy had her arm wrapped around his so it wasn't like he could move much without being obvious anyway, but couldn't resist nudging his leg over the slightest to feel the butler's press against his, and he felt the tiniest, invisible, answering push.
He didn't look up at Sebastian's face--didn't think he would smile so obviously or openly at such a thing, didn't want to see the bruises and cuts marring his usual flawless facade--but he did breathe a little easier.
And then there they were. All of their group, safe and sound, rescued and bandaged and once again reunited. The four Midfords, and the (singular) Phantomhive, and his two servants.
Conversation petered in slowly, starting with Alexis asking Sebastian how he was, and getting the (glanced over) details of his treatment--a bandaged torso, ointment for lacerations, and a pain medication that Ciel was certain did absolutely nothing useful for the demon, if the overly enunciated and sarcastic (but again, only to his ears) mention of the thing proved anything.
Topics around him began and changed and were thrown over his head as the sun continued to rise across the sky--usually they'd have some sort of shade on luxury ship for that, but they were not on a luxury ship any longer, and the rays of approaching noon began to warm and dry him quicker than anything else. Lizzy relaxed again and demanded his attention via small but harmless and distracting chitchat. He saw Edward grow bored as the minutes passed on and he pestered Snake into an actual conversation--it was amusing to see the noble boy's reactions to Snake's strange but now familiar method of communication, and learn to accept and manage it (much as he seemed to hate snakes, also to Ciel's amusement.) And Alexis even struck up a discussion with Sebastian, about the rescue ship and the crew and their intended destination and time of arrival, and all sorts of polite, boring things that interested Alexis and were still appropriate and not uncomfortable for a servant to respond to.
Still, Ciel almost felt the need to save his butler during a lull in his own chat with Lizzy about plans for upcoming Summer events and fashions wherein he overheard his uncle trying to unironically discuss the weather of all things. He looked over at Sebastian at that, seeing his slightly forced cheer and overenthusiastic tone, and resisted the urge to smile.
Then he accidentally caught Francis's gaze from Alexis's side, and the knowing, barely repressed look of humor in her eyes, and then he didn't resist anymore.
He laughed.