Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dr. Bartholomew Woodward had found himself in quite an unfortunate situation. He stood in the foyer of a rich and beautiful London townhouse, his black jacket taken away by a smiling Indian man, who was quickly replaced by an imposing, equally black-jacketed figure.

By his dress, he was clearly a butler of some sort, probably his patient’s, judging by how perfectly dressed he was; there wasn’t a single speck of dust on his sleeves, and his suit was so perfectly pressed that it had no wrinkles in sight. He was undoubtedly over 6 feet tall, significantly different from the doctor’s 5 foot 5 inch person.

Dr. Woodward took a moment to examine the man’s face and was surprised at what he saw there.

He was smiling, but it did not reach his eyes, which were an odd shade of red. Dr. Woodward blamed the lighting for the color — his eyes were probably light brown, and the candles played tricks on him. The man’s jet-black hair was neatly combed and half-parted at the crown of his head, some strands falling neatly to the side to frame the porcelain white face.

The man made a soft “ahem” that had Dr. Woodward snapping back to reality.

The man’s head was cocked to the side, and he was still smiling, though now it had an edge to it.

“Ah,” Dr. Woodward said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I apologize. I do get so distracted by other people’s faces—I find them endlessly fascinating.”

The man’s expression tightened in annoyance.

“I beg your pardon, Doctor, but I hope you will not be distracted when caring for my young master.”

Dr. Woodward cleared his throat. Those words posed a threat, and he was unwilling to ignore them. He was beginning to understand why the other physicians in London refused to come to this place; he had a significant feeling he was in danger.

So he smiled at the man, holding his hand out for the other to shake.

“I’m Dr. Bartholomew Woodward,” he said. “I was called here to take care of the Earl Phantomhive.”

“I am Sebastian Michaelis,” the other man said, taking Dr. Woodward’s hand in a perfectly white glove and shaking it hard enough to nearly break a few fingers. “I am the Phantomhive family’s butler. There are a few other servants and guests in the home, but please ignore them.” He grimaced. “They are a bit. . . much.”

Dr. Woodward laughed, but his mouth snapped shut when Sebastian glared at him.

“I am not joking,” he said. “I do not joke, jest, nor lie.”

Dr. Woodward nodded, dumbfounded, then silently followed the butler up the carpeted stairs and down what seemed like an endless hallway.

After a few long minutes, Dr. Woodward managed to speak.

“May I ask, Sebastian, why I’m seeing the Earl Phantomive? I specialize in children's medicine and haven’t cared for adults in many years. I fear I might not do the Earl justice.”

Sebastian smirked over his shoulder before reaching the last room at the end of the hall and motioning for the doctor to enter.

The moment Dr. Woodward stepped into the room, his jaw nearly dropped. It wasn’t because of the elaborate decor or the expensive accessories but of the child curled up in a king-sized bed. He was almost buried underneath the coverlet, only the top of his head indicating he was there.

Dr. Woodward made to rush forward, alarmed, but Sebastian grabbed his arm before he could take another step. The doctor tried to wrench himself free, but Sebastian’s grip only tightened.

Then, the butler simply shook his head, much to Dr. Woodward’s shock.

“You mustn’t be rash, Doctor.”

Dr. Woodward’s eyes widened, and his head snapped to the boy behind him, who had begun to shiver—a sure sign of a fever.

“Rash?” he demanded angrily. “That child is clearly very ill! I must care for him!”

Sebastian dipped his head in acknowledgment.

“I understand,” he said, “but the Young Master is a very. . . nervous person. He is not a very social person, you understand. He is very wary of strangers, least of all ones in his home. As his butler, it is my duty to introduce you to him in the least traumatic way possible.”

Dr. Woodward was silent for a moment before he nodded. With a pleased little smile, Sebastian finally released the doctor’s arm before stepping around him and walking to the side of the enormous bed.

“Young Master,” the butler said, his voice calm in the dimly lit room. Dr. Woodward did not fail to notice that he was careful not to touch the child. “Young Master, I have someone to introduce to you. Can you wake up so you may meet him?”

The child groaned under the blankets but turned himself to face Sebastian. He didn’t say anything, but Sebastian must have noticed some acknowledgment because he motioned the doctor forward.

Dr. Woodward rushed to stand next to Sebastian, careful to stay a safe distance away, but his heart sped up when he saw the child’s face.

He was so small, white cheeks flushed with fever, and, oddly, there was a medical eyepatch covering his right eye. He had long eyelashes, a button nose, and a small mouth to match. His face was scrunched in pain, and the doctor watched worriedly as the boy struggled to open his visible eye. However, he managed it after a few long moments, and it was such a bright blue that the doctor nearly gasped. However, the color of his eye was only a momentary gap in the doctor’s examination of his patient’s small face before he continued. The eye was fever bright — which may have contributed to the bright color — and it roved aimlessly, struggling to focus.

The butler, sensing the Earl’s distress, knelt beside the bed and took a small hand in his own.

“Young Master, it’s all right,” he said, and the boy’s eye seemed to focus for just a moment. “This is the doctor; he’s come to care for you.”

The boy whimpered, but Sebastian squeezed his hand.

“There’s no need to worry, Young Master. He’s been thoroughly vetted. You’re safe.”

Thoroughly vetted? What the hell?

However, the child visibly relaxed at these words, and Sebastian motioned the doctor to kneel next to him at the side of the bed. The doctor did so but was careful not to touch the boy. Though he seemed more relaxed than before, the boy was still agitated.

Dr. Woodward smiled.

“Hello, Earl Phantomhive,” he greeted. “My name is Dr. Bartholomew Woodward.”

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Chapter Text

Ciel had been curled up in bed for what felt like days, hours, moments, or years — he honestly couldn’t tell anymore. All sense of time had been lost to him; even the change of the light outside the window wasn’t helping. All he knew was pain.

It radiated all over his body, so strong Ciel couldn’t even place where it originated from. It wasn’t as severe when he was lying down and staying still, knees to his chest, hands wrapped around his knees to keep himself from moving. So Ciel stayed that way, refusing to move; even the promise of a sip of water or broth did not entice him to move a single inch. Only Sebastian’s firm tone was enough for him to move — and then only barely.

When he heard footsteps enter his room, he wiggled deeper under the covers, biting his lip to keep from whimpering. After all, he was the Earl of Phantomhive, and the Earl would never stoop so low as to whimper.

It took him a few moments longer to realize there were two sets of footsteps; Ciel recognized Sebastian instantly, but the other was unfamiliar. He figured it was Soma, who had not been allowed in the room for quite some time, but the gait was stronger and more hesitant than Soma’s could possibly be.

He bit back another whimper, this one far more pitiable. He hated doctors— Sebastian knew that — so he must be sick enough for the demon to call for one.

He let the world fade around him for a few minutes, hoping the doctor and Sebastian wouldn’t bother him, but no such luck — he heard Sebastian asking him to face him, and Ciel rolled over with a groan, irritated the demon made him move.

“Young Master,” the butler said, his voice calm in the dimly lit room. Where did the lights come from? It had been dark only an hour ago; Ciel was almost sure of that, despite the fact he was hidden under blankets. For some irritating reason, Sebastian kept talking. “Young Master, I have someone to introduce to you. Can you wake up so you may meet him?”

Ugh, how annoying.

He flicked a few fingers at Sebastian under the covers to indicate agreement, which the demon would surely notice, even if the doctor wouldn’t. Sebastian, sure enough, motioned the doctor forward, and Ciel heard the sound of footsteps on the carpet even as Sebastian pulled the covers away from his face a margin.

Ciel opened his eye to see the doctor standing next to Sebastian. He was significantly shorter than Sebastian, with chestnut-colored hair, small but round glasses like Mey-Rin’s, and a slight physique. Ciel couldn’t see much of his face besides the glasses and could barely make out what the doctor was wearing, but he could see the medical bag in the man’s hand.

It was then that Ciel, much to his horror, whimpered. Sebastian swiftly knelt beside the bed and took his hand, saying something Ciel wasn’t listening to but calmed him down. Ciel whimpered again, weakly squeezing Sebastian’s hand, and relaxed when the butler confirmed that the doctor had passed all their vetting processes.

Sebastian waved a hand at the doctor, who came and knelt next to the butler with a friendly smile. He introduced himself, but Ciel barely registered it. He merely closed his eye, hoping everyone would leave him alone.

No such luck.

The doctor continued to speak, and Ciel noticed that he wasn’t touched by the doctor, which was nice.

“Earl Phantomhive,” the doctor said, “may I call you by your first name? I usually call all my patients by their first names.”

Ciel hesitated before tapping on Sebastian’s hand. It was too much effort to speak, and his head hurt too much to nod.

“He agreed,” Sebastian said to the doctor. “His name is Ciel.”

“Well, thank you, Ciel,” the doctor said. Ciel could hear the smile in his voice. “Do you think you can open your eye for me?”

A quick “no” on Sebastian’s palm, which the butler delivered to the doctor. Ciel wished he could remember the doctor’s name; it irritated him that he couldn’t keep track of that.

This time, Ciel could hear that the smile had changed to worry in the doctor’s voice. He heard the doctor move a little closer to him, and he tensed, grip tightening on Sebastian’s fingers. He would usually be mortified to seek comfort from the demon, but he felt too horrible to care.

“Ciel,” the doctor said in an unbearably gentle voice, “can you talk to me? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Sure you won’t, Ciel thought, but sighed, ignoring the pain in his throat.

“Hello,” he croaked, still not opening his eye.

The doctor seemed thrilled by this single acknowledgment, which Ciel found odd.

“Good, good. Good job, Ciel,” he praised, but Ciel was still confused by the doctor’s happiness, so he chose to ignore the words.

“Just a few more questions, Ciel,” the doctor said, “and then you can go back to sleep.”

Ciel groaned, turning to bury his face in the pillow. He whined and swatted in protest when Sebastian moved him back to his original position.

“Young Master,” Sebastian said, “please behave.”

Ciel’s face twisted in annoyance. Damn demon, telling me what to do! He made to move away from Sebastian and retreat into the pillows again, but the doctor’s voice surprised him.

“It’s all right, Mr. Sebastian,” he said. “No one behaves when ill; it’s unsurprising.”

“Ah,” Sebastian replied, and Ciel was surprised to hear the slight surprise in his voice.

“Ciel,” the doctor said, attention returning to the Earl. “How old are you?”

Ciel licked his lips before answering.

“Th-Thirteen.”

Ciel froze, mortified. Had he really just stammered? Like a goddamned child? Without noticing, his hand clutched Sebastian’s fingers in a vice-like grip.

“Ciel—” the doctor began, but Sebastian swiftly cut him off.

“I think that’s enough for now, Dr. Woodward,” he said, peeling Ciel’s fingers from his hand and tucking him back under the covers. Ciel sighed in relief, relaxing as much as he could, and ignored the doctor and Sebastian speaking around him. After a few minutes, his vision went black, and he fell into a restless sleep.

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