Disclaimer: This story is intended for mature audiences only because of the dark subject matter and themes of shota.

"I had that dream again last night."

"The dream where your parents died?"

"Yes, it was horrific – they were already dead and I could just see their faces as the fire consumed them."

"Did you see their faces in real life, before you were, um, taken?"

"Yes. Only for a moment though."

"Then you were taken?"

"Yes."

"Ciel, we have been seeing each other for a year now and that event happened four years ago but do you think you're ready to discuss it fully now?"

"Not yet, I'm just not ready yet."

…

With the psychotherapy session complete, Dr. Sebastian Michaelis did what he always did at the end – he typed up his notes. That was his last patient for the evening and he was getting ready to wind down for the night. Taking his laptop out of the bottom drawer of his mahogany desk and sliding it over the top, he completes his papers with his quick, short hand scrawling and lays them out on the desk.

He flicks open his laptop and opens his files. Scrolling down, he clicks, unlocks, opens a file and begins to type out his notes.

Ciel Phantomhive, age 13.

Ciel still exhibits signs of severe Post Traumatic Stress with regards to his past. Currently, he continues to have the same dream as he has had since the incident. His house has been set on fire; his parents have already been killed and he watches them being consumed by flames.

I believe the original incident happened when he was aged 10. As he doesn't volunteer any actual information on that event, I have had to do some research on him and the Phantomhive family. Nothing conclusive has come up thus far, only that the murderers have yet to be captured and that the boy was the victim of an underground human trafficking ring.

"How curious." The doctor sighs aloud as he thinks for a moment. Even with the knowledge gained from his additional research, he knew that he couldn't bring it up in session as he didn't want the child to regress any further than he had. Looking down at his notes and examining them, he tries to find any correlation between his research and what is mentioned in the sessions but there isn't anything, which leaves the therapist slightly irked.

I have been treating Ciel weekly for a year now and he always quickly negates any positive gains made, as though he catches onto my methods of trying to get him to open up and to heal. He presents as someone who is emotionally callous, detached, and very distrustful of others – including me, especially me. However, judging by the intelligent tests provided and after sitting with him for a year, I have found him to be gifted and highly intelligent – I wouldn't put it past him to try and gaslight me with each new method I try. I often wonder why he even bothers to see me each week, especially considering the fact that his Aunt constantly tells me that she has to drag the boy to each session.

Now that I think about it, I have yet to ask him about his relationship to his Aunt, who is his current guardian but I can sense whenever she brings him into the office or collects him that their relationship is quite terse. This is something I will have to explore at a later time, as all I can do at present is watch and observe.

The doctor stops typing for a moment as he scrolls over his previous notes on Ciel. Feeling satisfied with his work for the evening, he saves his new document and flicks through the other files. Clicking on another folder, he flicks through the various documents and saved images.

"What can I do to get him to open up to me?" He thinks aloud to himself as he begins to open another folder called 'articles' but his cell phone ringing out in his top right desk drawer interrupts him.

He reads the caller ID, it is his wife, Angela and he quickly answers it.

"Hello darling, I'm sorry, I'm still at work."

'How long will you be in the office for?'

"Oh, not long, I'm just logging off now." He sighs. He might as well sign off and head home for the night.

'That's good, I'll have tea ready for you when you return.' She replies. He can't see her face but he knows by her tone that she is relieved to know that he will be coming straight home this evening. 'I love you Sebastian.'

"I love you too Angie. I'll be home soon." He hangs up the phone.

He saves any work outstanding on his laptop and shuts it down. He gathers all of the notes he made from his session with Ciel and tidies them up, tapping them on the desk to straighten and align them and puts them on top of his laptop. He slips the chrome rectangle, along with the papers, into his book bag and folds over the top to secure the items in the bag.

Sebastian walks over to the closet by the wall length black bookshelf. Opening the doors, he pulls out a long black trench coat off of the hanger and slips it over his arms and onto his shoulders. Admiring himself in the mirror attached behind the door, he straightens out the collar of his white dress shirt, realigns the navy and white stripped silk tie that was knotted around his neck and smoothes his black cardigan, a ritual he performs everyday before he buttons his trench coat. Feeling satisfied with his appearance, Sebastian closes the door to his closet.

He walks over to the window to perform another ritual. He slides his thin fingers over the edges of the heavy fabric to draw the curtains but before he does, he looks out to ascertain what the weather will be like when he sets foot outside the main doors of the building, especially as he decided to take the Tube into work this morning. Clear sky in the middle of December – it's going to be chilly. He pops his collar up and runs his fingers through his inky black hair before he draws the curtains, shutting out the outside world.

Going back over to his desk, he picks up his book bag and his phone. He presses the screen to see the time illuminate – did he have enough time to – no, he told Angela he'd be straight home tonight. This was something Sebastian was good at, almost known for like a badge of honor, telling the truth – he never lied. He would on occasion be economical with it if he had to but he was honest. He also remembered how she sounded, that sense of relief, he couldn't bring himself to disappoint her tonight – so he won't.

Pocketing his phone and slipping the strap of his book bag over his shoulder, Sebastian heads for the door. Turning out the lights, he exits.

…

He makes his way outside - he was right to pull up his collar, it was in fact very cold for a December's night in London and he can see the condensation from his warm breath as he exhales. He follows his usual route back to the Bermondsey Tube station for the Jubilee Line home, going through the empty streets and darting past the full trendy bars and traditional pubs that were scattered throughout.

As he heads towards the station, he can't help but feel something, a suspicion, something he has felt every day for the last few months. It was an awkward feeling, uncomfortable and threatening. His teeth chatter in the cold and he picks up his pace. For a therapist to feel paranoid for no reason, well, what would kind of faith would that install in his patients?

Still, this time, he feels it, his heart races and pounds blood into his ears and his breath quickens – he feels the anxiousness as it starts to take over him. He stops dead in his tracks and looks around – no one, there is no one around – then again, there never is. Sebastian figures that he must do this on a nightly basis now, it is almost as though the motions have wormed their way into his evening routine.

He types his notes, he packs his bags, he goes to the closet to straighten out his appearance, he goes to the window, looks outside then closes the curtains – finally allowing himself to leave the building. Now, he's added this stop and this look around – which he does, but again, there is never anyone there.

Sebastian sighs and puts the base of his palm to his head as he chuckles. He was being silly, of course he was, he was being silly and he needed to get over himself. Steadying his heart and his breath, he resumes walking to the Underground station, and he now sees the bright illuminated Underground sign within close proximity. Reaching into his trench coat pocket, he pulls out his Oyster card in its holder and goes inside the station. As he approaches the barrier and before he swipes his card, he takes one more look around – no one. He runs the card in its holder over the yellow pad and the barriers open, allowing him to pass through, and he makes his way down to the platform.

As he leaves the ticket hall, a boy walks into the station. He leans against the ticket machines. He had watched the whole scenario unfold.

"This is different, you're going straight home today." He mutters to himself quietly.

He folds his arms across his small chest as he looks up at the indicator board to see if Sebastians' train had left and it had. That mere piece of information causes the young boy to smile as he pushes himself off of the machines and straightens up.

"Master Ciel, you shouldn't go off like that." A gruff man with a bristly chin approaches him. He is a blond man in a chauffeur uniform, complete with patent black boots that cover his trousers up to his knees. Ciel casts his eye over him, he is annoyed that he has been followed but tries to stifle it and instead, flashes him a bright smile.

"I'm sorry Bard, I just had to see something quickly. Come on, let's go home." He motions for the chauffeur to follow him out of the station and back to the town car that is waiting outside.

Authors' Note: I am reposting this story after I deleted it. My bad...