This was written as an attempt to not have a smutty, but a simple girl and boy ust relationship, to explore Mey-Rin's past, to explain how and why she views Sebastian the way she does. I always imagine she is so happy to be a maid since her past was something terrible. And this story has it's terrible parts. And so much ust and so much lemon, I should put a label on it. This story began as a "what if she was dead… but wasn't" kind of moment, and it spiraled. Enjoy the adventure into Mey-Rin's past, present, and future.

And a fitting way to ring in a New Year!

There was very little about her previous life she cared to remember. But she remembered it all, nonetheless. It was a blessing and a curse, her perfect memory for faces and places. Now, as she slipped between the two row houses, she cringed; it was more than three years ago and she had done the same, except a lot more excited then she felt now. Now, her mission was not really a mission, rather a chore. She was picking up her rifle that had been damaged in the last fire fight at the Phantomhive Manor. In that time her employment situation had also changed. Drastically.

"Mey? Dear, child… is that you, Mey?"

Mey-Rin cursed under her breath as the bell above the door tinkled, and she turned, looking beside the shack she was entering. Damn, George Havis. The moment that she looked at him a flash sizzled in her mind.

"George," she answered cooly, as if nothing mattered, nothing at all. "Life treating you fine?"

"Ha, well now it is. Common, baby, a bit of loving for me? For old times sake - make sure you are still alive and I am not in heaven, yet." He staggered a bit, awe and wonder on his face, his eyes hungry for something entirely else.

She shook her head and turned to look at the sliver of light she was letting into the gun smith store. "I don't think so George. I'm rather in a hurry."

"Ah, well, maybe you can come back and take those fine clothes off and we can revisit those quick moments you enjoyed so much."

Mey-Rin pegged him with a cool stare. "No, George, I don't think so. I am much better than that now."

"Ho, ho, ho! A real working lass now," he said, ambling closer to her. She shut her eyes for a moment and calculated how much she could get away with and be still back for the coach Sebastian was sitting atop, parked down the road. He didn't know she had slipped out the door when her new young master had left for his errand.

"George, I need to go and get my rifle, and if you are still here…"

"You wouldn't put a cap in me," he snarled, now almost in her space. He placed a hand on the door and yanked it shut. "You wouldn't want to mess me up, to not be able to give it to you rough and steady." He pushed her against the wall and drank her in like she was the meat her body used to be for most of the men in this part of London. There was very little she cared to remember about her previous life. "I can be quick, but you, Mey, have been gone a while. My body needs a bit of that tender flesh around it. I need a bit of that feisty life you always had ready to give me. Alive and well, you are, alive and well."

"I highly suggest you go down to the docks where the prostitutes are plying their trade, then, sir."

Mey-Rin turned her head, back toward the door to the smithers. She cringed; Sebastian had found her. How much had he heard? How did he know she was not sitting in the carriage?

"Mey-Rin, please proceed to your destination. The man and I will handle this situation."

"Yes, Mister Sebastian," she muttered and ducked under George's arm and hurried into the darkened room. She held her breath and listened as George yelled at Sebastian to leave his "beautiful young thing" out of his business. She imagined Sebastian was calmly examining him, his cool eyes missing next to nothing. Like she did when she was defending the Manor. Her hands flew to her head; her heavy glasses were in her hair!

"Ma'am?"

Mey-Rin snapped back and saw a young man standing by the counter, a bolt in his hands and a cleaning cloth in the other. She took a deep breath and felt the calmness wash over her. Gun, ammo, grease, powder, explosives, and the tanginess of freshly fired bullets, all filled her mouth and lungs.

"I am here to pick up a rifle that was dropped off a week ago. Phantomhive," she said. She started as the wall behind her shook a bit and she turned, seeing in the dirty window Sebastian and George having their hands around each others collars. "Oh dear," she said, turning to watch.

"If that is your crew, ma'am, I'd advise you not to bring the weapon out of this home."

She turned back and tried to nod, another slam of the wall making her squeak. "Is there a back door? I know these alleys like the back of my hand. My… my driver, he knows to follow me in a few moments," she said a bit louder. She hoped what she said was true. Sebastian had a unique habit of being where he was needed most. Now, she needed him back in the carriage as soon as she got there.

She paid for the rifle, and clutched it as the young man lead her back to another door. "Be careful, miss."

And she found herself in the alley, and alone. She looked up and squinted, the tall row houses blocking out the sun a bit, and she turned and quickly walked back to the main street, hoping that Sebastian was alright and George, well, she didn't think of George beyond that he was a piece of her past she would be glad to not see in another three years, or more.

"May I carry that package?"

She yelped at the smooth voice of Sebastian coming beside her. She turned and saw him perfectly. His face was a bit smeared with dirt, accenting his high cheekbones, and there was a bit of dirt on his collar. She yanked her glasses from her head and pushed them roughly on her nose, wincing at the all to heavy metal frame that pinched her nose, making breathing and talking difficult.

"If you wish," she squeaked.

She next felt a guiding hand on her back, making sure she did not collide into anything. She felt like a small child being led, but the person who led her was not just anyone, it was the Head Butler to the Phantomhive family, her young master being the only member. She pulled her thoughts away from the heat on her back and the gentle pressure it gave to steer her around objects that she barely saw. It was pleasant, and she filed it away. These moments too were remembered, these were the heated moments of her current situation she wished to have. If only she could have only them. If only they could erase the past ones.

She squeaked when Sebastian's outline stepped in front of her a bit and made her bump into his arm. The sound of quick horse hooves and a rattling carriage wheel made her grip his arm tightly, as if it was coming for her. This part of London was not nice to people who dressed in as fine clothes as she and Sebastian were in.

"I'm sorry, Mister Sebastian," she said prying her hands off his arm. "It just frightened me when you… and the horses. I'm so sorry!"

"No need to apologize, Mey-Rin. It is I who should have paid closer attention. Please forgive me, I was thinking of other things and not your safety. I am at fault."

"But you did think of my safety," she insisted as they crossed the road. She looked up and saw nothing but the black coat of his uniform and his dark hair against the sky. "You almost got run over because of me."

"But I didn't."

She fell silent and climbed back into the carriage. He handed her her package and she watched for a moment as he hesitated, like he wanted to say more, before closing the door. He leaned into the windowless carriage and said, "Please, one thing, if I may."

"Yes, Mister Sebastian?" she said, unsure what he wanted.

"If you have an errand in this part of town, please let me accompany you."

All she could do was nod. He did not request that she leave the task to him. He had said he would go with her. He trusted her abilities to keep herself safe. As she felt the sure weight of him sitting into the drivers box, she slipped her glasses off and leaned back into the cushions.

Her life before was nothing to dwell over, but her mind briefly flickered to George. If he was still alive, and was able, he would tell the former network, whatever remained of it, that she had been spotted.

She had been released from the sure grips of the executioner.

She was alive.

She stuffed her hand into her mouth as she gave a small cry of fear, the realization of everything that she had built, had been built for her, would be torn apart if she was not careful. She wasn't careful - she had talked to George. She had dropped her rifle off at an old smither whose father had helped her when she was still a lone wolf, working with men who took her as a lamb. The part of town she had gone into was full of men who had gladly turned their back on her as soon as they had their fill of her body. Of her unique ability. Not one had stood up for her. And when she was about to die… she shook her head. It was in the past. Not too distant anymore, she bitterly reminded herself.

And she wiped her tears away, replacing her glasses as the carriage stopped to pick up her young master. Now, they could come after her new life.

She gripped the repaired rifle. She watched as her young master slid into the seat opposite her. She glanced out the door, seeing the shape of Sebastian.

She would break it over any man's head who dared to come near her new life.

The new life she wished she could erase the old one with.