Chapter Text
Three weeks had passed since Alan and the others fled London. Eric had no idea where they went, and he had no intention of finding out. The less he knew, the better off they all were. He called Alan each week to check in on him and he had some connections that allowed him to get his prescription medications to send to him without Dispatch tracing it. The process of getting the medication to him without an address was complicated, but it worked. Eric dropped a care package off at a different post office in mortal London each week, where an unknown associate of Alan’s would come to retrieve it and send it off to wherever he was. Within these packages, the Scotsman always included currency—which could be easily exchanged for mortal money in various worldwide locations in the Shinigami realm. He also included some sort of small gift, a love letter and of course, any med refills Alan required.
In addition to these precautions, he began to purchase a new temporary phone each week, with which to contact Alan and further lessen the risk of him being traced. He always let Alan know which number he would be calling from whenever he did this, before destroying the old one. They had begun subjecting him and other remaining agents from the old Dispatch to random lie detector tests. The questions sometimes varied, but he never knew when he’d have to take another test so he had to be especially careful.
"Have you had contact with Alan Humphries since he vanished?"
The answer was always “no”; and it was the truth, because they never specified what kind of contact. He hadn’t had any physical contact with his partner since he left reaper London, and that was always the meaning he kept in mind when answering that question.
"What of the other missing agents: Spears, Knox and Jeffries?"
Again, the answer was a truthful “no”, because he’d had no contact of any kind with any of them since they were officially declared missing. Fortunately, that official pronouncement didn’t occur until after he crossed paths with Ronnie that day in London.
"Are you loyal to our cause, Officer Slingby?"
That one was a bit tricky, and the readings always came out ambiguous, like his response. “I’m loyal tae mah partner. Ye’ve go’ a cure fer his illness, so that makes me loyal tae ye as well…even if I dun’ like wha’ yer doing.”
And he’d never failed to complete an assignment given to him, no matter how distasteful. Seeing as his results were irrefutable, they couldn’t hold that answer against him.
There were always questions of a more personal nature, of course. They’d ask if he loved Alan Humphries, and he’d look them in the eye, smirk, and tell them he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t. They’d ask if he and his partner had been in a relationship, and he told them they weren’t—which was again true, because the relationship didn’t occur until after Alan disappeared.
It was irksome and tiring, but he endured it, passing each test they put him through but failing to completely douse their suspicions of where his loyalties truly lay. They couldn’t argue his willingness to work with them; he’d already committed plenty of sins for the sake of saving Alan from the Thorns. He wasn’t trusted yet, though. They were right not to trust him. He was keeping tabs on Professor Daniels’ comings and goings, slowly formulating a plan to bring the man to Alan and force him to perform his cure on him.
For that matter, Grell wasn’t doing all that fabulously with them, either. Fortunately for the redhead, he truly hadn’t seen or heard from the reapers he’d signed a contract to protect, so he didn’t need to lie even if he wanted to…but Grell had a mouth on him and he’d never been particularly in love with authority—unless it was in the bedroom. He’d earned himself demerits and overtime the last time he had to take a lie detector test, because all of his answers fairly dripped theatrical sarcasm that had the test conductor red in the face with anger by the end of it.
Eric was just thinking of these things on his way out of Headquarters to his latest assignment, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He’d have loved to be a fly on the wall for that one.
"So I see they subjected you to yet another loyalty test." Grell said to the approaching blond as he exited the testing room. His lip curled in disgust as he leaned against the wall of the long corridor on floor thirteen of the Shinigami Dispatch Association’s main building. His arms were crossed over his chest and he had one red, high-heeled foot pressed against the wall.
Today he was in an even more irritable mood than usual. The night before he had gotten little to no sleep. And once more, the new higher-ups had called early in the morning for him to report to headquarters. He was to receive new orders for a new top secret assignment. He figured more than likely it would turn out to be another typical assassination mission, since that seemed to be all he was ever given. The only exceptions, of course, were recruiting Undertaker and his own random lie detector testing.
He had been in no rush to get there. Deciding that if he was so important to their cause, they could wait until he was good and damned-well ready to show up. After all; he was not some dog that came the minute he was called. He was Grell Sutcliff. He was the blood lusting “Queen of Death”. Internally, he giggled at the title he had recently given himself.
"Let me guess, they asked yet again, if you were or had been intimate with Alan?"
Eric leaned against the wall across from him and nodded. “Aye, like always. Dun’ see how it’s relevant, but they always ask. I’m starting tae wonder if they get some sort o’ sick thrill out of diggin’ into our personal lives. Have they still been botherin’ ya about Spears?”
To his knowledge, they were putting the thumbscrews to Grell about William, just like they were doing to him with Alan. It was no secret that Grell had harbored an infatuation with Spears for long years, but it didn’t seem to be reciprocated. Eric never asked for details, figuring it was their personal business.
"Among a million other personal questions." Grell replied averting his gaze. "I have not spoken to Will since the day before he disappeared. Ronnie was never suppose to get involved. Not yet, at least."
He turned his head and looked back over at the blond and his foot began to tap against the wall. “I am beginning to think this was a bad idea. And today… never mind. I honestly have no idea who they want me to take out now. It’s just, I have just about had it with the way they are treating me. If I don’t turn Undertaker…”
Grell pushed away from the wall and walked over to Eric’s side. His eyes narrowing as he stared into Eric’s own two-toned, green eyes. “Do you honestly believe they have a cure for Alan?”
Eric nodded. “I’ve been shown tha proof. It’s solid. I jus’ have tae do mah part tae get it fer him…if I can ever get him back.”
He wanted to tell the redhead the truth…wanted to tell him that he’d orchestrated Alan’s disappearance because he couldn’t bear getting him involved. He wished he could confess everything to Grell, but even if he was sure he wouldn’t turn on him, this wasn’t the place to start sharing things. He kept the book closed, biding his time to be certain he could trust this volatile reaper before parting with his secrets.
Something else Grell had said piqued his curiosity. He wondered what sort of threat Grell might be operating under. It was a dangerous time for them all…a time that tested loyalty and trust for everyone. He couldn’t speak with him there, though. Too many ears and eyes. He checked his watch. “Come have lunch wi’ me. No’ here; I’m sick of cafeteria food. We could go tae tha’ bistro off 89th an’ get some fresh air. I’ll drive.”
Opening his mouth to protest, Grell held his tongue and glanced down the corridor, that he was suppose to be walking down at this very moment. But his anger peaked once more and his rebellious nature kicked in.
"I’d love to, Eric." the redhead answered turning his face back up to the blond’s and smiled. "I believe they can wait just a tad longer. After all; a lady does her best slaughtering on a full stomach."
He gave a little giggle, then turned around and linked his arm with Eric’s.
Once they were in his car, Eric sighed and looked at Grell. “Dunno if it was obvious, but I wanted tae talk away from pryin’ ears. Problem is, this whole situation has put us all in a situation where we cannae trust people…no’ even our old work associates. An’ let’s face it, ye an’ I were ne’er tha most ‘moral’ reapers, anyhow.”
He sighed, and he gazed into Grell’s eyes somberly. “Can I trust ya, Grell? Do ya think yeh can trust me? Right now, we’re all tha’s left of tha original team of senior officers, an’ we’re tha closest things tae allies either of us really has anymore. I suggested tha bistro, but I’m thinkin’ we’re best off picking up somethin’ tae go an’ eating in a quiet spot in a park, where we can talk wi’out others passing by an overhearing us.”
"Well that is an interesting question indeed…do I trust you?" Grell smirked as he relaxed into the comfortable seat of Eric’s car. He turned his head and looked out the window, peering up at the Dispatch’s main building. His cocky expression faded and turned pensive. Eric was correct; they were alone in this game. They were all each other had. Their team did not exist any longer and both of them had been in trouble numerous times. That was why, Grell figured, the reason they were selected in secret, to pull off the assassinations and recruiting assignments they had be given. They were ballsy and unafraid of getting dirty, especially when they both had things they stood to loose, if they refused. The ice they were standing on at any moment could break beneath them.
A chill washed over the redhead and he rubbed his arms. Goosebumps covered his exposed flesh as he thought of what might happen to either of them if they tried to leave. Trying to shake the uneasy feeling from his mind, Grell chuckled and looked over at the blond.
"As for your lunch idea…yes I quite agree. We cannot risk being over heard. Though I must say, darling, it rather sounds like you have something you are desperate to get off of your chest. Am I right, Eric?" He poked the blond in the cheek with the red-painted nail of his right index finger.
"I jus’ want tae clear th’ air an’ figure out where we stand wi’ each other," answered the Scotsman evasively as he buckled up and put the car into gear. He checked for traffic before pulling out of his parking spot. "There might be one ‘r two things I’d like tae talk about. Sounds like you’ve go’ somethin’ on yer mind as well."
He glanced at the redhead sidelong. “I’m curious tae hear wha’ they’ve been holdin’ o’er yer head concerning tha recruitment of Undertaker, but I’m no’ gonna press ya. Maybe we’ll both part wi’ some personal secrets by tha time we finish lunch. Let’s jus’ see how it goes.”
"I’m surprised you don’t already know the answer to that." Grell huffed. "It’s not like it is some big secret. I want William unharmed. To sweeten the deal, I requested that Ronnie not be harmed either. For that, I would do anything."
But that was not all of it, and Grell was not sure if he was ready to depart the rest of his secrets about his contract with the new powers at Dispatch. Grell looked down at his lap and fiddled with his seat belt. “Ronnie, he was not suppose to know of any of this. Not yet at any rate. I must admit, I am a tad angry with William for stumbling on that blasted list so soon.”
Eric smirked and turned out onto the street. “Spears has always been crafty, Grell. Ya know tha’ by now. They shoulda’ tried harder tae keep th’ list secure. Tha man might no’ be a ‘hacker’ per say, but he knows tha system an’ he’s jus’ anal enough tae keep at it when he finds somethin’ strange, ‘till he’s worked out wha’ it is.”
He pulled up to an oriental noodle drive-through that he knew Grell sometimes ordered from. “Ye cannae resent tha man fer being smarter than they gave him credit for.”
The person operating the drive through asked what they’d like, and Eric ordered the teriyaki beef combo, then asked what Grell would like.
"Oh, umm…the teriyaki chicken combo." Grell replied, looking over the menu as best he could. Grell preferred chicken over beef and typically went for meals of that nature whenever possible.
"I hope they are safe." he muttered under his breath as he looked ahead and out the front window.
Eric said nothing, but he considered Grell’s sincere concern and he began to feel a bit more secure about the possibility of telling him some of what he knew. He couldn’t give him a location even if he wanted to, but he was beginning to feel like he needed to at least let him know the two reapers he cared for the most were safe, as far as he knew. That could change at any moment between the last time he spoke with Alan and the next, but…
Eric sighed. “Aye, we definitely need tae talk.”
He wouldn’t tell Sutcliff exactly what was on his mind until they arrived at a small park and chose a picnic table to eat at, under the shade of a large oak. “A’right, here’s wha’ I know,” Eric said after having a bite of his noodle combo, “Spears an’ Knox are alive. They’re wi’ Alan an’ a few other agents tha’ managed tae get out before the hammer came down. I cannae tell ya where, because I dun’ know tha’ meself…but they’re alive and fer tha moment, they’re safe.”
Grell’s eyes widened and he nearly choked on a bite of chicken. “Eric Slingby, why didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I have been worried sick about them! My only hope had been that they had yet to appear on the death or detained list. How long have you known?”
Eric grimaced. “Since a little after Alan went MIA. Sorry Grell, but ye always made it seem like ya were goin’ along wi’ all this for personal gain, ‘cept yer concern for Spears an’ Knox. I needed tae feel ya out, before I said anythin’. I was jus’ trying tae protect everyone, an’ I hope I’m no’ making a mistake telling ya this much.”
He sighed and he looked off in the distance, the breeze stirring his wavy golden hair. “Ne’er thought I’d see tha day I’d have tae look at even mah closest allies wi’ suspicion. I want ye tae know it’s no’ personal, Grell. I always liked ye…jus’ dunno who I can trust anymore an’ I think it’s pretty obvious by now mah partner means everythin’ tae me. Couldn’t risk saying anything ‘till I felt confident it wouldnae compromise his safety. I hope ya understand tha’.”
"I can understand that. I do have my reasons for committing to all of this. Several in fact." Grell nodded as he began stirring his food. "I’m not doing all of this for Will and Ron. I have things to gain out of all of this as well. I just can’t tell you everything. At least not all of it, because some of it is selfish. Though, Will and Ron were my first concern. I have added to my contract, because of what they want me to do. And if I don’t play by their rules…I get none of it."
Frustrated and angry, Grell threw his chopsticks down and got up. He walked over to the rose garden and sat down on one of the many benches in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his waist and lowered his head, closing his eyes. The ribbon around his neck flapped quietly in the wind as the red and yellow roses behind him swayed.
Eric watched him, and he again felt that terrible guilt. He got up as well and he approached the smaller reaper, laying his hands over his shoulders in a gesture of comfort. “They’re alive, Grell. Safe, far as I can tell. All we need tae do ‘till we figure this out is our jobs. I…I dunno if I can ever look Alan in the eye again after wha’ I’ve done, but I cannae help from doing it…for him.”
He rubbed the tense shoulders solicitously. “Must be tha same fer you, I imagine.”
Grell looked up, his eyes watery from unshed tears. “We’re never going to see them again. Alan, Ronnie, William. We’re trapped. If I don’t keep doing what they say, the higher-ups, they are going to have me committed. I’ll become a test subject. You’re not crazy. They’d just execute you.”
Eric was breathless with that tidbit. He frowned at Grell, suspecting a joke at first…but the sincere dread in his eyes made him reconsider. “Holy bloody…Grell, I suspect I cannae bitch at ye fer keeping this from me. Shit…oh, fuckin’ hell…”
Eric took a few deep breaths, bowing his head for a moment. When he felt safe to speak with any wit at all, he put his hands on Grell’s arms gently. “we’re no’ gonna let tha’ happen, right? I need ya tae say it, Grell. Say they wun’ do tha’ to ye. Tha Grell I know wouldn’t allow it…right?”
"Why do you think I rebel whenever possible and I am demanding so much? If I have to be their bitch. I’ll at least act like one. I torture, maim whoever, no questions asked. I have to wash off all the blood every night. But I refuse to let them cage me like some freak they can tamper with. But I am scared, Eric. You haven’t been over to the facility since they took over. You haven’t seen what they have done. What they are planning." Grell’s brows pinched together and he frowned up at the blond. "Why do you think they want Alan so badly? And Undertaker?"
"Alan’s a good agent an’ if they get him under their thumbs, they’ll have me by the balls," admitted Eric with a frown. He examined a flower absently. "As fer Undertaker, I’m pretty sure they want tae recruit him ‘cause he can wake the dead, so tae speak. An army of undead would make it easier fer them tae take over internationally an’ keep any resistance in line."
He looked at Grell curiously. “Wha’ have ya seen that I haven’t, Grell? Wha’s got ya so spooked, and what’re they holding o’er yer head tae make ya so desperate to recruit th’ Undertaker?”
Grell shook his head. “I can’t say. I don’t know much. But those I have been sent after to collect, the ones not to be killed, they have all been unique in some way.”
He paused and swallowed. Then looked around making sure no other reapers were within earshot. “I think they want Alan, because of his thorns. As for Undertaker…you’re correct. I can’t tell you anymore beyond that. I’ve sworn not to discuss why they want Undertaker and my conditions involving him. You just have to trust me.”
Eric frowned at that. He’d been shown how the procedure to cleanse the Thorns worked, but he hadn’t been told how many reapers had undergone it successfully. It made him wonder if the treatment was still in experimental stages, and if they wanted to use Alan as a test subject. It made his heart go cold. If the professor was lying to him, he would make him pay…make him wish he’d been reaped.
"Come on," he said at last. "Our lunch won’t finish itself and we’ll have tae go back tae the office, soon."
Giggling, Grell stood up and straightened his skirt. “I was suppose to be there hours ago. I got sick and tired of being called in so early in the morning. I decided to make them wait for me.”
Eric grinned. “Ye’ve go’ a lot of gumption, Sutcliff. Glad tae see someone isn’t cowed by ‘em, besides meself. Bastards think they’ve go’ us all under their heels, an’ maybe they do fer now, but tha’s no’ tae say it’ll be tha’ way forever.”
He sighed as they returned to the picnic table, and he resumed eating his meal without any real appetite. He’d lost a little weight over the weeks since Alan left, often forgetting meals entirely due to being overworked and stressed. True, he’d been overworked plenty of times in the past, but he had his comrades at his side and he could trust the reapers he worked with. Now there was only Grell, and they both obviously had reservations thanks to all this mess.
"I’m glad yer no’ jus’ blindly giving in," he confessed, "an’ maybe I’m selfish, but I’m also glad ye stayed on when ya could have run like th’ others. At least I’ve go’ one reaper I can trust. At least, I hope I can trust ya. I took a big risk, telling ye wha’ I know. Dun’ make me regret it.”
He chewed and swallowed a morsel, before regarding Grell seriously. “How are ya plannin’ tae get Undertaker on their side, by tha way? They’ve been trying tae get tha man in their ranks from tha beginning. Tha’s one tough assignment.”
Grell looked down at his bowl of chicken. He could feel his cheeks warm and he knew he was blushing. Desperately, he stabbed a piece of chicken with the tip of one of his chopsticks. “I am suppose to do whatever it takes.” he mumbled before stuffing his face.
“‘Wha’ever it takes’, eh?” Eric frowned, then smirked. “Wha’ are ya s’posed tae do…hogtie tha man and drag him into Dispatch? I cannae imagine anyone making tha Undertaker do a bloody thing he doesn’t want to.”
"Something like that." Grell replied swallowing his bit of food. He averted his gaze as he picked up his drink and took a sip. "I’ve at least perked his curiosity."
Eric’s teasing look faded, to be replaced by a pensive frown. “I’m gettin’ worried about ya, Grell,” he said honestly. The mad old mortician was nobody to fuck with. The state that the last group of reapers sent to parlay with him came back in was proof of that. “Do ya need someone at yer back?”
His desire to protect him was sincere; he’d always been a protective sort and now Grell was the only friend he had in Dispatch. He kind of thought of him as a girl and that brought out the chivalry in him as much as Alan’s gentle innocence did.
Grell raised his head and looked over at the blond. His tongue was pushed to the inside of his cheek. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind his ear. “Thank you, but I do not need any help. I have everything under control. He just needs more incentive.”
Eric sighed. “Dangerous business, tha’. I dunno wha’ kind of incentive ye plan tae give him, but just be careful. Tha offer still stands if ya get in o’er yer head, Red. Och…I dinnae mean tae rhyme jus’ then.”
He flushed, embarrassed. For a second, he wondered what Alan would think of his offering to try and protect Grell, but he knew in his bones that his sweet-natured partner would approve. Alan always seemed to like Grell and he never teased him the way some of the other reapers tended to. Eric smiled a little, missing him even more.
"I know Al would want it tha’ way," he murmured, unable to hide his lovesick expression. "He’d tell me tae watch yer back, if he were here now."
"Eric, trust me. I can handle the grave-digging fool. All he ever does is hide in one of his caskets and then pops out at me. He attempts to scare me, but I have gotten a few blows in myself." Grell rolled his eyes and rotated his wrist, a piece of chicken being whisked around and around on the end of his chopstick.
The Scotsman chuckled. “I imagine if anyone could handle that cagey old fossil, it’d be ya. Jus’ watch yerself, is all I’m sayin’.”
Driven by impulse as much as a need to connect, Eric leaned over and gave the redhead a quick kiss on the cheek. “Alan wouldnae forgive me if I let anythin’ happen to ya. We’re few enough as it is an’ I’ve go’ a bad feeling you and I could come under tha scythe soon ourselves, if we aren’t careful.”
Surprised by the unexpected kiss, Grell stared back wide eyed and unblinking, his lips parted slightly. The chopstick in his hand frozen in mid twirl as his wrist stopped mid rotation. A tinge of pink dusted his nose and his cheeks warmed once more. “E-Eric?”
"Mm?" mumbled the blond around another bite of food, having settled back to his original posture to finish his meal. He looked at Grell curiously and upon seeing his blush, it dawned on him that his actions might not have been appropriate…or wise.
“‘M sorry, Grell,” he mumbled with a grimace, wiping his mouth. “Did I mess up? I dinnae mean tae make ya uncomfortable. I jus’…don’ want tae see ya get hurt, is all. Prolly shouldn’t have done that, aye?”
At once, he felt guilty…like he’d been unfaithful to Alan. He hadn’t meant it as more than an innocent peck of affection, but now he realized that if he weren’t so madly in love with his partner, that little kiss could have been something more. Before he started falling for Humphries, he’d often admired Grell’s glorious red locks from afar and more than once, he’d contemplated asking him for a date.
He began to blush. “Ah, shit…I did screw up. Grell…I jus’…tha’ wasnae s’posed tae be a come-on. I…I love Alan. I know ya love Will, too. Gods, I’m such an ass.”
Slowly, Grell’s head shook side to side. “No…umm…it’s just… Eric. I would…well.” He paused briefly before blurting out his next sentence. “We use to nearly hate each other.”
Grell’s cheeks grew even more red with embarrassment. “That didn’t come out right. Let me try again. You just surprised me is all. I know you aren’t coming on to me. You have never looked at me as a potential and I have always been enamored with Will. And we use to…well frankly, hate each other. So I am sorry. I was just surprised by…by your kissing me is all.”
Wanting to reassure the blond, Grell sat his utensil down and took a deep breath. He reached over, placed his hand over Eric’s and smiled. “You didn’t cheat on Alan, Eric. You kissed me on the cheek. Not on the lips or sexually. Relax, you are in the clear.”
Eric swallowed, and he turned his hand over to give Grell’s a squeeze. “Thanks, red. I’ll be honest wi’ ya…I used tae be cross towards ya because I thought ya were pretty, an’ it confused me a lil’. I ne’er meant tae be an arse. I jus’ dinnnae know how tae talk to ye an’ I confess; before I started havin’ feelings fer Alan, I thought of asking ye out on a date. Thanks fer no’ making fun of me or being mean about it. I know it was jus’ a kiss on tha cheek, but…even tha’ made me feel like an eejit. Mah lips are s’posed tae be fer Alan alone, an’ I’m sorry I forgot tha’, even jus’ fer an innocent little peck. Yer a’right, Grell.”
"Now I know you’re lying. You never once thought about asking me out on a date. And if you kiss me like a sister, I am sure Alan could not care less. It isn’t like you have ever thought about bedding me." Grell giggled, picking up his bowl of food, but as he was about to take a bite he glanced over at his companion. The look on his face made Grell’s whimsical smile fade rather quickly.
"You weren’t joking were you?" he questioned as his mouth turned downwards.
Eric shook his head. “No, I wasn’t. I really thought of asking ya out on a date once or twice…but then, wull…”
He trailed off as he thought of Alan, and a little smile curved his lips. “Seems Alan had a way of putting my tomcatting ways tae rest. I cannae say when it happened, but sometime during his training an’ afterwards, I jus’ couldnae look at anyone else tha way I looked at him. Ya must think I’m a complete moron, Grell.”
He brushed his foot against the ground, absently sweeping aside some fallen leaves. “Go ahead an’ make fun o’ me if ya want. I s’pose I deserve it.”
"Eric Slingby, I would have never imagined you thought of me in such away. I just always thought you hated me. And no, I do not think you are a moron. Just a love sick nitwit." Grell teased as he grinned at the blond and then picked up his drink, taking another sip.
Eric grinned too, not denying it. “Ne’er thought I’d see tha day someone would pin me down, but I wouldnae have it any o’er way. Now I’ve just gotta keep Dispatch’s greedy paws off him long enough tae secure his treatment.”
He sighed, leaving off the fact that he was plotting to kidnap the professor that came up with the treatment, when the right moment presented itself. If it proved a success, he’d let the man go afterwards and then he’d have no reason to keep working with the enemy. He and Alan could try to build a life together—though he wondered what sort of life they’d have living on the run from authorities.
"Wha’ do ye plan tae do, Grell?" he asked curiously. "I mean if they dun’ keep their word to ya? Will ya stay wi’ ‘em, or will ya defect like tha others an’ go into hiding?"
"I don’t know." Grell answered honestly. "I would like to say I would defect and run, but I can’t say for sure. I suppose it would depend on the moment. And if anyone else was involved at the time. I am willing to do anything to keep Will alive and safe. If anything happens to him or Ronnie for that matter. I am not above slaughtering the lot of them all to protect my boys. Will may not return my affection, but I have cared for him for so long and I don’t take kindly to being double crossed. So they better not try to pull the wool over my eyes. I will paint Dispatch red if they do."
"I’m a little surprised," confessed Eric. "Ya always said if anyone’s gonna reap Spears, it’ll be you. Or is tha’ jus’ yer way o’ laying claim tae him?" He chuckled and took another bite of his meal.
Unnoticed by the two reaper agents, a raven landed on a branch in the tree shading their picnic spot. The bird watched them with remarkably intelligent, beady eyes as they chatted.
"No. I meant that." Grell chuckled. "That man drives me insane and if anyone is going to reap his ass, it will be me. But not because Dispatch forces my hand."
Eric laughed around his food, and he swallowed and wiped his mouth before responding. “Yer too much, Sutcliff. I know a lot o’ reapers tha’ would fight ya fer tha privilege though, thanks tae all th’ overtime he handed out in the past.” He sighed, going melancholy for a moment. “But ya know, I’d rather have Spears back an’ breathin’ down mah neck than having tae keep bending mah knee tae these bastards tha’ took over.”
He scratched his goatee and regarded the redhead with concern again. “Jus’ keep yer wits about ya when dealing wi’ tha Undertaker. He might be a kook, but he’s crazy like a fox. Half o’ tha’ giggling an’ drooling is jus’ an act. Dinnae forget tha’.”
"He is a pussy cat." Grell giggled, taking another bite. But as he glanced down at his bowl, an image of the Undertaker staring back up at him formed in his head. The image was from a memory, the memory of him just before he kissed the redhead. Grell felt warm once more and absentmindedly began to tug on his neck ribbon.
Eric frowned slightly. “If ye say so. I jus’ dun’ like it; them leaving you tae deal wi’ him all on yer own. Dunno wha’ ye’ve go’ in mind but…ah, hell. I’ve said all I can really say ‘bout it, haven’t I?”
He finished off his lunch and he tossed the container into the nearby park receptacle. Checking his watch, he swore softly. “Shite, we’ve gone o’er our lunch break. Time tae deal wi’ more fookin’ questions when I get back. I hope they’re no’ as suspicious o’ ya as they are o’ me.”
"Oh, umm…" Grell looked up, not having heard what the blond had been saying…only to discover Eric was finished with his lunch and waiting for him. "I’m sorry, I was not paying attention. I really do need to get back though."
Eric nodded, still looking faintly concerned. “Ya sure yer a’right, Grell?”
Grell nodded and smiled. “Yeah, just got a lot on my mind. I am dreading the meeting when I get back. Some big deal, apparently. I can’t image what it is. All they do is send me out on ‘collections’ or lecture me on how important it is to obtain Undertaker.”
Eric nearly groaned in sympathy for him, but he had his own problems to contend with and Grell had already assured him that he could handle himself. “Well, we’d best get goin’, then. Best not tae give ‘em more reason tae grill us, aye?”
"Yes., we should. I am going to get stern lecturing when I get back as is." Grell rolled his eyes and smirked. "I am so bad. One of the days I may need a serious punishing."
After Grell and Eric left the park, the raven that had been watching them flew away and vanished into thin air—or so it would seem to the eye that knew no better. In actuality, it returned through the portal opened up for it from the mortal realm. It flew over mortal London until it arrived at the south side mortuary, and it dove and flew through an open window in the back to land on the arm of the man that had sent it.
The grinning reaper listened to the raven’s squawks and clicks, nodding with interest. “So, I can expect another visit from the little rose, eh? Persistent thing, isn’t she?” He scratched his chin. “Or he. I’m still not quite sure about that. Makes no never mind to me, though. I’d be happy to provide some punishment if the lady so desires it.”
He’d gladly lift Grell’s skirts regardless of what was under them, if the opportunity presented itself.
"Ah, focus, old chap," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Goodness, he should be too old to get so distracted by a pair of legs and long hair. He fed his companion a treat of dried meat from the bowl on the counter as a reward for his work.
"Go and tell your fellows to keep a sharp eye out," instructed the Undertaker. "I want to know the moment any Dispatch agent comes within blocks of my property—particularly that agent.”
The raven cawed and flew back out the window to do his bidding. When it was gone, Undertaker closed the window and he went into the shop portion of his property to sit down at his desk and dial up one of the phone numbers he’d memorized.
"It’s me," he said when someone picked up on the other line. "Tell Mr. Spears I have news for him. Your next safe haven would be Budapest. I wouldn’t advise you chaps to stay in one location for too much longer. Word has it they’re planning to close in on Denmark branches soon and I can’t say how much longer you have before the net starts to close. Don’t think they have any idea you’re all there yet, but I wouldn’t count on Copenhagen remaining safe for too much longer. Eh? Budapest is in Hungary, lad. Yeah, that’s right."
He sighed. “I don’t care how bloody inconvenient you think it is. Unless you blokes and the ladies with you want to trek through Germany—which is completely taken over, by the way—it’s the nearest locale with a clear enough path for you. Trust me, I haven’t lived this long by making wild guesses, despite my reputation. Just relay that information to Chilly Willy for me, and tell him I’ve started keeping an eye on his little friend Sutcliff and the Scotsman. Ta.”
He hung up the phone and tapped his long nails on his desk. Again, he wondered why he was helping these outcasts. So much for staying perfectly neutral in this.
Lawrence Anderson gestured for Grell to come in when the crimson reaper opened the door. “Please have a seat, Officer Sutcliff. I shall try to make this brief, so that we may both get on with our duties.”
He opened up a folder filled with documents and he slid it over his desk, turning it around so that Grell could look through the paperwork. “First, I regret to inform you that your request to bring your former companion back from the dead simply cannot be granted…unless you manage to procure the loyalty of the Undertaker. He is the only one with the potential to actually accomplish such a feat. Bear it in mind that this isn’t exactly a ‘no’. I’m merely informing you that if you want the organization to fulfill that particular bargain, you must fulfill yours as well.”
Grell’s lip curled as he took a seat and ignored the file. He looked over at the graying reaper in front of him and growled. “I am well aware of that fact, Mister Anderson. I do not need to be reminded, yet again. And as I said before, I will get Undertaker to join Dispatch. Don’t you worry that little old head of yours. I’ll be returning to his shop after I leave here. Though it wouldn’t hurt to offer him something else. He has already stated that he needs nothing that you have already offered.”
Anderson smiled in a manner that was particularly chilling, for a man that was once so beloved and respected by so many. “There is one thing that could yet be offered to him, Sutcliff.” He nodded at the documents again. “Two, in point of fact. You may present the photographs inside to him, and then use whatever means necessary to sweeten the deal. Let him know that if he cooperates, he will be issued one of these very special scythes. They’re far more conventional than any model created up to now.”
Peeking at the pictures, Grell’s eyes widened and then he looked up at his new boss. “How? How are you making those into scythes?” He pointed to one of the photos of the newly designed scythes. “Those are mortal weapons. They are not made for reaping. Are you and the others loosing your oversized, fucking heads? Undertaker will never accept that as a bargaining chip. Nor do I. I won’t use one of those things. My scythe has been adapted for my taste. I won’t be a coward and take my targets out from a distance.”
He pushed his chair back and stood, walking to the window he leaned against the frame. His arms crossed over his chest as he peered out through the tinted glass. “I need a better offer for him. I can sweeten it only so far without sleeping with him.”
Lawrence drummed his fingers on his desktop impatiently. “I really don’t care about your personal opinion concerning the new scythes, Sutcliff; and neither does the board. For that matter, we don’t care how you win the Undertaker over, just so you do it. If your body is the only bargaining chip you are prepared to use, so be it. I merely offer this as a last ditch alternative to spare you the indignity. If you aren’t prepared to deliver your end of this bargain, then consider the other conditions of your contract null and voice. You may even find yourself making the list of officers to be replaced, if you aren’t careful with how you handle this.”
Grell spun around and glared at the reaper. The curls dangling from his ponytail bobbing from the movement. He uncrossed his arms and marched over to the desk, slamming his fists down up the glass top. His lip curled once more in disgust.
"Fine. I will present your new so called scythes to him and if that is not enough…I will seduce him."
Anderson nodded in approval. “Good luck to you, then.”
Alexander covered his mouth on a yawn, blinking tired eyes at the computer screen as he searched through the database he’d broken into. He reached for his coffee, grimacing at the bitter flavor as he swallowed. He was more of an energy drink kind of guy, but he sadly had no access to that here and he had to settle for instant coffee, instead.
"I don’t know why I let them talk me into this," he complained as he searched through the files for anything that might give them a heads-up on the enemy’s next move. Spears was right, though; there best bet on staying under the radar was to stay a step ahead of enemy authorities and see them coming before they even moved in on them.
That logic was never more accurate than now, he discovered, as he found something that made his eyes widen. “Oh shit…they’re here already.”
Alexander adjusted the cap on his head and he snatched up his pen, putting it between his teeth for a moment while he searched for his pad of paper. He took the pen in hand and he wrote down the coordinates he’d found, cursing under his breath. Hoping he was wrong, he hacked into the signal he’d found and he put his headphones on, turning the volume up on the laptop to hear it better.
"Shit!" He tore the headphones off and got out of his chair, stumbling in his haste and nearly pitching forward onto his face. He closed the laptop, unplugged it from the wall and stuffed it into its carry bag.
It seemed they should have heeded the Undertaker’s warning a bit sooner and moved on…but they still had time to get out if they moved fast.
Alan was feeling strangely out of breath as he packed up a box of important provisions they needed to take with them on their run to a new location. He’d only packed and moved three boxes, but it felt as if he’d done thirty as he closed up the top of the box with packing tape and heaved it into his arms. A slight sweat broke out over his skin as he slowly made his way over to set the box down next to their soon-to-be former main room.
"Hey—you okay, Al?" Ron asked, having just come out of his and William’s former shared room with the last of the things they had kept in there, "You seem…tired. Did you not get enough sleep?"
"I’m fine, don’t worry." Alan reassured him, "You should work with Mister Spears to start moving these through to the new location. We’re using a portal, right?"
"Fastest way." Ron nodded.
"Then I’ll get the rest of the things packed up and ready to be moved with young Jeffries." Alan set down the box in the pile and walked back into the back room that had been his shared bedroom while they were there. "That box ready to be taken out?" He asked Alex, and when the reaper nodded, he bent over to pick it up.
However, half-way to the door, He doubled over, gasping as a sharp pain shot through not his heart, but his gut. “Ahg!”
Jeffries rushed to his side to support him. “Yikes…easy there,” said the auburn-haired reaper as he helped Alan to set the box down. “What happened? Did you strain your back or something? Is it the Thorns? Do I need to get someone?”
There weren’t really any certified Shinigami doctors they could turn to, but a couple of the reapers that had joined their ragtag group had medical training. Both of them had been nurses, before they fled London after the doctor they worked under disappeared.
Alan shook his head, holding his lower stomach, “No…I just…cramped up or something…It’s not Thorns or my back…” He set down the box and took a deep breath, “I don’t…normally get cramps…it’s…I should be fine, it’s just odd…”
Alexander lifted his cap to comb his bangs back under them and out of the way, and he reached into his pocket for the little salt container he kept there. He pinched some of the white substance out of it and threw it over his shoulder. “I don’t want to tell you what to do, but you haven’t seen a real doctor for a checkup since this started, right? I think maybe you should take it easy and let the rest of us do the lifting, just to be safe.”
"But then I’d be dumping all the work onto everyone else. It isn’t right, and it’s not like it’s my illness. It’s just I’ve been getting cramps the past two days and feel tired randomly…I’ll be fine. I’m sure it will pass."
Jeffries still looked concerned, but he sighed and nodded. “If you say so, I can dig it. At least stick to the lighter things, okay?”
He picked up the heavier box that Alan had been attempting to lift earlier, and he carried it out to be transported through the portal with the rest of them.
Alan sighed, taking a deep breath and tried to suppress the painful cramps before getting up and moving to find a lighter box. He would take a nice hot soak in a tub once they got all moved in order to ease the cramps.
-To be continued