Dispatch was never silent. The clacking of typewriters, the sounds of heavy footfalls on the well-polished floors, and the distant murmur of soft conversations constantly played over the rhythm of the never ceasing clock. It was like the music of their existence, but it gave William a mild headache as he walked to his office. Even in the sanctity of his own working space, he couldn't drown out all the noise, and he pulled down his glasses slightly to rub his temples. Although still mild, he worried this headache was only the precursor for the storm of a migraine that was rumbling on the horizon. After a minute, he walked over to his desk. Like the rest of his office, it was precise and neat. Papers were all arranged in specific files in one of two trays, so the shiny surface was bare and pristine.
All except for the single envelope that stared up at him like an accusation.
His movements were slow and exact as he walked around to sit behind the desk and retrieve a silver letter opener. He was in no hurry because he already knew the contents. A young reaper by the name of Benjamin Miller had recently deserted.
It was an unfortunately common occurrence. Once realizing that they could easily walk away from their own punishment, many reapers choose to give up on redemption in a vain attempt to return to the living world. Benjamin had done just that as his glasses had been found setting in his apartment, although it was difficult to determine precisely when he left. To make the situation worse was that one of Benjamin's assigned souls had been claimed by a random demon.
William sighed as he read the letter. It was exactly as he expected, and he would have to appear before a supervisory board in the morning to fully explain the situation. While Benjamin had deserted during his free time, William was still held responsible. He had no idea how he was supposed to keep an eye on all of his subordinates during all hours, but that was simply part of his job description.
The migraine fully blossomed and raged behind his eyes.
Laying the envelope aside, William retrieved the current assignments. As usual, there were plenty of workers out on collections as there was never a shortage of deaths. His yellow, green eyes scanned through the lists as if their names could point to any potential problems, but he paused on one very familiar name.
Grell had come very close to deserting in the past; too close for William's preference. While she had never abandoned her glasses, she had chosen to wear a pair made by human hands for a time. She had kept her with her assignments, but she had spent her free time with that woman. In fact, William had always thought that the disciplinary board had actually gone easy on her with her punishment simply because they were relieved she hadn't deserted.
While she had given him no reason to fear she was even considering deserting, William still stared at her name as fear begin to nibble at the back of his mind. She was close to the area where the demon had claimed the soul left by Benjamin, but he still had no reason to imagine Grell was in any danger. In fact, she was probably the stronger agent currently in the field, but he still couldn't deny that fear. It was entirely irrational, which conflicted greatly with his usual rational mind, but the worry remained. It wouldn't leave him alone.
"Honestly," he mumbled to himself as he stood up and gathered his scythe. It wasn't outside the realm of his position to check on workers in the field, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to get any work done while he was so distracted. He would check on Grell and then return immediately.
If he was lucky, he might even be able to avoid unnecessary overtime.
((x))
It was actually a rather pleasant evening as Grell at on the ridgetop of the house. She was kicking her feet slightly, humming a happy tune, and watched as the setting sun painting the world in those fabulous shades of red that she loved so much. While she enjoyed collecting souls, there were times that the weather and ambiance just didn't play along. It was hard to see the beauty of her fabulous art when in a dark, dank alleyway cloaked by shadows. She hummed contently, as she allowed her eyes to drift from the setting sun to the man working on a struggling garden on a small plot below. He wasn't a young man, about 70 years old according to her list, and he really should have left this outdoor work to someone younger and more in shape. Of course, if he had, she might not have any reason to be here as he might not be scheduled to have a heart attack. It wasn't a more gruesome death, which was the only drawback, but she any opportunity to wield her whirling, growling chainsaw was good.
As expected, the man suddenly grabbed his chest and fell onto the young, green plants he had been carefully placing in the soil; killing them with his dying body. He clawed at his chest as if trying to reach inside to take hold of his incorporative heart as his free hand reached towards the heavens. The sky above was only beginning to darken and the first few stars were just starting to wink. Perhaps he was desperately making a wish to live, but that was one wish that wasn't to be granted.
"It's time for the star to make her deadly appearance," Grell announced as she jumped to her feet and leapt nimbly into the air. She made sure that the man saw her beautiful, scarlet image just before the light began to fade from his eyes. He deserved a chance to see his glorious reaper just before the end.
Her sharp tooth friend roared to life as she plunged it into his chest and his records went spiraling into the night sky. She hated this obligatory part of the job, but she did hold out some hope that this man had been the wild sort in his youth. Those were the kind of memories she enjoyed looking at the man.
Sadly, it appeared this man had been rather dull, and Grell didn't bother to repress her yawn. He barely even took the time to sow his wild oats, as she had heard it referred, before getting married and starting a family. He barely even drank, but she had to watch as boring memory after boring memory came spilling out. Finally, she saw him working in the garden, and she was thrilled that he had a recorded memory of her leaping towards him as one of the final frames. While she wouldn't go so far as corrupt memories, she did like to implant her own image on as many as she could.
With that out of the way, she carefully separated the records from the soul, and stamped the man's file. He was her last collection of the night, so now she was free to go home and perhaps soak in a nice hot bath. Her tired muscles practically sang at the idea, but then she felt a particular presence nearby.
"Will!" she cried, turning around, "Have you come for a secret rendezvous with me, darling?"
The stoic reaper adjusted his glasses as he stared down at her from his nearby place on top of a stone wall. "I am just making sure that everything is going according to proper procedure," he announced, "Do you have anything to report?"
She smiled brightly. "Nothing," she replied, "in fact, I'm just finished. Care to escort a lady back to the office?" She batted her eyelashes, although she didn't really think he would take her up on the offer.
Before he could respond, a sudden stench filled the area. Grell had no idea how the demon had managed to hide his scent before, but a dark figure came out of nowhere and slammed into William. She heard him grunt softly as he fell heavily, and her already passionate blood began to boil. A dark, malevolent smile was painted on her face as she launched herself to the creature that seemed to swirl and twist as if it was made of smoke. It had no time to react as she sliced it cleanly in half, and black, putrid blood spewed forth to stain the ground. She heard it cry out briefly, but it began to dissolve before it even hit the ground. A noxious gas bellowed out, and then it was gone. If not for its spilled blood, it was as if it hadn't even been there. She didn't consider it much as she ran over to William who was still lying upon some fallen stones.
"Will, are you okay?" she asked, as she smoothed back the hair that had gotten mussed in his fall. In all honesty, she actually preferred his hair hanging across his forehead the way it had in the academy, but she knew he liked to keep it neat. Although he had taken quite a hit, she was concerned that he hadn't awoke yet, and she was just about to create a portal to take him straight to the infirmary, when his eyes open rather suddenly.
"Are you okay?" she asked again, still hovering nearby.
He blinked several times as he looked her direction as he straightened his glasses. "I am unharmed," he said. He stood up and knocked the dust from his clothes. While he wasn't as into fashion and appearance as Grell, he still hated getting a perfectly good suit dirty for no reason. "Was that a demon?"
Grell nodded. "I have no idea how it hid like that," she said, "but it was no match for me." She frowned slightly when she noticed William rubbing his head. "Are you sure you okay?" She reached out to touch his shoulder.
He jerked away. "I said that I am fine, and do not touch me inappropriately, Sutcliff."
She giggled very softly. "Will, no one's around now," she said, "You don't have to act."
"I don't know what you are talking about," he replied, "Make sure you include the demon attack in your report." With those few words, he created a portal and disappeared from her sight.
Standing there, she was left to stare at the spot where he had most recently stood as the feeling of being truly and utterly alone crashed down upon her. She suddenly wished she had a thousand demons to fight and to burn up all this restless energy and unused passion that burned within her, but she didn't even know if that would be enough.
((x))
William staggered into his apartment and almost fell into the floor as he grabbed hold of the doorframe. It felt like everything was sliding sideways, and he was helpless to do anything but to hold on. His stomach lurched and convulsed painfully, but everything slowly subsided after a few minutes. Finally, he shut the door as he walked inside.
He knew that he would most likely be in trouble for not going straight back to work, especially considering his meeting scheduled for the following morning, but he couldn't go back just yet. His migraine had exploded and each of the tiny fragments had exploded again and again until he couldn't see, hear, or even think correctly. Wherever that demon must had struck him must have been the worst place, and he moaned softly as he grabbed his aching head. Memories began swirling and twisting within his mind, and he recognized an oncoming attack as he stumbled to the bathroom.
Ever since his encounter with Thomas Wallis and his memories, William had to deal with a whole set of conflicting memories that were not his own. At first, it had only been minor, but it had gotten worse over the years until he had attacks that would leave him completely unable to tell his reality from the other man's past. It was particularly disconcerting to look in the mirror and suddenly feel as if that wasn't his face or features staring back at him. The behavior specialist had prescribed him a particular strong pill that helped suppress the memories, although the medicine did cause him to sleep.
With shaky hands, he grabbed the bottle and managed to undo the lit. He wasn't sure how he didn't spill all the contents as he managed to retrieve a single pill and place it on his tongue and swallowing it dry. It left a bitter trail along his tongue and down his throat, but he felt better almost immediately. He knew it was only the thought of the medicine had helped him and not the medicine itself as he had just taken it, but he couldn't deny the relief.
Struggling to walk straight, he went into his bedroom and immediately grabbed the phone beside his bed to dial a number he had long since memorized. After two rings, a professional sounding woman answered. "Dispatch Association. How may I direct your call?"
"Ms. Fletcher," William said, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky to her as it did to him, "I won't be in for the rest of the day. Please put any necessary paperwork on my desk."
"Of course Mr. Spears," Ms. Fletcher said, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No. That will be all. Thank you, Ms. Fletcher." William hung up without giving the woman a chance to reply.
Without bothering to change out of his clothes, he collapsed on the bed as he felt the sweet release of sleep slowly pull him under. As he succumbed, he couldn't help but think of Grell and what she had said to him. What had she meant by there's no one around and that he could drop the act? He wasn't acting. Unlike her, he didn't know how to act, but she had seemed different. She had spoken softer and was less flirtatious than usual.
Could she had been the one to drop the act?
((x))
Grell stomped in the office, her saw still covered in demon blood, and she saw the other workers practically scrambling for cover. The realization brought a bitter smile to her face as she walked to the small office she shared with Ronald. Most workers, even senior field agents like herself, only had small cubicles or desk, but it seemed that the majority didn't like working with her. Although she was given an office so that she would be somewhat isolated, it actually had worked out to her advantage. She didn't have to deal with everyone else, and she had a space she could decorate in her own original style.
Slamming the door, she walked over and fell into her seat. It was a small area, mostly because it was dominated by a large, oak desk and masking bookshelf that contained various trinkets and pictures, but it was hers. Still annoyed, she grabbed a makeup mirror from a desk drawer and saw that several blotches of the demon's blood had splattered on to her face like misshapen freckles, and she grabbed some tissues to clean her face, cursing softly over the fact she would have to redo her makeup. Just as she finished, Ronald walked into the room.
"Hey, senior!" he greeted, as he shut the door behind him. "Rough day?"
She sighed dramatically as she carefully reapplied her makeup. "Nothing much," she replied, "Collected some souls. Talked to William. Killed a demon."
The younger reaper's eyes grew big. "A demon? What happened?"
"William came to check on me, because you know how he can't resist me being away from him for long," she began, "and this demon just suddenly appeared and bashed my beloved on the head. Of course, no lady can stand to see her prince fall, so I took care of the creature. It was such a low level brute too. It practically disintegrated with one swipe of my scythe."
Ronald frowned briefly. "I've never heard of a demon like that," he said.
"It was strange," she agreed, as she put away the paperwork, "And now my darling prince has chained me down with paperwork just because that brute interfered. At least it shouldn't take too long. What about you? Do you have anything to catch up on?"
Ronald shook his head and his usual grin reemerged. "Good thing too," he said, "I have a date."
"You always have a date. Who with this time?"
"Emily."
Grell set aside her paperwork and smiled. "Emily," she repeated, "Having you been dating her a month now? Is she perhaps special to you?"
A blush appeared on the blonde's cheeks. "Maybe," he said mysteriously.
"Well, I need to talk to her," Grell began, "to make sure she's good enough for my little Ronnie."
"Emily's a bit shy until you get to know her," Ronald explained, "but I'll introduce you."
"I'll make sure you do that," Grell said, "Now I have to get done with this paperwork. This is not a job for a lady, but my dear William insists." With another dramatic sighed, she gathered the right forms and began to document the encounter. She hated how repetitious the questions were, but this was just one of those things that had to be done.
It was close to the end of her shift when she finished. Ronald had already slipped out, although she hadn't paid attention to when precisely, but Grell walked rather calmly down to William's office. To her amazement, the door was locked.
"Oh, Miss Sutcliff," Ms. Fletcher called from her nearby desk, "Mr. Spears has already left for the day. Just leave your paperwork here with me."
Grell walked over and laid her documents on Ms. Fletcher's crowded desk. "William's not here? When did he leave?"
Ms. Fletcher appeared to think. "He left some time before lunch," she answered, "and then he called in later. I don't think he was feeling well."
Grell nodded distractedly as she thought over the matter. Perhaps William had been hurt more than she had realized by the demon's blow, and she couldn't help but feel a little guilty. She only wished she had insisted on Will going to the infirmary, but maybe she could do something to help him feel better.
With a plan in mind, she clocked out and hurried down the steps. Hopefully, William was in his apartment.
