Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is property of Yana Toboso, I own nothing save for this fanfiction and the dream that we get more of these two in the future.

Prompt: Imagine one half of your OTP meeting the other half through different past lives and remembering them while the other doesn't.

Author's Note: I wrote this at five in the morning as an apology to my William for not being around for the entire weekend. I do love her so and feel I haven't been treating her right. I saw the prompt and it struck me so badly I just had to get it down.

Three Lives

The first time he sees him is in Tottenham park. The boy runs with a number of urchins just like himself, a small pack of eleven-twelve-and-thirteensomethings. He rushes past him, the barest collision happening that makes William pause in his step. He glances back as the rest of the children run off but the offending child in question turns back, all bright smile and cheeky two fingered salute to chirp "Beggin' yer pardon, guv!" before running off once more to chase after his fellows.

It was two hours later that William finally realized his pocket handkerchief was missing.

He considers getting it back, considers telling the police of a bunch of hoodlums running around the park but something stops him from doing so. It was just one child, after all. Nothing more than one fourteen year old boy who probably didn't know any better. In a rare moment of charity, he decides to let it slide. Oh, but next time. Next time, he swears, if that boy thinks of him as an easy target then there would be hell to pay. He would take him by the hand and march him right down to the courthouse.

The next time he cuts through the park, his eyes are far more alert. He sees the children from last time and they pale as he approaches. Clearly, they know. They're dead. They've been caught. The color drains from the face of the first child William approaches but comes back when he speaks. "There was another boy with you on the afternoon of the twenty-first. Where is he?" William asks.

"You mean Ronald?" one of the urchins asks.

"Dunno. Th' director of the workhouse said he wanted to talk to him one day. " replies a small girl.

"Hasn't come back yet. That was two days ago." Says another boy.

William never sees the boy again.

Not in that lifetime, at least.

The second time he sees him is during Novice Training in the summer. His memories of his living years is a faded picture but he remembers that dual-toned blond hair and that confident grin that had charm all its own. He's seen the reports from the recruitment team. The boy isn't the most skilled of the bunch. He's stubborn and headstrong with a mind of his own but with training and practice, there was most certainly something there to draw out. He seems older than that day in Tottenham, almost nineteen by the looks of it. Did reapers age after their Reawakening? He wasn't certain.

But the boy sees him staring. Never once does he loose his cool, never once does he back down and feign submission with his tail between his legs like he's seen so many of the new recruits do. Instead he flashes a grin that was almost two notches close to a flirtatious smile. It takes a certain breed of courage to do that, and a certain ounce of gumption.

"Your name?" William asks as he approaches the trainee rank and file.

He is greeted by a confused look before he gets an answer. "It's Knox, sir." The boy with the two toned hair replies. "Ronald Knox."

Naturally, the boy is profiled for dispatch. When asked why, out of all of that batch's recruits William had chosen the one who the training team had considered the least qualified for Dispatch, he said the same thing the trainers did. There was something he'd seen in the boy.

The next they meet is after Ronald's first reap. William hears a report from the field about his shiny new recruit wrangling with six demons fresh out of the gate. Naturally, this enrages him. They were understaffed as it was. For a young thing to take on so many demons meant a risk to lose another reaper. He notices the way Ronald shuffles silently into his office and he vaguely remembers those children from the park all those decades ago. But that thought is dismissed and William turns his attention back to the matter at hand.

"Six demons. Six, Knox"
"What were you thinking?"
"Of all the reckless, impulsive, stupid things."
"Didn't they cover this in basic training, honestly."

However, the boy doesn't look the least bit bothered by this. It strikes William strange the way he seems to be secretly pleased but he decides to dismiss this look as well as send Ronald back to doing whatever he was before he'd entered his office.

The next time he sees that secret smile is during the annual office mixer. He'd only dropped by for formality's sake, because Grell had told him to come, because it would mean peace and quiet for a longer time so what was a few moments of his sanity sacrificed? He sees Ronald already chatting up a handful of the female reapers, sees them hanging on to his every word. What he doesn't see, however, is the way his eyes are following William's every move as he crosses the room to stay in the back and nurse his drink. He follows a moment after, nodding and promising his female company to come back. It takes three or four bottles until they start talking but by the night is over, William sees the smile for himself again as the distance between them closes and he feels that smile on his skin.

It isn't until several months after that when they decide where they stand. It had been meaningless between them, after all. No attachments, just physical need. In a bygone era, they were once human with human weaknesses. William found he was no stranger to these weaknesses. Not when he was faced with so eager a lover. They are, but they aren't. William refuses to admit that he's begun to pay quite close attention to their youngest recruit out of the privacy of the bed he occasionally pulls him into. No one suspects a thing. Perhaps Grell does but if he knows something, he never says anything. As it should be. But he calls Ronald into his office again one afternoon, frigid to his flirtation and attempts at initiating a quick round on his desk. Instead, he decides, they need to talk. The aimless sex has to stop. It was unprofessional. William had no place for emotions in the workplace. What were they? What did William mean to him? Was that all he was needed for? If it was, it had to come to an end. It was getting to be a distraction. But a hand finds its way to his tie and once again, he feels that secret smile pressed against his own lips. It isn't rushed and drowning in need as it usually is but tender, as if conveying an answer in a language all its own.

The last he sees of that smile after what seems to be an age is one morning when he opens shop. He's seen the boy glancing about, stepping in and never ordering anything. Not even a single cup of coffee. He always looks like he has something to say but he never says it. William had seen him before, he was sure. Seen him certainly in strange dreams about demons and reapers and a war. A war where this boy lies dying in his arms before he wakes in a cold sweat and screaming. It seems surreal to see him standing here. He isn't an exact copy, no. For one, his hair is a bit longer and a bit messier than he recalls. His eyes are no longer that curious yellow-and-green but a neutral grey though still framed by those ridiculously large frames that almost seem goggle-like. He's older as well. Pushing twenty five it seems while the one in his dreams was barely stepping into proper adulthood. It was him. Doubtless it was him. He remembers him vaguely from those dreams as well as faded memories of a boy stealing his handkerchief but it seems the child knows nothing. There is no familiarity in those eyes as he studies him from the bar as he stands by the door.

"S'cuse me." The younger man finally says, breaking the silence between them. "The sign outside says you're hiring. Is that right?"

William sets down the glass he was wiping down. It's almost as if they've had this conversation before. "Your name?" he asks, even though he has a feeling he knows what follows.

"It's Knox, sir." The boy with the two toned hair replies. "Ronald Knox."

The glass is forgotten as William steps out from behind the bartop. "Come with me, Mister Knox. I feel we have much to talk about." He finally replies, gesturing to a seat near the kitchen.