A/N – This is written for QL round 12, crossovers, and the optional prompts [word] Utopia, Honest, and Lantern.
I've never written a crossover before – I've never posted for a fandom other than HP before – and I'm not sure how pleased I am with this; there're probably loads of mistakes – I'm not too confident with writing for Black Butler, and I didn't get it beta'd. I might turn it into an MC later though, as I didn't get to where I originally wanted to end this in the QL word limit. I'm not sure I'm even half-way there, really, but I'm hoping this feels like an ending.
Regulus opened his eyes, blinking to try and clear his vision. He couldn't tell where he was; he could only see bright lights reflecting off of white surfaces, making it impossible to tell the actual size of the room. There was a clatter as someone dropped something plastic onto a hard surface.
"Ah, I'm glad to see you're finally awake, Mister Black. Dispatch will be happy for the new recruit," a bland voice spoke to his side. He tried once again to focus his eyes on the figure, but he could only make out a vague form.
"My- My eyes? I can't-"
"Yes, yes. Someone from glasses will be up to deliver you a temporary pair shortly, I imagine. Should have been here already, really." The voice – a woman, he was sure – spoke in an almost irritated tone.
"But I- I don't need glasses." The woman scoffed at his response.
"Of course you need glasses, Mister Black. You're a Reaper, are you not."
"A- a what?"
"Honestly, didn't they tell you anything? This really isn't in my job description." The woman sighed at this, and he could hear the clicking of a pen as she muttered something to herself that he didn't quite catch. "They'll tell you more at orientation, I'm sure, but... well. You're now a part of the London District, or English Branch if you would prefer. I have you down here as..." there was a brief pause as she picked up the plastic object from before, and he could hear the sound of pages turning, before she spoke again. "Yes, Retrieval Division. Once your glasses get here you can join the rest of the new recruits. You're a little behind, but I'm sure you'll be able to catch up. Now, if that's all." She didn't bother to finish her sentence, just dropped the plastic – clipboard, he imagined – down on the surface beside him, and he could hear the dull sound of her rubber soles connecting with the floor as she walked away.
He let out a sigh; he would just have to wait for this orientation, then, if he wanted to get any proper information. He spent the time trying to focus on something – anything – around him. He was sure they'd done something to his eyes; he'd never had any need of glasses before this.
He didn't know how long he'd been there before he heard another set of footsteps approaching him.
"This is really inconvenient, you know." This voice was distinctly more unpleasant than the last, and he hadn't been too fond of her either. "I've already been to this floor today, and to come back just for you... Well. We're all short staffed, you know." Regulus felt something being pushed into his hand, and he reflexively wrapped his fingers around it. "Your glasses. Take care of them, they are your most valuable piece of equipment. A Reaper without his glasses is useless." And with that, he walked away, leaving Regulus even more confused than before.
At least he could see now, he thought as he unfolded his new glasses and slid them into place, the room around him coming immediately into sharp focus. It was a little reassuring, but not as much as he had hoped it would be.
He looked around, noting the bland interior of a generic hospital room, stretching on for presumably the entire length of the floor. There were plenty of other beds, but only a few were occupied and he couldn't see any staff anywhere.
There was a black suit hanging from the curtain railing; cheaply made, but it looked to be in his size, and he would be glad to get out of the hospital gown. He had just finished putting on the suit, and was in the process of doing his tie, when another voice called out to him.
"You! New recruit, aren't you?" The man was wearing the same generic suit as the one Regulus had just put on; black slacks, jacket and tie, crisp white shirt. His glasses were more decorative than the frameless round glasses Regulus had been gifted with, and his eyes were an alarming phosphorescent shade somewhere between green and yellow.
"I- er-"
"Yeah, they're all confused at first. Should probably get in some sort of greeting service; shame we don't have the staff, really." Complaining seemed to be a common characteristic amongst these people; Regulus didn't see why – they at least knew what was going on around here. "Julie from Management sent me over. You were supposed to be at orientation an hour ago."
The man gave him no chance to reply, simply ushered him out of the ward and into a lift, despite the fact that Regulus hadn't managed to find his wand.
"How many floors are there in this place?" Regulus couldn't refrain from asking, staring at the wall almost completely covered in buttons.
"Only eight you need to worry about, if you're lucky," was the brisk reply. It seemed that most people in this place had something better to be doing than answering his questions, even though he had yet to see any real work going on. "They'll explain in orientation."
And there it was again – orientation – it was starting to sound a lot more ominous than any Death Eaters Regulus had had the pleasure of meeting.
The lift stopped with a quiet ding to announce their floor, and they exited in silence.
The man led Regulus into what appeared to be a large classroom; there were only a few people in attendance, and they were all crowded around the front desk listening to a tall, dark haired man with rectangular glasses with thick black frame. He glanced up when they entered, but continued addressing the small group in front of him.
"This is the last of 'em, Spears," the man with Regulus said; Regulus briefly wondered if he should have asked his name, but he was already being pushed forward towards the group, all of whom were staring at him in varying degrees of annoyance.
The other man – Spears, Regulus corrected himself – gave a slight nod and gestured for Regulus to take a place with the others.
"One of the others will have to fill you in later," he said, irritation clouding his tone. "We're heading down to-"
"Will, darling, have some compassion." A red-head appeared, leaning – his? her? Regulus couldn't tell - weight forward on the doorframe and standing on one leg. They flashed a grin in Regulus' direction, their teeth sharpened into dangerous looking points. "Look at that face; look at that bone structure." They came bounding over to Regulus, draping themselves across his shoulders.
"Get away from me," he hissed through clenched teeth, pushing them away with as much force as he could muster.
"Oh, my darling boy, I do love a man who's willing to get a little rough with me," they smirked.
"That's enough, Grell," Spears said, clearly used to this extravagant behaviour. "Ignore him," he spoke to the entire class, walking towards the door as if he expected them all to follow.
"Oh, William, that's not how you treat a lady," Grell cried, voice shrill, throwing an arm across their forehead and leaning back against one of the empty desks.
Regulus hurried to catch up with Spears, and avoid this clearly unstable individual; the rest of the group seemed to have the same idea, and soon they were all crowded into the lift.
"Wait for me," Grell called cheerfully, extending the last word into two syllables. They ran through the room, long red coat billowing out behind them like a pair of demonic wings, and made it just before the doors closed. They stood facing the doors, seemingly unaware of how much space they were being given in the cramped lift.
Grell was the first to leave the lift when it reached their floor, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow and letting everyone pass them. Spears pushed to the front of the group, adjusting his glasses with what appeared to be a hedge prune he'd got from Merlin knows where.
"Come on, we're not running over today." He pushed the double doors open, and continued to address the group without turning to face them. "This is Lawrence Anderson, arguably the most important person here. He makes custom glasses for each Reaper." Regulus could see the excitement growing in everyone around him.
"We'll finally be getting something decent, rather than the standard-" one boy whispered to another; they both had the same alarming green eyes as everyone else Regulus had seen – the same colour and vibrancy, only differing slightly in shade.
"But don't get ahead of yourselves," Spears interrupted. "You have a long way to go before you'll be seeing him again. He won't be making your glasses until you pass the course." There was a lot of dissatisfied grumbling from the group; Regulus still had no idea what was going on, but he wouldn't be admitting to that any time soon.
"Oh, Will! You're scaring the new recruits," Grell's voice came from back near the door and, when Regulus turned to look, he could see Grell standing on tiptoes to see over everyone's heads. "It's not as bad as all that. Passing's easy if you've got the right partner. Isn't that right, Will?" they said with a suggestive leer, made all the more terrifying for their razor sharp teeth.
Spears ignored Grell – something he seemed to be awfully good at – and continued on with his speech. Regulus tuned most of it out; he was obviously here by mistake and, as soon as he'd found his wand and sorted this all out, he could be back home with his parents.
There was a small seed of doubt growing in the back of his mind; a lot of what they were saying rang true, but there was something else. Some... memory that he couldn't quite recall, but he knew to be incredibly important. Something... A lake?
"Are you alright?" Grell asked, jarring him from his thoughts. Only then did Regulus note that everyone was already moving on; how much time had passed?
"I- I don't belong here," Regulus stuttered slightly, but gained more conviction as he continued. "I need to find my wand and get home, there's-"
"Wand? You're a Reaper, not a magician." The red-head seemed to have calmed slightly in their confusion.
"I'm not a magician, I'm a Wizard," Regulus replied haughtily. "And what's a Reaper? Everyone keeps talking about it."
"Well... you are. We all are, darling. What do you think this is?"
"I don't know! I just woke up today, and-"
"Oh, you missed induction?" they asked, momentarily deflating. "You must be terribly confused, you poor thing. Well, fear not!" they yelled, back to their usual flamboyant self, throwing their arms out in an extravagant gesture. "For I will be the lantern guiding you on your way through the dark-"
"Please stop." Regulus could feel a headache coming along, building in pressure with each word they spoke.
"Well, aren't you snippy."
A throat cleared behind them, and they both turned to look at the aged man seated stooped over a pair of half finished spectacles. "This is incredibly delicate work, and if you two are just going to stand there and chat then I must ask that you leave."
"Sorry, Pops," Grell replied loudly in their usual screechy voice, startling several workers, and dragged Regulus from the room; he was sure he'd heard the sound of shattering glass and, as the doors closed, he could distinctly hear muffled swearing.
"Now, I'm going to teach you everything I know," Grell almost sang, skipping rather than walking towards the lift.
"Isn't Spears supposed to..." Regulus trailed off as he realised he wasn't sure exactly what Spears was supposed to be doing.
"Oh, not to worry, me and Will are both coaching the new recruits this year." Grell gave Regulus one of their deadly smiles; it was probably intended to be reassuring, but had the opposite effect. "Isn't it wonderful! Me and William, together again!" They clasped both their hands to their chest, twirling as if they had some latent desire to become a ballet dancer.
"I need to get home," Regulus said, trying to get this conversation back on track.
"You are home. For the next three years, you get to live in this-"
"But I'm not!" Regulus interrupted before they could launch into yet another poetic tirade. "I'm not a... Reaper."
"Oh, but you are my poor, confused little boy." Grell looked about three seconds away from hugging him, but they managed to stop themselves in what was clearly a feat of enormous restraint. "Look." Grell turned Regulus' face towards the mirror at the back of the lift, pushing their own face uncomfortably close to his. Regulus looked at them in annoyance, about to voice his displeasure, when he caught sight of his reflection.
For the most part, he looked exactly the same - same jaw; same mouth; same cheekbones – but there was a very notable difference. The glasses, which looked like they would be more appropriate on that ghost he'd heard some of the girls at Hogwarts complaining about, he could explain away. He'd obviously been in some sort of accident – which also explained the almost-memories; the fleeting images he could see only when he wasn't thinking of them. Maybe they hadn't been able to get to him in time to completely heal him, or maybe he'd been found by Muggles and this was the result of their poor medicine, but...
The eyes.
His eyes. The same phosphorescent chartreuse as everyone in this place seemed to have, and it looked just as wrong on his face as it had on everyone else's.
"See? You're a Reaper, you're-" they began, terrifying grin still taking up most of their face.
"No! This is- No!" Regulus couldn't make any sense of this; surely there had to be a mistake? How could he be a Reaper? He didn't even know what that was. "I'm not- I can't-"
"They really didn't explain anything to you, did they? Well, no worries, my love, for I am-"
"This is absolutely ridiculous! Why is no one in this place capable of explaining anything?" Regulus' patience had finally snapped; he was a little surprised he'd lasted so long – there was only so much nonsense a person could handle. "How long does it take to get some bloody answers around here?"
"Well, that was entirely unnecessary. Are you quite finished?" Grell looked absolutely scandalised, as if Regulus' sudden – albeit brief – outburst was completely unwarranted. "There was absolutely no need to take that tone, and with a lady, no less." Regulus sighed, closing his eyes briefly in an effort to stave off yet another headache.
"I'm sorry," he said, more to appease Grell than because there was any truth behind the words. "That was no way to speak to a-" he gave Grell a quick once over, noting the masculine form of their body, and yet the feminine features that graced their face "-lady," he finally relented. "And for that, I offer my sincerest apologies."
"Oh, you do know how to make a girl blush," Grell spoke in their falsely high voice, fanning themselves with their right hand. "And, for being such a gentleman," Grell said with a leer, "I shall tell you all you wish to know."
"Finally," Regulus muttered under his breath. "Alright," he said, louder. "What's a Reaper?"
"We review the souls of the near deceased, and collect their cinematic records when their time comes. It's really-"
"And you're a Reaper?" Regulus thought he might be getting the hang of talking to Grell; just interrupt before they could launch off on another tangent.
"Yes," they nodded slightly, a little smile adorning their face and hands clasped over their stomach.
"And how were you made?"
"What a question! Anyone would think-"
"Presumably you didn't just sprout into being. You must have become a Reaper somehow."
"It's... a punishment," Grell spoke quietly, completely at odds with everything Regulus had previously seen from them. "Humans who have... committed suicide, they- they are to work hard and continuously observe the deaths of others until the day they are forgiven."
"You committed suicide?" Regulus asked, perhaps a little bluntly.
"Well, now you are being awfully rude-" Grell began, seeming to have recovered somewhat.
"So you're all Inferi?"
"-asking a lady such- wait... a what?"
"Inferi. Re-animated corpses." Grell squawked indignantly at that for a solid thirty seconds, cheeks turning a shade of red almost as vibrant as that of their hair and flapping their arms about as though trying to grasp an answer from the air, before finally managing to formulate a reply.
"This may not be the utopia that we were promised – the place where we can rest for all eternity in satisfied bliss, surrounded by every beauty imaginable-"
"But I didn't kill myself," Regulus said, stopping Grell in the middle of spouting their poetic nonsense.
"What?"