A/N: I saw there were virtually no EricxRonald stories on here, so I decided to make one. Not going to say too much here because I really can't stand long author's notes. I'll try to update weekly or at least every other week. Do enjoy.

Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso.

This was the end of the line. For both of them. He never imagined it would end this way—surrounded like they were, without their scythes and in a situation he didn't even fully comprehend. He had all of the pieces, but he still couldn't put them together. Every bit of information was laid out in front of him and yet nothing made sense.

"Ronald. There's something you should know."

"I'm not going to listen to sappy talk right now, okay, Eric? I'm trying to think of a way out of this." Where was creativity when he needed it? When his life depended on finding out a way of getting out in one piece?

"We're not getting out of this."

"No! Just stop, okay? You can meet Alan in the afterlife later!"

"Why would you even bring Alan into this? You and I are about to die here! And I wanted to say—"

Ronald was silent for a moment, drowning out Eric's voice with his own thoughts. They could make it out. Even if the prospects looked grim. And tomorrow would just be as weird and awkward as any workday with Eric was. It would go back to the routine he had fought so hard to get used to. He just had to think of a way to get out of this—retrace his steps from the very beginning and it would come to him. The answers were there in front of him; it was finding the hidden solutions, hints and clues in the past that was the trick…

Not a month before, he was there, like most Monday nights. Light on. Scythe next to the desk. Files messily lined up to the left. Blazer draped over the chair in front of his desk. Hunched over, filling out the last of his paperwork at 8:00. Ronald Knox operated so predictably that he was sure he'd be the easiest person in the Reaper Realm to stalk. He always took a shower in the morning, always had coffee and toast as he was rushing out the door, and then he'd work all day before clocking off and going on a group date—or at least somewhere other than straight home. From the day he received his position in the London Division of the Reaper Dispatch Society, he had done things the same and rarely deviated from his routine.

Though the disruption had ruined it all when Alan had died. It was awfully lonely with Alan dead and Eric indefinitely suspended for the stunt he had pulled. Ronald did his best not to think about it really, not to think about the entire incident revolving the two and the nine hundred and ninety-nine stolen souls. It had been more paperwork than he liked to think he'd ever have to fill out in his entire career. Even split between he, Grell and William, it was enough overtime for two months.

That had been three years ago, but it still didn't feel like either of them were really gone. It was like they had taken an extended holiday somewhere away from the paperwork and the reaping and the mind-numbingly boring efficiency with which it all had to be carried out. It wasn't as if Ronald couldn't see it happening. Overtime was almost unavoidable during the week.

Losing two members of the London Division hadn't helped the predicament with the lack of staff. It wasn't that they lacked have the means to recruit more reapers—or rather, reinstate perfectly good ones that had made bad decisions—it was how strict The Board was on the paperwork required to do everything other than breathe and sleep. Even if he had made some pretty rash choices, they could have used Eric. It was convincing the Board to do the paperwork for it.

He finished the last of his forms and placed the paper on top of the rest. Finally, a moment to sit back in his chair and take a moment to breathe. He was still in his office two hours after pretty much everyone else had left and any parties going on would be in full swing. As much as Ronald wanted to go, he wasn't sure he could make the effort to go and socialize for once in his life. Last night's party had left him with only three hours of sleep and he'd worked for twelve hours straight. He wasn't quite sure he could have a repeat.

As terrible as it had been—what Eric had done—Ronald could never bring himself to completely hate his former idol. Nor did he believe that Eric should have been punished as harshly as he was for it. He'd only done it out of love for Alan, trying to save him from all that pain and suffering. It couldn't have been easy, making the decision that should have gotten him killed. And would have—if Sebastian Michaelis had any idea how to properly wield a Death Scythe and kill a reaper.

The moment Eric had been well enough to do anything other than lay around in a hospital bed, he had been put on indefinite suspension, constant supervision, and a whole host of other privacy-intrusive punishments, and Ronald hadn't seen him since. The council didn't want to kill him, after all—they didn't like killing any type of reaper in case they felt the need to rope one back into the work force. That was probably why Grell had gotten off so easy after causing the ruckus in London along with his human accomplice and got his post back time after time.

Ronald almost felt guilty for not making the effort to try and find out where Eric was and see him. They had been friends for so long and losing Alan most likely tore Eric apart. Isolationism could do things to the mind.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do that night.

Knowing the amount of paperwork he would have to submit to request to see a convicted criminal would be immense, he decided to collect it while he was still within the walls of the Dispatch Society. With any luck, he'd finish all the forms he needed to that night and be able to return them to the administration office in the morning for the long process of approval.

Ronald hoisted himself up out of his chair and crossed his office to the door. He was located on floor six, along with the rest of the members of the London Dispatch, although they all seemed to have gone home already except for William. His light was the last to be turned off every night, he was sure of it. He made a quick break to the elevator, although a glance into the windows surrounding William's office told him that his supervisor was somewhere else around the building. So he took the chance and darted to the elevator, pressing the button for the first floor as the door slid closed.

The first floor was spacious and empty with more than a few corridors leading in different directions. There were no paintings or pictures on the wall and the floors were marble and sparkled with cleanliness. The colors were neutral if there were any at all, which was meant to lead to fewer distractions and a more stoic attitude when it came to harvesting the souls of the dead. However, Ronald found it only had the opposite effect. It made things boring and therefore, he tried to find distractions. When the elevator came to a stop, he quickly exited and walked down the left corridor to the Administration Office.

When he arrived there, he wasn't surprised to find it was empty. The only lights turned on were dull and only provided the minimum amount of light to see in the dark. The front desk was mahogany and tall and had an extension along the front with a small protrusion that Ronald rested his arms on. He drummed his fingers on the top of the desk as he thought about where the papers would be. After deciding that he would try the different piles of blank forms behind the wooden barrier, he stood on his toes and leaned over, squinting in hopes of finding the papers without having to turn on all the lights and draw attention to himself.

He went through each pile, picking up the top sheet and examining it closely before putting it down again and not bothering to make sure it was aligned with the stack. Scythe modification request forms, transfer request forms—ha, that was a joke—new glasses issue/repair request forms. Forms for everything under the sun except request for visitation for reapers suspended/imprisoned. Truth be told, he didn't even know where Eric was. If he had been imprisoned, he might need at least five other forms. That included forms which would give permission for the higher ups in the Society to use every tool possible to scrutinize his reasoning for even wanting to visit Eric.

With a frustrated sigh, he climbed over the desk with a bit of difficulty and began to properly sift through the goldmine of forms. There was even a request for reproduction form. He held the piece of paper up and studied it in disbelief. He honestly had no idea why some of these forms were laying on the desk—particularly ones that were requesting permission to have sex and get pregnant. After all, not that many reaper women he knew that got pregnant actually stayed that way.

"Ronald Knox? What on earth are you doing?"

There was hardly ever a moment he was doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing and William wasn't around to catch him in the act. This was apparently no exception.

Ronald looked up to see the glint of light reflecting off of his supervisor's glasses. "Looking for a form." He answered honestly. Although he knew that William probably wasn't buying it. "…need one?" It couldn't hurt to try and be helpful. That and he was on the side of the desk with all the forms anyway.

"No, I was just returning to my office." William's glasses seemed to flash. "Is there any particular reason this can't wait until your shift tomorrow morning?"

"I'm off tomorrow," he elaborated. "But I wanted to get it filed as soon as possible."

"You're not off tomorrow, Ronald Knox."

Ronald hated it when William called him by his full name like a scolding parent. So he might have been doing the equivalent of sticking his hand in the biscuit tin, but he was by no means a child. And what was worse in all this was that his day off had magically disappeared. Just like all the other days off he had since he began working for the London Division.

He sighed, going back to looking through the variety of forms. "When am I in then?"

"That depends on when Mr. Slingby's curfew allows him to come in." Ronald didn't even have to look up to know that William was adjusting his spectacles. But upon hearing that…

"What do you mean?" The younger reaper stopped looking through papers as the information processed. "I thought…"

He didn't even have to finish his sentence. William knew he was out of the loop on this one. "Since you seem to have nothing better to do than rummage around unoccupied desks, it would be most appreciated if you accompanied me to my office. It means I won't have to spend time tomorrow morning explaining everything to you."

Ronald climbed back over the desk, earning himself a rather disapproving look from his superior as he did. "I'm guessing Eric isn't imprisoned then?"

"Not physically at the very least."

Well, William was just a ball of fun as always. Ronald couldn't expect anything less from his boss though. "Ouch. That was cold."

"Just making an observation."

Though, Ronald understood it. The guilt of having to live with killing Alan and his death being in vain. He'd tried to save Alan and in the end, he only ended up hurting him. Yet, he was willing to bet it was more complex than that. The official report stated that Alan had stepped in the way to block an attack to Ciel Phantomhive—and after intense investigation, it was ultimately ruled as a less major offense. Or so he had heard.

An awkward and tense silence persisted the entire way to William's office. Once they got back to the sixth level, he noticed there were a few more people there after all. Even Grell's light was on and he was hunched over papers, scribbling away, and he didn't seem to notice the two. Probably stuck trying to hastily finish paperwork due at midnight.

William opened the door to his office and lead Ronald in, watching him careful as he slinked into the room under his supervisor's watchful gaze. He sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk and stared at the neat stack of papers there until William had shut the door and walked around to the other side.

Ronald let only half a second of silence pass before blurting out, "Is Eric coming back to wor-"

"Mr. Knox, if you would, have a bit of patience." William spoke over his underling and placed a file in between the two. "As of late, we've been coming across a very strange occurrence that I want you to look into."

Ronald took the file into his hand and flipped through it with a frown. "I thought…that Grell got this kind of stuff before me." Especially the complex stuff. Words jumped out at him like "incorrect records" and "vanishing humans" and "tampered material". He hadn't been put on a case like this in a long time. Not since the incident with the reanimated corpses.

"Sutcliff is just the type to complicate matters." William sighed and adjusted his glasses. "The Board made the decision to assign you to the task. However…due to your track record on missions that might require a bit of brawn, they have decided to temporarily reinstate Mr. Slingby to accompany you on your trial promotion."

That took a moment to swallow. Ronald was sure he would never get a mission that could be seen as dangerous again. The fact his ass was handed to him by both Sebastian and Undertaker in the same night sealed his fate for getting easier cases. He had grown accustomed to it.

"That being said, a new recruit will be taking care of those on the death list assigned to you until you uncover what is going on and file the necessary paperwork in conjunction with it." William explained and Ronald nodded to acknowledge him as his eyes scanned the papers in the file.

It had to be big if they were reinstating a criminal. Sure it had been a few years since then, but not nearly enough to constitute as suitable fully-spent suspension for the acts committed.

"You may review the case for yourself, Mr. Knox. Correct me if I am mistaken, but I do believe you can read." William raised an eyebrow and looked at the other over the rims of his glasses.
Ronald internally groaned. Overtime without it being official overtime. He stood up and placed the file under his arm, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It had been a rather unpredictable night—something that he wasn't particularly fond of.

"Well then, where do I find Eric? Or am I not allowed to know?"

"Right here, Knox."

The door hadn't made a sound. But there, just at William's door stood Eric Slingby.