Is the Choice Yours to Make?
Standard Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix Co., Ltd. Used without permission but with a lot of respect.
A/N: This story is divided into chapters that represent different points of view, so there is some overlapping between chapters, although it's done to illustrate misconceptions and miscommunications. It should be also noted that chapters from Grell's prospective (such as this one) use feminine pronouns for Grell while chapters from the POV's from other characters may use masculine terminology. This isn't meant to be disrespectful but goes back to the idea of different points of view, mindsets, etc. which is a major theme in this story.
Chapter 1: The Angel's Offer
The rain, which had been falling steadily for most of the day, had dwindled into a pathetic drizzle as evening approached. The slate gray clouds had begun to break up slightly so that patches of the deep blue velvet of the sky and the occasional twinkling of a distant star could be seen, which were reflected in the various puddles that had gathered upon the streets. The lamplighters had already made their rounds, and the soft glow of the street lamps highlighted the gathering fog – creating patches of gold within the silver mist. Somewhere, in the distant, a dog barked pitifully and almost mournfully, but for the most part the night was quiet. Many would have referred to it as peaceful. Grell found it unbearably boring.
She was standing silently on a roof, thankful that at least the rain had stopped. While she was in no danger of catching a cold, working in soggy, dripping clothes was unpleasant to say the least, and it took forever to dry her hair properly. For the moment she was cloaked so that she was invisible to human eyes, but she was partially tempted to cast aside that veil so that all that looked up could see her deadly beautiful, crimson image standing against the sky. She would be that dash of color and excitement that London so desperately needed tonight, but she decided against it for now as she kept her gaze on a dingy window across the street. Looking through the glass, she watched a small girl that lay sleeping in an uneasy manner upon a lumpy bed. She was small for her seven years of age, and she was going to die very shortly of the measles.
It seemed like once every decade there was another outbreak of measles, although Grell was thankful that the number of infants who had died thus far seemed to be minimal. The victims were mostly small children, and that didn't bother her nearly as much. Her desire to bare children and her attraction towards babies in general were well-known, but once children were able to walk and talk, her interest waned greatly. While she recognized that the parents mourned their children's deaths considerably, for Grell it was just another task that had to be done – and an easier job than usual at that. The records of children were usually rather short and there wasn't nearly as much paperwork to be completed.
From her perch, the red reaper saw movement from the corner of her eye only to see Eric and Alan moving steadily across some nearby rooftops, although neither had noticed Grell. Alan was in the lead, but even Grell could see that his normally graceful movement were slightly stilted and slowed by the advancement of the Thorns. While Eric's face was turned away from Grell, she was sure if she had frontal view of the taller reaper she would have seen the concern etched clearly into his features as he watched his partner – no doubt even more acutely aware of the physical changes and difficulties caused by the progression of the disease. Eric was not particularly gentle or protective by nature, at least not that Grell had ever been aware of, but Alan had changed all that. That was the nature of love.
A myriad of emotions rose up within the flamboyant redhead as she watched her coworkers move silently out of sight. First and foremost, she genuinely felt sorry for Alan and his predicament. While she and the younger reaper had not seen eye to eye on a few occasions, Alan had always been respectful, and Grell rather liked him as an individual. He had a quiet, serious way about him that was tempered with gentleness and caring. There was just something about his presence that seemed to bring the best out in those around him, such as was evident with Eric – and he could do this by saying and doing very little. It was a true and rare talent.
Yet there was a tiny part of Grell that couldn't be completely sympathetic to Alan's plight. After all, you only contracted the Thorns of Death by getting wrapped up in emotions concerning the soul you were supposed to reap and not being careful. In one sense, it was Alan's own fault that he was sick, and Grell couldn't help but think how this sort of situation would never happen to her. Although she was often accused of having no filter when it came to expressing her mind, Grell had enough sense not to give voice that that particular thought. In truth, she felt a twinge of guilt in blaming Alan for his illness but was honest enough with herself that she couldn't deny the thought's existence.
Finally, she was a little envious of Alan for he had found a true and passionate love – something that she feared would be forever beyond her grasp. Even if some stranger that knew nothing of his relationship with Eric had seen the two tonight, the connection would have been evident with even a passing glance. When Alan did eventually die, Eric would be heartbroken and probably inconsolable for weeks, months, and perhaps even years. Even if he did finally move on to another relationship, it would be a poor substitute for nothing would ever take the place within his heart that Alan had fit so easily and well. That was the kind of love that she wanted. It was the kind of love written up in the famous plays and most heart wrenching poetry. Why did it always dance just beyond her grasp and tease her passionate heart?
Of course, Eric wouldn't be the only to grieve. Alan was well-liked and even William had taken it upon himself to give ill reaper easier assignments and let him work with Eric on jobs that only required a single worker. It was actually a major sign of kindness and consideration from their supervisor. When the Thorns did finally end Alan's life, he would be missed and remembered by many, which left Grell with a singular, burning question.
Would the same be true if she was the one dying instead of Alan?
Ronald would miss her no doubt because the two had grown rather close. They bickered and teased one another much of the time, but it was just a way to show that they cared for one another. Alan would miss her as well, although she wasn't quite as sure about Eric. There was times that she was nearly convinced that he almost hated her. As for William, Grell loved to imagine that he would throw himself on her casket (specially handcrafted by the Undertaker of course) with tears streaming down his face. He would wail about how he had always loved her but had never summoned the courage to say anything. Perhaps when the time came to lay her in the ground, he would jump down into the open grave and insist that they be buried together because he never wanted to be separated from her again.
Grell knew, however, that this was just a fantasy as she carefully folded up the daydream and tucked it away in her heart. At best, Will would probably just make a comment about being short another worker and how her untimely passing had only resulted in more paperwork. She ran her long fingers through her scarlet strands as she brought her thoughts around full circle. It most likely wouldn't be the same if it was her instead of Alan, but a small part of her wished she could see how everyone would react if their roles were reversed.
"That's an odd train of thought, little reaper," a soft voice announced so close that warm breath tickled Grell's ear.
Grell gasped and spun around only to see an angel standing far too close for comfort. "How did you know what I was thinking?" she managed to ask, as she narrowed her eyes to closely examine the white-winged, heavenly creature.
At first glance, the angel appeared to be an attractive woman with a slender build. She had silvery blonde hair that fell just past her shoulder in soft waves and ice blue eyes, but Grell knew that angels could control and alter their physical appearance. "Some angels have different abilities," she answered, her comforting and somewhat maternal smile never leaving her face, "Just as some reapers do. You know something about that, do you not?"
Grell knew that the angel was referring to her own ability to alter her own appearance. While it wasn't unheard of among reapers, Grell had a natural ability and talent that surpassed the most experienced elders. Of course, even Grell was limited as she couldn't change the shape of her own body, but she had no desire to dwell on that issue at the moment. "Why are you here?" Grell demanded. She moved a few steps back as she readied her chainsaw. Her old, sharp-toothed friend had already been in her grasp while waiting for the child to die, but she was prepared to use sooner if it was necessary.
The angel laughed melodiously. "You don't need to fear me," she said, "I am here to comfort the mother of the child whose soul you were sent here to reap. She is a godly woman, and I have come to answer one of her prayers tonight. Her other prayer was for her child to live, but, as we both know, the child's fate had already been determined." She tilted her head slightly as few strands of hair shifted to cover one eye slightly. "You may call me Ivory."
"I wasn't planning on calling you anything," Grell mumbled as she turned back to watch the child.
Ivory laughed the same sweet laugh. "I know you are the grim reaper known as Grell Sutcliff," she stated, "You're not exactly unknown even among the angels because of a few unfortunate…deeds." Ivory paused slightly, and Grell suppressed a laugh. It was odd to see an angel act so uncertain, but Grell supposed that her past could give anyone reason to pause. "But I approached you," Ivory finally continued, "Because of those peculiar thoughts that were running through your mind a few minutes ago. You were curious as how things would be if you were the one dying of that rare disease. What was it called? Thorns of Death? Anyway, I think I could arrange that for you."
"Arrange what?" demanded Grell.
"It has been fated that a reaper will die of the Thorns," Ivory explained, "but that doesn't mean it has to be any particular reaper. It only has to be a reaper in general. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
This time Grell didn't even attempt to hold back as she threw back her head and laughed madly up towards the night sky. After a minute, she lifted her glasses slightly and wiped a stray tear away from her eye – delighted to note that the angel looked positively horrified. "And everyone acts like I'm crazy," Grell said, "Maybe I am curious how everyone would act if I was the one dying, but I'm not going to give away my life to find out." Just as she finished speaking, her sensitive ears heard the child she had been watching take her last breath. "Now, if you excuse me I have a job to do."
Without another word, Grell leapt forward into the open air as she effortlessly created a portal. A second later, she landed in the room next to the child's bed and quickly glanced around. The mother was sitting a little off to one side, sobbing quietly, but apparently she or someone else in this house had already come to terms with the fact the girl was probably going to die that night. The few pictures on a nearby table were already facedown and a heavy black cloth had been thrown over the single mirror. Almost casually, Grell revved the chainsaw, bringing it to life, and brought it down unto the chest of a child so the records could spill into the air. The action that would have undoubtedly looked brutal if the mother could have seen it.
"You would be like a beautiful, tragic heroine," an all too familiar voice proclaimed, "remembered throughout all of time. Wouldn't that be nice? Wouldn't it be nice to never be forgotten?"
Grell glanced over her shoulder and saw that Ivory had positioned herself beside of the mother and had wrapped her wings about the grieving woman. In truth, it would be nice to be eternally remembered, but Grell wasn't about to openly admit that to the angel. She bared her sharp teeth and allowed her green-yellow eyes to take on a dangerous glint. "Are you still here?" she asked in a tone of false calmness, "I wouldn't stand too close. I tend to get a little reckless at times and it would be such a shame if I were to accidentally clip your wings." She swung her chainsaw for emphasis as she spoke.
Ivory didn't budge nor did she seem the least bit frightened. "I'm only making this offer because I like to help others, and you need my help. How do you think you'll be remembered now? At best, you'll be thought of as a freak but that's only until you've been forgotten, and that's really the worst part. Is there any point of existence if you're never remembered? How does anyone even know if you ever lived if you're forgotten?"
Those words did hit a little too close to Grell's fears, but she only stood calmly as she watched the record of the short life of the child on the bed. "Nothing to note," she mumbled to herself, stamping the file and collected the record. Glancing over her shoulder, she made her sure her mask of indifference was in place before speaking to Ivory. "Go sell your spiel to someone else," she said, "because I'm not buying it." She turned to create a portal so that she could go home. She needed to rest and forget all about this night.
"Wait!" Ivory called, "Please hear me out. I have one final offer then."
Grell knew that she should leave, but despite her mind instructing her to leave this house and forget all about this insistent angel, she paused. "Okay," she agreed, "What is it?" She crossed her arms in a rather bored manner.
"Go home and sleep," Ivory stated, and Grell couldn't help but wonder if she was reading her mind again. "Don't decide now with your words. Decide while you slumber so your thoughts are unclouded by needless worries. If you still think everything is at it should be, then nothing will have changed. You will remain healthy and your friend will die."
Grell shook her head and her hair whipped about her like a red veil. "It won't do any good for me to think about it my sleep," she said, "I'm not changing my mind." With those words, she created the portal and returned back to her own realm. As the portal closed behind her, however, she heard the final words of the angel drift through as if carried by an unseasonably cool breeze in the heat of summer.
"Just think about what I said. Don't decide with only your mind, but let your heart have a say in the matter as well. Think of the good it will do and how much you will learn. Think of how you will be remembered."
"Crazy angel," Grell mumbled as she ran a hand through her hair. Tired both physically and mentally, she slowly made her way to the apartment. Maybe after a good night's sleep, she could forget all about Ivory and her ridiculous offer.