Shadow of a Life

Chapter 1:

William sat uncomfortably in his seat at the heavy, oak table, but wouldn't allow any expression to grace his face that would show his discomfort. He simply sat there as he looked at the two evaluators who were going over his reports; their silence only occasionally broken by a whispered remark between them. A small part of William wanted to yell at them to get to the point, but his mouth remained closed and set in a neutral position. A single bead of sweat had gathered between his shoulder blades and had begun to creep down his spine like a crawling insect, but he made no move to scratch or wipe it away as he waited for any comment from either of the evaluators. The two almost looked like a set of twins both with their dark, perfectly groomed hair and nondescript glasses and black suits, but William recognized that he was seeing almost a reflection of himself in the two men as he probably would have when looking at any other member of management. Finally, the slightly taller of the two looked at him and prepared to speak.

"It looks like your department is fairly well in order," the evaluator said in a flat tone, "There has even been signs of improvement since your files were last examined, although that it is to be expected considering the circumstances surrounding your previous review."

"Yes, sir," William replied. There had been an emergency evaluation after the Jack the Ripper incident, and William had serious concerns that he was going to be demoted after that debacle. He had sat and sweated in this very room for hours after that, listening to how he was ultimately to blame for any of his subordinates' actions. Finally, they had released him with a minor pay cut and a warning that if any such events were repeated he would be more harshly punished.

"Your agents also seem to be doing with both their assigned reaps and paperwork," added the stone-faced evaluator, his eyes hidden by the glare of the harsh lighting reflecting on his lenses, "but do you believe any have room for improvement?"

"There is always room for improvement," William automatically answered.

The evaluator who had not spoken yet made a soft noise that could been one of agreement. "That's true," stated the other man, "but allow me to reword the question. Which of your subordinates has the worst record?"

William briefly considered the question, but he already knew there could only be one answer. "Sutcliff, although he has improved greatly as of late and actually has the one of the better completion records." There was no denying that Grell's past deeds was a definite black mark on his employee reports, but William had felt it important to note that he was doing better. Although he hadn't said anything as Grell could turn even the most innocent compliment into a perverse innuendo, he was aware that Grell was putting forth more effort.

"He was the one who was involved in the killing of mortals that were not on the to-die list?" asked the second evaluator. His voice wasn't as emotionless as his counterpart and Will could hear an edge of disgust in his tone.

"Yes," William answered calmly, "He was the one involved in that incident, although he has been punished for those actions. Since returning to active fieldwork, he has been more efficient and competent."

The evaluator made another indistinguishable noise from low in his throat, but he didn't respond with any understandable words as his partner took over the conversation. "So you would say that Sutcliff has the worst record of any of your field agents?"

"Yes," William agreed, "but, as I stated previously, he has shown vast improvement."

"Duly noted," stated the evaluator, "This will conclude this review. I see no reason not to recommend your pay to be increased to his previous grade. Good day to you, Mr. Spears."

"Thank you," William said as he stood up and left the room. When the heavy, plain door closed behind, he briefly let out a breath that he had been holding before shoving all his emotions down deep inside once more. With a face set in granite, he walked swiftly back to the dispatch floor.

There had been changes made rather recently. At one time, most of the reapers had their own office or one that they shared with one or two other agents, but Upper Management felt that they needed to work more closely together to instill a feeling of teamwork, so now their workspace was one large, open area filled with desks. William had the only actual office, and it was a sign that, while he was supervisor, he technically was no longer a part of their department as he had moved beyond just being a simple field agent.

Most everyone was hard at work, although a few were gathered around the water cooler, but even they hurried back to their desks when they saw William approaching. He stood for a brief moment, staring out at the sea of desks and was pleased at the constant noise of clacking typewriter keys and the scratching of pens on paper. Without saying a word, he made his way into his own office and closed the door. It was quiet here for this was his sanctuary. Here was he was in control.

Feeling better now that his evaluation was finally behind him, he made his way behind his large desk and quietly began to work though the papers that had started to accumulate. Time passed steadily, and William's nerves had calmed considerably, when his door suddenly swung open and slammed into the wall. He jumped slightly, but he wasn't all that surprised to see Grell framed in the doorway, but he wasn't accustomed to see the anger on the redhead's face that seemed to be directed towards him. While it wasn't a secret that Grell had quite a temper, he rarely got mad at William no matter the circumstances.

"You are supposed to knock before entering my office, Sutcliff," William said calmly while still puzzling over the reason for his anger.

"How could you do it?" Grell demanded, stomping to the desk as if he hadn't even heard what William had said. "Seriously, how could you?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific," William said, "I have no idea what it is you think that I've done."

Grell laughed bitterly. "Don't play dumb, dear," he retorted, "It doesn't suit you. You know exactly what you've done. You referred me to that new Reaper Reform Agency."

William blinked a few times as he tried to make sense out of Grell's words. "I don't understand what you mean," he finally managed.

Again, Grell didn't seem to listening as began to pace back and forth. "This is a new low," he said, "I mean, I've really tried. I did everything you told me to do and tried to play the part of good little employee, but I can't believe you would do this." He stopped pacing and moved back towards the desk. Laying both his palms flat on the surface, Grell leaned forward and William could see behind all the rage there were tears causing his normally luminous eyes to look watery. "Is this your way of telling me how much you hate me?" he demanded, his voice hitching slightly.

"I didn't refer you to the Reaper Reform Agency, Sutcliff," William stated calmly, "I was asked during my evaluation which of the field agents had the worst record, and you cannot deny that you fall into that category."

"But why would you do that?" Grell demanded, "Just because they asked you that, why would you give them my name?"

William adjusted his glasses as he stared at Grell steadily. "Because it is the truth," he answered plainly, "I did not, however, intend to refer you to that agency."

"So, are you going to tell them that I don't need to go?" Grell asked.

There was a pause as William considered the matter. "I did not refer you," he finally said, "but you cannot deny that you have the worst record, and you still could improve. If the evaluators thought you needed to be referred, that was their decision and not mine. I am not in the place to question their recommendations."

Grell stepped back and crossed his arms across his chest. "This isn't fair," he said simply, "And you know that." He turned with a swish of his beloved red coat and swiftly made his way back to the door. Pausing in the doorway, he turned partially to look at William one final time before leaving.

"I think I misjudged you, William," he said in an oddly calm voice, "I thought you were strong and in control, but you just as much a puppet as any of the higher-ups. Maybe it's a good thing that I learned that."

With those words said, Grell left much more quietly than he had entered, closing the door almost gently behind him and leaving William with the shattered remains of his previous peace and quiet. "I only did what was required of me," he said as if addressing the closed door.

Of course, there was no answer.

((x))

It was late when William finally arrived home and he felt immediate relief the moment he stepped inside his apartment. Everything was just as he left it – perfectly arranged with everything in its proper place, but he hadn't expected any less. With a soft sigh, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him as the familiar, plain surroundings embraced him in comforting yet cold hug.

His first actions were always the same. Walking to his bedroom, he removed both his jacket and his shoes. The footwear was positioned in the bottom of the closet as the jacket was placed discreetly in a hamper. He didn't undress any further except to loosen his tie and slip on a pair of house shoes. As a supervisor, he was perpetually on-call and had to be ready at a moment's notice, or at least that was his excuse. In truth, he owned very little clothing that weren't business attire, which he couldn't deny as his eyes scanned over his sparse belongings that barely took up half the space in his closet. The same couldn't be said for the closets of some of the other reapers because he had seen inside of Grell's closet once when he had been persuaded to step inside of his apartment under false pretenses. The redhead's closet had been so full of seemingly pointless yet expensive items, it was a struggle just to close the door properly.

Realizing that he had allowed his thoughts turn back to Grell, he quickly shut the closet as if physically trying to shut the door on that particular line of thinking and turned away just as the soft sound of flapping wings reached his ears. Something that might have described as a slight small graced William's face as a small, grey pigeon flew into the room and landed deftly on his shoulder.

"Hello, Rosalind," greeted William, as he gently scratched beneath her chin, "Did you have a good day today?"

As if answer, Rosalind nuzzled the side of his neck as he turned and walked back into the kitchen. It was the time for William's typical evening meal, and the food was already prepared and waiting in his refrigerator. He liked to have all his meals prepared several days in advance so there was never a question as to what to eat. As he retrieved his meal, however, this time he paused slightly as he stared at all of the perfectly packaged meals. Each one was in a uniform container and each one was perfectly healthy and portioned.

Perfectly boring.

"It was a tiring day for me," William continued, "It is always quite stressful to be evaluated, although the progress of the department has been recognized."

Rosalind regarded him with her dark eyes, but there was no judgement shimmering in the deep irises. This was comforting to William for he felt as if he had already faced enough judgement. "Something else happened as well," he added, "I was asked to give the name of the collections agent with the worst record. Of course, that was Sutcliff, but the evaluators decided to use that as a referral to the Reaper Reform Agency."

Adjusting his glasses, Will looked down at the food setting on the counter. It had always been more of an appropriate food than appetizing dish, but now his stomach turned as if rejecting the meal before he had even attempted to consume the first bite. "I feel as if I was set up," he admitted, finally giving a voice to the thoughts that had been tumbling about in his head, "They simply asked for the name of the worker with the worst record, and I even told them that Sutcliff has improved. Never once was a transfer mentioned."

Returning the food to the fridge, he walked into the living room to sit on a brown couch. Rosalind hadn't stirred during all this as she simply set on William's shoulder and appeared to listen to his words.

"Of course Sutcliff could improve," continued William, "so their decision was not totally unfounded. Grell has more raw talent and potential that most. Perhaps this reform agency could help him to gain the focus and the control he still lacks."

The silence in the apartment was almost palpable as William stared without seeing out a large window across from his couch. "It could help him," he finally reiterated, "but he has shown improvement on his own. Honestly, it makes little sense to punish him after he has already been punished, and he does seem to be trying to do better."

Rosalind nuzzled him again, and he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to feed his only companion. Returning to the kitchen, he retrieved her special seed from the pantry and poured out the premeasured amount in a small dish. Her food was also prepared ahead of schedule with nutrition and value in mind, but she seemed to have far more appetite than he had as she began to eat.

"Sutcliff isn't scheduled to be transferred for a week," announced William, "so I will tell the evaluators that I don't feel he needs to go the reform agency and will point out his recent improvements once again. If they decide that it would still be in everyone's best interest that Grell go to this reform agency, and I'm not entirely convinced that this may be the case, then I will provide no further input on the matter. If it is decided that, based on my own feelings concerning punishment and recent improvement, that Grell should stay, I will only double my efforts to mold him into a more suitable agent. That seems like the best course of action. Wouldn't you agree, Rosalind?"

The plump little pigeon went about her own food happily, although it wasn't as if he had actually been expecting an answer. Just talking aloud to Rosalind made William feel better when he was faced with a difficult decision.

At least, it did most of the time.

((x))

Dispatch was eerily silent in the early morning, and William couldn't help but think that his shoes sounded impossibly loud echoing on the recently waxed floor. Typically, he liked being at the office before everyone else, despite his own complaints about overtime, because this was a time for him to get a start on his paperwork before the hustle and bustle of other employees made concentration nearly impossible, but today his mind was consumed with other thoughts. Even though he had made up his mind about what to do about Grell's impending, potential transfer, he still felt uneasy. No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn't deny that being sent to the reform agency might actually be beneficial. While William had never voiced the thoughts aloud, he was a bit envious of Grell's natural abilities, which exceeded his own. He couldn't help but think about the kind of career he would have made for himself if he was as talented in battle and reaping as Grell. At the same time, William still could not deny that Grell had made sincere efforts to do better nor could he blind himself to the hurt that had been so clearly stamped in the red reaper's eyes after the referral had been made. Giving his own recommendation that Grell be permitted to remain an active field agent in this office seemed like the best course of action and perhaps the only appropriate response to the situation.

This was all still running through his mind when he unlocked his door to step into his familiar office, but an envelope on the floor caught his eye, and he immediately recognized the flourished handwriting that spelled out his name. He had opened his door many times over the years to find some letter from Grell, but he somehow doubted this was a poetic declaration of love as he leaned over to retrieve envelope. There was a single sheet of paper inside, but Grell's few written words upon that page held a lot of weight.

William,

I thought that this final week before I'm to be sent away might be needlessly painful for the both of us, so I decided to simply leave for the Reaper Reform Agency.

Grell

This hadn't been something that William had been expecting, and he turned hurriedly from his office to look out over the rows and rows of desks. Grell's desk was in the far corner, and slightly larger than most of others although it's surface had been scratched and scarred. Grell had always had his desk in such a disarray, William had often wondered how Grell had ever managed to find anything, but now it was oddly bare and clear. There were no trinkets, no photographs, or even some ridiculous calendar. In fact, the only thing that remained that indicated that Grell had even used this desk by a streak of red nail polish staining the surface.

While William stood there, other workers begin to file in casually; most laughing and talking as if it was just any other day. They made their way to their own desks, but William couldn't help but notice that not a single one of them had even noticed Grell's recently cleared desk. He had never paid much attention, but it occurred to him that Grell might not have many friends in the office for it seemed he was often the subject of gossip but he rarely saw Grell socializing with many of his co-worker.

The only exception to that, Ronald Knox, entered the room. He had a big smile plastered on his face as usual as he talked, but the smile slipped slightly when his eyes happened upon Grell's desk. As William looked on, the younger reaper walked over to the desk and actually ran his hand over the rather abused surface. Confusion still passing over his features, he turned to a co-worker who happened to walking by at that moment. Even from this distance, William could hear him asking about Grell's whereabouts.

Of course, his colleague knew nothing about Grell's situation. Other than himself and the evaluators, Grell had been the only other one to have known, and it was apparent he hadn't discussed the situation with the others. On nimble feet, the news of Grell's cleared desk and thus his probable departure danced through the room, and William couldn't help but frown at a sudden burst of laughter from somewhere in the back, although it wasn't clear if it had anything to do with Grell.

"Mr. Spears, sir?" a hesitant voice nearby asked.

Turning, William saw that Ronald had approached him during the time the flames of gossiped where being fanned by all too eager tongues. "Yes, Knox?" William prompted.

"Do you know where Senior Sutcliff is today?"

William adjusted his glasses as he looked down at the blonde. "Yes," he answered, "He was transferred to the Reaper Reform Agency." He had briefly thought about being vaguer but feared that would only cause the gossip to grow even worse.

"What?" Ronald cried, "But that place is supposed to brainwash you or something! Why would you send him there?"

"Your tone is not appropriate for the workplace nor is it an acceptable way to speak to a supervisor," stated William, "Also, I ask you not to spread those mindless rumors that seem to fly so rampantly. No agency created by Upper Management would condone any sort of brainwashing. The Reaper Reform Agency is merely designed to help workers become more efficient and orderly. It should help Sutcliff to control his impulsive and rather chaotic nature."

"But, he's really been trying to do better," Ronald insisted, "I mean, he told me he's really been trying to impress you. It doesn't seem fair for you to refer him to that place now."

The news that Grell had been trying to impress him was rather shocking to William, but he shoved the feeling aside. "It is not an issue of fair," he said, "besides, if you must know, I was not the one who referred to him. The decision was made by the recent evaluators of our department."

"So could you tell that Grell doesn't need to go?" asked Ronald. His tone was rather humble, and William decided not to address the inappropriateness of his request at this moment.

"It is not my place," William answered, "and it's too late to do so even if I did feel that this wouldn't be beneficial to Sutcliff, of which I'm not entirely convinced. Sutcliff will return, and will hopefully be a better agent then he is currently. Your present concern should be reapings that have already been assigned to you. I do not need to remind you of the state of your own record at this point."

Ronald still looked surprised and hurt, but William didn't want to take the time to muse on such emotions as he turned back into his own office and shut the door. For better or worse, he had been entirely honest with the younger reaper about the situation, although he could have done without the reminder about the horrible rumors and stories that had been circulating since the opening of this new agency. It simply could not be as bad as the rumors stated. There was no way Upper Management would continue to allow such a travesty to exist.

Something else that stuck out in his mind was Ronald's statement that this wasn't fair. In truth, it probably wasn't fair since Grell had been diligently working and improving, but that wasn't William's concern.

After all, there were a lot of things that simply weren't fair.