First Cut

I'm glad that people are enjoying this! I cannot promise a massive length story but I do hope you continue to enjoy it. I can just see William and Annabelle going after Ronald and Grell, demanding that they follow the RUUUURUUUUS! In my head they really remind me of Scanty and Kneesocks.

And don't take anything the wrong way. I really love Grell but it's a little fun being mean to him!

Chapter 2

It was getting late in the day and William was ready to get a move on. He had picked a young woman, an Emily Miller, to follow. As her name was one of the first on his assigned list of souls to collect, he felt it would be the best place to start.

On his way out he passed Grell Sutcliff. Despite knowing he should just continue walking and pretending that he had never seen the red eyesore, he stopped. "What are you doing?"

Grell jumped in surprise. He had been leaning in front of a gold plaque, doing his hair in front of his makeshift mirror. "A girl has to look her best, Will!" he cooed.

Looking at the redheaded reaper over his glasses, William pointed out that there were plenty of mirrors in the building and that it made no sense to use a wall plaque when there were mirrors available.

Grell waved his remarks off with a gloved hand. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Grell asked, now making model-like faces towards his golden reflection. He winked once at his image and then turned his attention fully to William.

William stowed his death list in an inside pocket of his suit. "I have a job to do, Grell. As do you."

Grell placed his hands on his hips and sighed, blowing a strand of red hair away from his face. "Will," he began, "you are aware that we can do more than work, right?"

"I am," William told him. He scowled at Grell, opening his mouth to add something he had longed to say to Grell Sutcliff for quite some time. His mouth shut once he heard the sound of a throat clearing.

"Mr. Spears." Annabelle had come up behind the two of them and was standing at William's elbow. "I have received clearance from Mr. Daniels that I may "shadow" you on this assignment. Is that any issue with you?" she asked.

Grell watched her warily. Why was William getting a protege? A female protege at that. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned slightly. 'She's as stuffy as Will,' he thought. 'That must be why.' Still, he did not like it.

"I have no problems with it."

As William and Annabelle began to leave, Grell quickly formed an idea and jumped into action. "Wait, Will! How about I shadow you instead?" He whispered the word "shadow", his eyes twinkling with a small plot.

Before William could reply, Annabelle asked Grell, "Don't you have demons to chase?" Grell blinked at her, a confused expression on his face. "We have all heard about 'Sebast-chan'. Surely you know this."

Grell stood in the hallway fuming long after William and Annabelle had left. He reached into the pocket of his red jacket, pulling out his own assigned death list. "Maybe," he told himself, "I have an assignment near Will." With a small laugh to himself, Grell hurried out the door, wanting to make sure no woman came between him and his Will!

William and Annabelle, meanwhile, were in the heart of London near a small wooden inn. Emily Miller worked there during the day and slept in a small room in the attic. According to her file, she was living with a friend of her mother's as she and her parents had quarreled over the man she had dated.

The relationship did not last but Emily did not seem ready to go back to her parents.

The two of them were perched atop the building beside the inn, watching for any sign of the young woman. "It's a shame, really."

"Hmm?" William turned to Annabelle, nearly forgetting she had joined him. She had been silent the entire time, hanging onto the information she herself had typed up about Emily. William had watched her as she put on gloves to handle the papers, not wanting her ink-smudged fingertips to ruin the pages.

At that moment, she was perched on the chimney, the files spread out on her lap. She pointed to the paper, complete with a picture of their light-haired target. "She's not going to see her family again is she?"

"It is not our place to worry about that."

"I know. It is our job to go in, review her cinematic record, determine whether or not she lives or dies, write our reflection letter, and call it a day. All of that," she said, shutting the folder, "while remaining neutral."

"It will get easier. Have you never reaped before?"

Annabelle answered with a sort of half shrug. "We did do simulations of sorts in our classes. The idea, though, of a dozen of us following our teachers as they did their job was determined to be too..." she broke off, searching for the right word. "Obvious?" she asked. Despite it not being the word she had wanted, William nodded in understanding.

"It will get easier," he said again.

"Oh, isn't that her?" He looked in the direction Annabelle was pointing. From the back of the inn emerged a young woman, most likely in her late teens or early twenties. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, a basket of laundry balanced against her hip. They could faintly make out the sounds of her humming as she strung sheets on a line to dry.

At William's nod, the two leaped from the roof, landing in the alley below. Peering through holes in the wooden fence that surrounded the inn, the two reapers exchanged looks. William saw Annabelle move out of the corner of his eye. His lips twitched to a near smile as he realized she was making sure the training scythe he had acquired for her was still on her person.

"Wait," he told her. She nodded.

It was as though Emily sensed their presence. She turned, looking around, seeming to feel two sets of eyes on her. "Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?" Of course the woman received no response. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself and feeling a strange chill.

Emily no longer took care in hanging the sheets. She grabbed them as fast as she could, pinning them so they hung wildly. When the last sheet was up, she grabbed her basket and hurried up the back steps. Despite her slam of the door, the two Shinigami could hear her telling someone inside about an odd feeling she had.

"Was that our chance?" Annabelle asked, her hand resting against the small scythe under her suit jacket.

"You'll know."

Hours passed. It became clear that Emily was reluctant to head outside. As the sun started to set she finally reappeared at the front door, a piece of paper in her hands.

"Go on," a young man was saying, "we need those for breakfast tomorrow, hurry and get them."

"Are you sure you won't come, Reggie?" she asked.

Reggie chuckled. "There are no monsters. Nothing is lurking in the alley waiting to pounce. Well," he added with a smile, "if you hurry back it won't."

Emily whimpered and rushed down the stairs and down the road. She glanced down at the shopping list in her hand. Why had no one taken her suggestion of growing a small garden in the backyard? There was room for a garden, the clothing line, and possibly a small herb garden.

Unbeknownst to her, William and Annabelle were following her at a distance. William felt he knew what Annabelle was thinking. The silly girl should have learned to pay attention.

The road was full of people making their way to the market for dinner and hurrying home after work. Emily was jostled this way and that as she still stared at the list, her feet taking her where she needed to go.

When Emily finally chose to look up, it was too late. A small boy, clutching tightly to the food in his hands, was running from a bearded man, his apron stained, a large wooden spoon held in his hand. He shouted at the crowd to stop the boy, claiming he had stolen from his shop while he was signing for a new shipment of spices.

The boy knocked into Emily, sending her backwards. The man, going too fast to really stop himself, barreled into her, sending her crashing into the brick building behind her. The crowd of people, confused and unsure of whether or not to help her or the man chasing the boy, allowed the two reapers to slip in, William to cut Emily with his death scythe, and the two to slip into the shadows under an awning to review her memories and also keep an eye on her.

The two were greeted by the sight of an infant girl crying and shaking her fists. The scene changed to a small party, the blonde girl in a pink frilly dress as she observed her cake. Again the scene changed. The girl, now older, was in the yard with a man they assumed was her father. The two were grooming a horse and laughing. She grew older. Wearing a plain blue dress, she stood in front of her parents with a young man. The four argued and the girl stormed out. The last moment they saw was Emily's fear of something watching her and waiting as she hung up the bedsheets of the inn.

William calmly took the files from Annabelle. "Emily Miller, age nineteen. Blonde hair, grey eyes, an only child. Ran away from home at age 18. Today is June 14th, 1889. Cause of death: head trauma. No further notes." Annabelle handed him a small stamp. Once he stamped Complete on the page, Emily Miller moved no more. Without another word, the two Shinigami headed back to the office to file their reflection letter and report.