Just a little 'before the story you actually came here to read' thing:
Thank you to those of you who favorited, followed, and commented!
I'm quite grateful, especially being a new(er) writer.
And with that, on with the show!
September 23
01:13:28 PM
A million thoughts ran through William T. Spears' brain as he heard Ronald speak.
Was Grell hurt? How badly? Surely he'd live…he is a grim reaper after all. Born from death, it wasn't the easiest to eradicate one. He needed to get to his subordinate fast, not because it was Grell Sutcliff…no, because he was technically responsible - to an extent - for what happens out in the field to his reapers. Not to mention the fact that he was already dealing with another medically incapacitated reaper.
"Lets go, then. I'm guessing he's just returned to the dispatch, yes?" Staring Ronald in the eye, William focused only on covering the fear and concern in his voice with the twang of annoyance and bitterness. It seemed to have worked, given the slight cringe delineated by the junior. William didn't want to care, or maybe he did. The Grell he used to know in the academy had been nothing like the Grell he knew now; something had changed dramatically. For the past century (give or take a few decades) he had been wondering about what had impacted him so much to change his entire demeanor.
"No, sir. He hash't returned yet. He disappeared off of the map…right when he was surrounded by….by the.." The blonde glanced down, his breath catching as he tried to speak the words nobody wanted to hear, especially William, seeing his ever apparent hatred of the species concerned. The younger reaper took a few breaths, feeling the heavy gaze glaring down upon him awaiting an answer. "The demons. At least five of them." The next thing he knew, William had already transported away from his sight. He thought it best to not go to the same place. Quite honestly, Ronald didn't want to know whether Grell, his senior and mentor, was alive or dead. He wanted to remember the bright, outgoing man who had just talked to him this morning. And they would talk later tonight as well, just like they always did, right?
Wrong.
Having the experience and common sense of teleportation, William waited a second before dashing off to the board room. He had been there before, but never in a situation such as this one. Realizing that he probably looked and seemed completely out of sorts, he took a few moments to calm himself down and put on his typical stern, uninterested face outside the door before turning the handle and swiftly walking inside.
"Has he come up?"
The team knew exactly what he was talking about, and had an answer that he would appreciate. "Yes, he was off the grid for almost three minutes, but he is back on now. It looks to be as though he is fighting the demons, and as I know you are aware of, it is not a good idea."
"Send at least five of the elite reapers to his location. Do not allow him to stay and fight any further. He must have significant injuries, taking on that many at a time. Go. Now!" William could easily be labeled by any of the surrounding reapers as stressed, the lines on his forehead creasing with every glance down through his orthodox spectacles. Following his orders, the tracking department of reapers focused their attentions to sending the best reapers - who were available - to Vandon Passage, the alleyway where the attack had occurred. Within minuets a team was sent to the location, and the seconds ticked by agonizingly slow in the now silent room. That is, until the screen began blinking. Grell was transporting back to the dispatch.
The redheaded shinigami stumbled through the doorway on the third level of the dispatch. A confound Leanne jumped from her desk to help him, noticing that he was covered in what seemed to be blood. It was matted into his hair, soaking through his normally pressed and crisp white shirt, staining it a scarlet color not far off from the hue of his hair. It was then that she realized the blood was his own, upon looking at his arms, leg, and ripped shirt. A loud thunk pulled her from the focus and shock of the sight before her; the chainsaw Grell had been holding fell to the ground as his strength weakened. The young reaper knew she had to find help. Fast.
"Mr. Sutcliff! Are you alright? I need to get you to the clinic immediately."
"Me..? Ah, no need for that. I'm just fine, a little sleepy is all…"
And with that, he collapsed to the floor, unconscious, not breathing, completely still. Leanne rushed to her desk, calling the doctors with a frantic voice, not taking an eye off of Grell the entire time. It was only her first year at the job, and she hadn't exactly signed up for being responsible for an injured reaper. A pair of doctors came promptly, carefully moving Grell's body onto a stretcher and transporting back to the hospital wing of the building. The brunette stood there shaking, not completely able to wrap her head around the situation. He should have healed himself, right? But the man she saw was far from healed. His gaunt face, stunning green eyes, crimson red. The drops of blood that had fallen from the reaper's body were visible on the pale grey carpet near the desk. The small reaper went to the phone again, this time calling William's ambulatory phone, and telling him everything that had happened. Surely he would be on his way to the hospital immediately.
"He's in surgery right now, Mr. Spears. I cannot permit you to see him." Doctor Michael Jensen told William as he nearly sprinted into the wing.
"Will he be able to return to his duties?" From what he had heard his assistant say, Grell had not been in very good condition, not to mention the fact that he wasn't healing himself. William took a moment to think about why he cared so much about this reaper. Sure, he would be worried about any other reaper, because less people working meant overtime for him, and he couldn't have any more of that. It was not an option. No, Grell was special. William hated himself for having thought this, but it was true.
"Mr. Sutcliff is a rare case. We have only seen a few with injuries to the extent of his, and he also was not healing them himself. The only reason for this is that his subconscious brain did not want him to heal, and wanted him to die, and without his cooperation, I am afraid to say he will. Our surgeons are the best around, and I have full faith that they will perform their duties adequately without complication, but whether or not Grell is willing to heal is what makes all the difference." Gesturing to the clipboard that he was holding, the doctor begins to tell William the chances of survival based on what injuries had been endured. "Grell has received three major wounds to the chest with his own scythe. Scythe wounds are fatal, and these have cut deep into the chest and abdomen area. I am surprised he stayed conscious as long as he did, to be honest. He also received head injuries, one of them possibly having broken a nerve in the brain. The operation that the surgeons are doing has him being X-rayed for any signs of nerve damage, and if there is, we will have to make an incision across his head to get to the area in which the nerve is. If he survives and is able to return to his normal self, I will consider it a miracle."
"When will he be out of surgery?"
"About 10 minutes. But, he will not be responsive to any speaking or motion. It is better if he is left to heal, hopefully he will, for a few hours. I can call your office when it is alright to come down."
"Yes, please do. Thank you, and thank your surgeons for what they are doing." William left the clean, sterile room and went back to his office, quickly speaking with Leanne beforehand and making sure that she was still able to work after seeing what she did. After that, he couldn't keep his mind focused on paperwork, it was too difficult. He scrawled through mistakes and corrected them as he did any other day, but his mind kept wandering to the past. 'That was then, not now. Let it go.' He told himself these words many times, and eventually he was able to focus. That is, until his phone rang.
Leanne's voice rang through crisp and clear, "Mr. Spears, I have a call from Doctor Jensen waiting on the line."
"Direct him here immediately. Thank you." The seconds ticked by almost agonizingly slow as the doctor's phone was redirected.
"Mr. Spears, he is not awake or responsive to anything as of yet, but if you would like, you may visit, and I can tell you the details of the surgery." The doctor seemed almost..happy. This was a good thing, hopefully. After hanging up the phone, William finished the last set of paperwork neatly and without error, closed the file, and set off for the hospital wing.
So, I must apologize for not having been updating this story like I thought I would. I was like "oh yeah, every week! No problem!"
But that was until I realized I have a job and actual things to do...
I have not forgotten about this though, I promise!
~Jenna~
