Undertaker sighed as he stood atop the parlour roof, engulfed in the shadows of the night time scene, his robes billowed around him and his hair flared like flickering white flames among the black coal of the sky. His eyes were closed in thought as he considered Grell's words to him, he had often wondered why death called so strongly to him, he thought perhaps he could have escaped it when he left the Dispatch but even then he had fallen into mortuary and undertaker work, still dealing with the dead. He could never escape the dead, their eyes glaring at him from all corners, their voices where soundless and cursing him for taking their souls and their hands groping towards repentance when they were doomed and marked for hell.

He had collected so many souls, one after the other without care or consideration for so very long, he had become desensitized to it all. Until that day. With a wince he held his face, the scar across there burning like wild fire as memories most painful surfaced to taught him and punish him. He gritted his teeth through the pain, knowing it would eventually fade as it always did at times like these. The pain only flared when the thought of the past, it was a stupid thing to do really, he couldn't change anything. Even so the souls continued to haunt him.

His eyes opened as he suddenly heard a high pitched feminine scream from inside the parlour and he flew from the room, pain forgotten in the heat of adrenaline as he rushed into the main room, eyes widening as he saw the door to his secret storeroom was hung open. He saw a flash of red through the doorway and shot forwards, running into the room and wrapping his arms around Grell, letting out a cry as his own creation's teeth clamped down on his shoulder, biting through his flesh with ease; crippling his muscles and breaking his bones.

Undertaker let out a shrill cry of pain before he elbowed the corpse in the head, breaking its neck and sending it pooled to the ground before he staggered and landed on one knee himself. He panted softly and held the wound with his hand, feeling sticky wetness of blood oozing through his clothes.

Grell stared at him in shock, his body shaking from a mixture of fear and anger, "W-What... WHAT WAS THAT THING?!" he yelled, hitting the white haired male over the head with his fist.

"Shhhh! Don't shout." he groaned, "We were lucky you haven't already woken the others."

"O-Others?!" he squeaked, instantly cowering down beside the ex-Reaper.

Undertaker glanced at the redhead before he swallowed weakly, "Help me into the backroom... I will... Explain everything if you wish to hear it."

The redhead hesitated for a moment but bit his lip and slid his arms around the other's waist, helping him stand and escorting him from the room, watching as the man sealed the room again and concealed the door back behind the coffin which had been knocked over previously.

The pair lurched into the back room and into the kitchen area where Undertaker instantly sank down onto the wooden stood there, with some help sliding out of his cloak and robes. Undertaker felt his stomach knot a little before he looked around to inspect the wound he had received. As expected it was nothing too pretty, blood gushing from the deep penetrating teeth marks; pieces of skin missing were it had been ripped out and he could tell from the discolouration of the skin that his muscles had been damaged, and then there was the deep set throb which told him his bones had been broken when the corpse had chomped down.

It was just another scar.

Grell trembled slightly as he looked a the wound, a swirl of excitement rising at the sight of the pearly red blood but his stomach churning at the sight of the missing flash and if he leaned over enough he could see down to the bone through some of those gaps.

"U-Unny... How can I help?" he asked weakly, having turned a little green.

"Fill that bowl with boiling water, there's a needle and thread in my robes, put them both in the water for a few minutes to make them sterile. Then wet some cloth for me and pass it over." he instructed in a highly professional manner despite the pain.

"R-Right." the redhead squeaked before he set to do what he had been told, for once rather pleased to be following orders as it saved him paying attention to the growing sick feeling in his gut, and the memory of that creature in the other room.

The white haired ex-Reaper murmured his thanks as everything he had asked for was delivered to him and he picked up the wet cloth, gently pressing it over the wound, there was a flicker of pain on his face yet something nostalgic in his eyes to say he had done this before. Grell watched on, biting his manicured red nails nervously, hoping he would not be asked to help but at the same time wanting to do just that.

"What was that thing? Undertaker?" he asked after a moment, unable to keep the question locked away for any longer.

It took the mortician several moments to answer, the sound of the cogs working in his brain was almost audible to Grell as he saw the other's eyes glaze over in deep concentration, "Death is so final, you know? It brings an abrupt end to its sibling."

"Sibling? You mean life?"

"Of course." he sighed softly, setting the cloth down before he picked up the needle and thread and twisted so he could see what he was doing, "Could life be restarted once the soul is gone? That's what I asked myself, could I reanimate the dead? Would they retain their memories? Would they be human or something else? Was the cutting of the cinematic record truly the end?"

Grell frowned slightly, cringing as he watched the other male stitching his skin shut again, "You... Created him?"

"Them, dear Grell, them." he corrected softly, wincing a little at the burning prickle of the needle as it passed it through his skin, "A question. And a patron. That's all it took for me to fall further than before."

Unsure of what he was being told, the redhead slowly walked a little closer, kneeling down in front of the mortician and resting his hands on his knees, looking up with a confused expression. It caused Undertaker to pause for a moment sighing heavily, there was no smile on his face now, no joy or laughter just sorrow.

"A year ago, or more I cannot recall..." he looked away as he continued stitching his skin, "I created the first of my Dolls, a young woman with blonde hair and green eyes, she was run over my a carriage, her body was brought to me and I ran my usual tests and checks, got ready to patch her up and then realised no one would miss her... No one would check the coffin... Who was to say her body was inside and not somewhere else?"

"So you stole her body?"

"Yes, and performed the necessary experiments to answer my questions. By creating an artificial cinematic record and fixing it onto the end of her old one her life restarted. She was by no means human, she was something else; something new and unexplained. She had no vital signs, no pulse; heartbeat; no conscious thought... Only one carnal desire."

Grell gulped, "What was it?"

"Hunger. She had no soul, it had already be taken away by the Reaper who designated her for death, so she hungered for one, and thinking by consuming the flesh of the living she might recover a soul that is what she did. She killed six people before I was able to stop her, and it was through that Viscount Druitt discovered what I was doing and requested a part in it."

"Druitt? That awful man who was suspected to be involved in the Ripper case?"

"Yes, he s awful but he was able to give aid. I still needed answers, I needed to know if I could train them, help them, stop them being to hungry. But at the same time he desired an army of creatures who couldn't feel pain or regret, an army that sought only the devastation of anything placed in front of them. So he began paying me to make more Dolls." Undertaker cut the thread and washed his stitched skin a final time before standing and cleaning up.

He dare not look at Grell's face for shame, and fear of what he might see there. Whether it was hate or understanding it would make no difference to his shame. He had been bought like a servant for his abilities and was being treated no less than a slave to Druitt's will. Even if he desired to stop making the Dolls he couldn't for the Viscount had a hold over him that he could explain to no one. And never would. The memory too bitter and full of pain to look back upon he would take it to his grave when he finally found one willing to keep him.

"Unny?" Grell whispered, reaching out slowly and resting a feminine hand over the other's, "Unny?"

"Hmm?" the ex-Reaper looked around slowly, reluctantly, surprised by the amount of conflict he saw in the redhead's face.

"Can't you stop making them?"

"No... No I can't, regrettably. If I could then I would. But I can't Grell."

He looked down at that and sighed, "I see... Do you want to?"

Undertaker closed his eyes and gave a sad smile, "Yes and no. They are my creations, my Dolls who have become like children... But they are also monstrous murdering brutes who I can barely control. If I was able to find a way to keep them in better control I might be happier with them but at the moment they are just hungry animals on a breaking leash."

"You feel sorry for them?"

"Of course. I keep making them this way, the wrong way. If only I could figure out what to do to change it... To give them sanity or control... But I can't find the way, I can't do it right, I keep doing it wrong. It drives me to distraction, to insanity on so many levels. And anger." he sighed and looked down into the sink thoughtfully.

Grell bit his bottom lip and leaned forwards, resting his head against the other's shoulder, realising suddenly that Undertaker had killed one of his 'children' in order to protect him and he had done so unflinchingly and without hesitation. He looked up slowly and saw the expression on his face, it sent a cold shudder down his spine to see this crazy, funny clown of a man without his grin and without his giggle.

"Hey... How do you make Holy Water? You b-boil the hell out of it!" the redhead said suddenly, closing his eyes as he waited for Undertaker to gag him like he had gagged Madam Red and Lau in the past, instead he was greeted by a loud round of rambunctious laughter; he slowly opened his eyes, his cheeks flushing as he saw Undertaker had thrown his head back and was well and truly letting rip with his laughter.

The ex-Reaper finally calmed down and smiled slightly, resting his hand on the other's head and ruffling his hair gently, "Thank you, dear, I needed that." he murmured, his eyes were still a little solemn but they had some mirth in them again.

"Y-You're welcome! And don't think you're off the hook mister, your bloody creation tried to eat me, thank you very much." he said, flustered by the affection he was being shown.

"I do apologise for that. To be fair though, had you not been so nosy you wouldn't have been in danger." Undertaker grinned, winking slightly.

"Oh you cheeky little-" he broke off as his face went scarlet and he felt Undertaker's surprisingly softly lips on his forehead, "Hhnnn..."

"Thanks for your help Kitten." he whispered before he stepped around the redhead and went off to dispose of the body of his ruined Doll.

Grell turned and watched him walk away, swallowing slightly as he lifted his hand and touched his forehead where he had been kissed, biting his bottom lip and wiggling slightly before he giggled and went the same colour as his hair in the face, doing a small jump of excitement.

Undertaker sighed as he ventured back into the 'secret' room and crouched down, turning over the crumpled body of his re-dead-undead creation, "I'm sorry." he murmured, "But I couldn't let you hurt him dear, anyone but him. I hope you can forgive me for being such a bad master." he said softly, cracking his neck back into place and watching as his Doll started to come back to undead-life once more, "You have to sleep again, it is not yet time for you to wake. Gregory. Sleep once again, you can wake when you reach the continent."

He lifted the Doll and carried him back to hi coffin, laying him inside and strapping him down before he tapped into his Reaper powers and sent him back into a coma-like sleep. Undertaker lowered the lid of the casket back down and buckled it shut, hoisting it back up to hang beside his brothers and sisters.

The ex-Reaper then sagged against the wall, holding his newest battle scar and closing his eyes, Druitt's people would arrive to pick up the newest batch of Dolls within the next few days. And then he would have to begin the monthly process all over again, collecting the bodies, severing the cinematic records, replacing and renewing the cinematic records, repairing damage to the body... It was exhausting, he wanted nothing more than to have a break. But he couldn't. It had to be done and he had no choice but to work to the grave in order to comply to Druitt's wishes.

Oh what he had gotten himself into this time.