Tehehe, hello there! Now finally, finally, finally we get to some little one-on-one action between those two. Just a little... :)

Thank you for the nice and encouraging comments so far. It took some time to get to the real core of the story but now it eventually begins to get (at least I hope so) interesting. ^.^

Eisteufel


Chapter IV

A Touch of Blue


With a faint thud Grell's heels alighted on the slippery cobblestone pavement of the deserted High Street after he had been forced to jump down the rooftop by two surprisingly strong arms, which had just dragged him down with them into the abyss. He could still feel the stinging pain where razorblade like nails had worked its way into his upper arm flesh like glass splinters.

From afar a well-known melodic bell-ringing reached his ears. It was midnight already.

To be completely honest, the blood red reaper did not know what to do now at all.

This whole situation seemed so outright weird, strange and unreal... and to make things even worse it slipped more and more out of his control with every further elapsed second.

How could things just take such a terribly wrong turn? he asked himself pitifully.

By now he rather should have been celebrating his first real, successful reaping with lots of champagne and friendly chatter instead of facing his bloodless, blue-eyed failure. He could already picture the dismissive face of William goddamn T. Spears and his mocking saying of how right he was to reject Grell as an exam partner in the first place, as soon as he would return to the Dispatch Office – hanging his pretty head in bitter shame because he hadn't reaped but a single soul tonight.

And that would exactly be the very case very soon since he would - under no circumstances - degrade himself even further while this old Death over there was about to roll on the floor in manic laughter because of him.

Resigned Grell's yellow gaze wandered over the street and though he fought it as hard as he could, his eyes simply couldn't withstand being glued to one particular thing.

Although Grell didn't want to he just could not resist this sickening inner urge to get closer to the body of John Mills who was staring at him accusingly with these lifeless, frozen azure eyes of his which slowly became an ungainly greyish touch. It hit him like a train.

Clearly audible Grell hawked to clear his sandpaper dry throat before he had the courage to ask the question which felt like a several ton weighting stone on his chest. He bowed down to the corpse, reluctantly touching an ice-cold cheek.

"So his memories…"

He interrupted himself, not even knowing if his fellow was actually listening to him. A slight rustle of cloth was all he got for reassurance that his companion hadn't disappeared out in a haze.

"What exactly happens if the Records are destroyed?"

Silence. Only the silent rustling of clothes again and the faint clicking sound of readjusted glasses.

"They are lost. Forever."

The utterly soft voice said these words with such definiteness and indifference at the same time that it raised Grell's hackles. Tasting the upcoming feeling of disgust in his mouth he got up to his feet quickly before the silvery haired man continued airily:

"The reaping couldn't be completed correctly. Of course the boy is dead but if the Reaper isn't able to collect the Records – because they were destroyed by for example an immensely hot burning fire or because they have been cut into really small pieces, then..."

Suddenly and completely out of nowhere the slender black figure appeared right next to Grell's side, looking at him face to face with a stern expression.

"Well I think you can guess what happens then, don't you?" he whispered sharply.

Grell clenched his fists tight while biting his lower lip unconsciously. With a haunted streak around his mouth he was avoiding stoically the interrogating green gaze and the proximity of the delicately featured yet badly scarred face when he mumbled:

"If the Records aren't collected they can't be turned into Books of Doomsday and stored in the Library. It is like he... like his soul had never existed in the first place..." he shivered involuntarily.

Bloody cold tonight...

"But can't we try to restore them? Is there no way?"

It startled him how pleadingly his own voice echoed in his ears. His counterpart just snickered lowly.

"No my dear, I'm afraid once something is truly lost there is no way to ever get it back again. It will never return."*

He had to swallow hard. So it really was definite.

"I'm trying to find my scythe then!" Grell almost squealed, desperately trying to get away from the body, that maddening, knowing green gaze and the upcoming very distressing feeling of rising discomfort.

Ignoring the surprised look he received, Grell passionately turned his attention towards the snow covered ground. He had to think clearly. Clearly for heaven's sake! He tried to remember the last moments before his head had hit the pavement and he had lost hold over his scythe.

Where was that…? I was standing towards the boy when I fell so it was... somewhere under that street light I guess…

He let his glance roam while seeking for the right memories.

The clatter of heels behind him made him startle up. Something tipped lightly onto his shoulder - the small blade of his own trainee scythe instantly popped into his field of vision as Grell turned his head.

"I doubt that this will be of any help anymore," his companion stated in a pragmatic manner, holding up the dissipated pieces of Grell's Death Scythe in withhold amusement while its owner could clearly see with utter terror that the wooden handle was neatly cut into half.

"Sharp little beasts, these Records I guess," Grell hissed constrained, fighting the unsettling thought that this torn apart handle easily might have been his body.

"I can still remember a time when these trainee scythes were made of better quality," a tired sigh escaped a clean-cut mouth and with a disapproving look the older Death God was inspecting the slightly splinted wood, appearing completely appalled by its cheap workmanship. Holding them with just two fingers, the broken pieces dangled now in front of his contemptuous looking eyes.

"And they definitely were bigger."

Just exactly how old is this guy if he remembers a time when every trainee got a full-blown Death Scythe to practise with?

"Well then, it can't be helped," the elder Reaper finally let go off the pieces and within the blink of an eye a little black book with frilly pink floral ornaments manifested right in front of Grell's nose. Thin fingers grasped it and swiftly flipped the pages.

"Ah here it is~!" a triumphantly giggle could be heard. "As I remembered correctly there is a reaping to be done within the next hour. But you just can't do it with this thing," green eyes glared scornful at the Death Scythe puzzle to his feet.

"So try if you can handle this."

With a loud, echoing impact the solid metal handle of the enormous scythe hit the ground only centimetres away from Grell's toes. He felt like he had completely lost his tongue just by a mere look at the heavy tool.

"There… there is no way I could possibly wield... this!"

An amused laughter escaped the man who was holding the impressive soul collecting tool with ease.

"Don't worry, I'll show you. I think it's time for you to learn how to handle a real scythe."

And with these words on his mischievously grinning lips he instantaneously positioned himself behind the paralyzed redhead, holding him literally captured with the helve of his scythe which caused Grell to whimper in terrified surprise.

He could feel the lean, strong body right behind him, now and then smoothly leaning against his back, thereby radiating a pleasant heat. Warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of his ear, lips were forming coarsely whispered words only millimetres away from it and a soft strand of silvery hair brushed lightly against his flushed cheek.

"Just try to hold it. Gently."

Easier said than done when your legs feel like they are about to give in any moment…


* I just borrowed this line from Ciel because I think its just beautiful... and it fits so well ;) Please excuse this little plagiarism. ^^

And did I mention that I'm deeply in love with Undertaker's Death Scythe? It already was great in the Anime but since I've read the newest chapter of the Manga... just a~wesome!

I was so damn hyper about it! THAT is a scythe... makes Grell's chainsaw look like a toy in comparison. ^.^

Real men use REAL scythes ^.^