Chapter Six

The pounding would never be out of his head, not for a few days that is. Undertaker was enjoying his evening snooze when banging clattered through his head, and once he realized it was someone at the door, it could only be one person at this time of night. Unlatching the door, Undertaker poked his head outside.

"Your door is most inefficient," Will remarked distinctly. "You have him?"

"That I do," Undertaker let Will inside, offering tea, but Spears was not interested.

"He's asleep for now. I had to put him down after what he looked like," Undertaker noted, opening a casket to reveal Grell Sutcliff, not breathing and stripped to nothing but a few layers of thin cloth. "His clothes are over there."

Will stared for a few moment, aghast at the sight. Sutcliff had stitchings all along the left side of his face, a newly set right arm, cuts, markings, bruises and what seemed to be an infected neck injury.

"Where was he?" Spears asked.

"You seem quite concerned," Undertaker noted. There was never room for emotion in a job, but he was off the clock now. "I found him in one of them run off sites. I happened to be looking for a few things and he was just lying there, all peaceful like. I knew he was one of yours, else I'd have collected his soul myself."

Will bent over, leaning to look at Grell and asking if there were any other horrid injuries. Undertaker lifted the middle section, exposing more wounds and cuts.

"It's like he was run over or cut into a million pieces," Undertaker noted.

"What happened to you?" Will asked to no one, knowing full well Grell would not respond.

He thought he knew what had happened. Knox had gotten a hold of him. But why? Knox was always so carefree, almost too carefree. He complained a lot and almost never took well to overtime, but he was never vengeful. Sometimes he said Grell and Will had the easier job, but never once had Knox gone this far. Rationally, this did not make any sense, yet somehow in Will's mind he was perfectly all right with accepting this as fact without evidence, although it was nearly strictly in his mind against such an approach. Well, Grell was going to be awake any time soon to tell him the full story.

"I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," Undertaker said, walking back to his desk. William gave him a look of high disapproval, but he was in no mood to argue. His emotion was taking control, but he wouldn't let that happen for long. He sighed a few times, looked at Grell's pathetic body lying there, and he slowly cleared his mind away.

"This must be addressed. I want to know who did this and why," William said, turning to the bounder. "Do you know anything else besides where you found him?"

Undertaker looked up for a few moments.

"His blood had a stench most peculiar and he was barely alive, unable to speak when I got hold of him. Miserable old thing he was," Undertaker said. "Didn't tell me anything as I wrapped him up. He'd given up by then I'm sure."

Sutcliff succumb to pain? That seemed to be a first.

"When will he wake up?" Will asked.

"In a few hours, maybe less. I didn't give him that much."

"Do my a kind favor and help me move him," William requested. Undertaker took this chance to rid himself of the red reaper taking up space in his lovely coffin. The two transferred Sutcliff to William's apartment where he paid off Undertaker, who almost declined the cash. Spears insisted and made sure Grell was sprawled along his bedsheets.

For tonight, Will vowed to take the sofa. He caught himself three hours of sleep before waking up to check on Grell, who was still sound asleep as well. William took it three hours at a time until he'd woken up for the third time. Sutcliff was breathing again, so his system was responding to the pain to be sure. Spears phoned the office, explaining he would not be in until later today to view the cinematic records and file them away to the library. After hanging up with Lisa, Spears yawned and tried to do as much paperwork as he could from home.

A few of his correspondents were ever so nice as to deliver him work, a few of them inquiring about him working from home today. William never indulged them, but by around three in the afternoon, he was beginning to worry about Grell. Maybe Undertaker had given him more than previously thought?

Spears had left a clipboard in his room with the simple instruction to write down whatever Grell could remember.

"What the hell?"

William's head jerked up, focusing intently on the next room. He stood and let himself in.

"You're awake," he greeted. Grell turned to meet his gaze, slightly surprised.

"Will..." he said, still coming out of it but he was caught speechless.

"What do you remember?" the black reaper sat next to Grell, looking closely into his eyes where the red reaper avoided eye contact after a matter of seconds, remaining silent as a few minutes tic tocked on by.

"Grell," Will tried again, this time placing his hand on Grell's left arm where he focused his new gaze. "I need to know what happened."

"I'm trying okay?" Grell snapped, closing his eyes. "I remember...being ambushed, the night after our soul collection together. I remember saying good night and being attacked. There was a motor running, I know that, and I tried to defend myself. He was too quick."

"He?" Spears questioned.

"Of yes, most definitely a male," Grell affirmed. "I cut him."

"Where?"

"I don't remember, but I did slice into his clothes."

"What did he look like?"

"Standard reaper clothing, but I couldn't say that I know for sure. Covered in black, might have worn a tie, I don't know. How did I get here?" Grell asked, looking up at Will.

"Undertaker found you lying in run off," Will replied. Grell cringed, but it was then he felt a pain in his face.

"What the-" he grasped a mirror. "What happened to my face!"

"I don't know," Will sighed. "but Undertaker fixed it. Please try to focus, Grell." The red reaper continuously stroked the stitching, a look on his face almost unrecognizable.

"A knife," he said slowly. "He...he beat me...with a knife." He put his hand down, but Will wouldn't push him anymore. Grell got a look at all the injury he sustained. "He just kept coming, but after a while, he just...stopped and kicked me over somewhere. I can't remember after that." He looked at his hands.

"I was bound," he held his wrists up. "There was no defense after he'd thrown me to the ground. Ow."

His wounds were started to pulse and he leaned back, wanting to fall back asleep. Will set the paper aside, seeing as though Grell couldn't write anyway since he was right handed. He looked straight at Will.

"Does it look hideous?" he asked, touching the stitching again. Will's head turned slightly in confusion. Grell was still looking at him with these eyes just full of hurt and anguish. Glancing over Grell, Will knew he looked like roadkill, but that wasn't what Sutcliff needed to hear.

"No," Will replied, looking right into those green eyes. He took off Grell's glasses, setting them aside on the table next to the bed.

"Will!" Grell exclaimed, grasping his free arm to the reaper's wrist. There were tears streaming down his face. "Please...stay." Will sighed, giving in just this once. Grell was alive and talking. He might remember some more later and at the moment, Will couldn't jeopardize information to Grell's requests.

He sat on the bedside taking Sutcliff's hand off of his wrist.

"It just hurts, so much," he said. "I just wanted it to be over." His hand went limp.

"No harm will come to you here," Will said. "Now, get some rest."