Grell stayed at work for perhaps another month, before his condition forced him to take up Will's offer. He sat in his office staring at the paperwork, and he worried his bottom lip with his teeth until it began to bleed. William stood waiting, a slight frown marring the cold perfection of his face.

"Do stop biting your lip, Grell," he suggested when a drop of crimson formed on the abused flesh.

Grell looked up from the documents, his pen hovering over the dotted line he was to sign. "Oh. I hadn't realized…"

He released his lip and gently sucked on it to clean the salty drop of blood off. "Will…people are going to find out about me if I sign this."

The brunet nodded, his features relaxing into an almost sympathetic expression. "Unfortunately, that is correct. Once the paperwork is filled out, they will want to contact your doctor for confirmation. There is no avoiding that, if you want to take maternity leave."

He walked over to the redhead's desk and he looked down at the document pensively. "I'll see to it that you aren't mistreated over this. The first person that breathes a negative word about your condition will be reported immediately for unprofessional conduct in the workplace. I won't tolerate it."

Grell blushed, and he sniffed as tears threatened. "Thank you, Will. I could almost believe you have my better interests at heart."

The brunet looked away uncomfortably. "I do. Regardless of past transgressions, I value your contributions to this organization. No Dispatch officer should be shamed for how they are created. That sort of prejudice should be beneath us all."

Grell nodded and wiped his eyes hastily. "I suppose I should pack my things to move in with Undy tonight."

"That would be a wise choice," agreed the supervisor softly. "Have you told him of the feinting spells?"

Grell sighed. "He knows they happen from time to time, and that's why I'm doing this. I hate feeling so…so helpless, but I know he'll look out for me and I can't continue working when I might black out at any moment."

"The doctor hasn't been able to prescribe anything that would help with them?"

Grell shook his head. "He says that watching my diet and blood pressure is the best thing he can recommend, right now. I'm taking the prenatal vitamins religiously and I try not to be too terribly active, but sometimes even walking around the block exhausts me."

With that thought in mind, he gave up on procrastinating and he signed the paperwork, his signature flowing gracefully from the pen. He put the writing tool aside and he picked up the documents, handing them over. "I don't think you can stop people from talking about it outside work." He gave the other reaper a tremulous smile. "Then again, they already talk about me."

"There will be some gossip for a time," agreed William as he took the papers and tucked them into a folder he'd brought with him, "but you do have allies. By the time the child is born and you return to work, it will be an old subject and most will have already moved on to other gossip."

Grell placed a hand over his abdomen—which had started to show the slightest signs of a bump. In another month or two, his condition would become more obvious. "Perhaps it's for the best that I'm leaving now, before I start to waddle." He smiled at the brunet again. "Again, thank you, Will. It makes me feel…safe…to have you on my side."

William shrugged, never comfortable with displays of affection. "Just take care of yourself. I'll see to it that you get your old position back immediately, when you've recovered and are ready to return to work."


"Well I'll be damned," said Undertaker over the phone when Grell called him with the news that he'd be moving in that very night. "Chilly Willy came through after all."

"It wasn't William's decision," scoffed Grell. "It was mine. I decided that mine and the baby's health is more important than who finds out I'm androgynous. Half of them probably suspected as much already, anyway."

The mortician chuckled. "I don't think it will come as such a great shock to the people that know you, love. Just let me know when you're on your way here and I'll be sure to have the place tidied up and ready for you."

He glanced over at the red satin dress he'd purchased that day, hanging from the edge of one of his upright coffins. "And I've got a little something for you that might brighten your day a bit, too. Two something's, in fact. Need any help managing your things, my dear?"

"Ronnie's offered to help me pack," answered the redhead, "and whatever we can't fit into a carriage can be transported through the Shinigami postal system. I've already dropped my lease and the landlord has agreed to wait until I've gotten everything out, before he puts up a new tenant here. So darling…what are these two something's you've mentioned? I'm an absolute whore for gifts."

Undertaker laughed. "So I've noticed, love…so I've noticed. You'll just have to wait to see your presents when you get here."

Grell sighed. "Cruel, making me wait with anticipation."

"Just think of how much nicer it will be when you're surprised," he insisted. "I can't wait to hold you and give you a good snuggle. We'll have a nice dinner tonight to celebrate your moving in with me, all right?"

"That sounds lovely," agreed the redhead, sounding a little happier. "You are so very good at making a lady feel loved, sweet madman. You'll spoil me, you know."

"Too late," quipped the mortician lightly. "You're already a rotten little darling, but I don't mind."

"Only you could get away with calling me rotten and make it sound so romantic," sighed Grell. "I'll try not to be too late getting there, my love."

"Just don't strain yourself trying to hurry," cautioned the mortician. "Until then, pretty rose."


Still wondering what his lover had gotten for him, Grell said his goodbyes to his office and he clocked out for the last time. He was feeling a bit nostalgic as he left Headquarters and traveled to his apartment building. He never thought he could actually miss work like this, but now that he knew he wouldn't be returning for at least seven months depending on his recovery time after the birth of his child, it pained him to go. He supposed it was normal for one not to fully appreciate what one has, until it's gone. Reminding himself sternly that he was still a Dispatch officer and was not leaving forever, he put aside his misgivings and greeted the doorman to his apartment building. He took the elevator up, and he fought a moment of dizziness as he ascended.

"I am so tired of this," he sighed as he leaned against the back rail and waited for it to pass. He'd done everything Dr. Francis advised; he'd increased his salt intake, drank at least two full glasses of milk per day, and even drank that awful beetroot concoction he'd been advised to take regularly. Surely his condition should have improved by now.

The dizzy spell ebbed as he reached his floor, and the redhead breathed easier. Feeling it was safe to let go and walk out of the elevator now, he waited for the doors to open and stepped into the hall. Digging the keys to his apartment out of his jacket, he walked to the door and prepared to unlock it. Grell frowned when he realized it was already unlocked, and he looked around suspiciously. Did he forget to lock it before he left? He swore he could remember securing the dead bolt in place.

Suddenly cautious at the possibility of an intruder, Grell manifested his death scythe and pushed the door open, ready to saw someone in half before they could so much as blink at him. The lights came on abruptly as the door swung open, and Grell found himself staring at a living room full of his work associates.

"Surprise!" they shouted, and then streamers and confetti exploded everywhere. Ronald was in the lead, wearing a blue and yellow sparkly party hat and blowing on a party favor.

"What…what's all this?" Grell exclaimed, putting a hand to his heart. "A lady could have a heart attack!"

Eric Slingby stepped up with a grin, and he offered Grell a red glitter tiara. Putting it on the crown of his head for him, he nodded at the other reapers. "It was Ron's idea ta see yeh off," offered the Scottish reaper. "He said yeh should go out wi' a bang, an' we agreed wi' him."

Grell's surprised expression melted into a smile, and his eyes sought out Ronald's. He'd completely forgotten that he had given Ronald a copy of the keys to his apartment, in case he ever needed to crash or required his help. "Oh, you sweet little pest! You gave me such a fright!"

Ronald laughed. "Well, I thought you deserved a special send-off, Senpai. We know you'll be coming back, but Dispatch won't be the same while you're away. Just wanted to show ya how much we appreciate you."

Grell was indeed surprised…and touched. There were reapers like Eric and Alan and Ronald whom he knew were genuinely fond of him, but he didn't know he had this many fans. He counted nineteen reapers from his department, and even William was there. He wasn't wearing a party hat and he stood dignified and quiet in the back, but he was there. Grell met his eyes across the distance and he grinned.

"Will, did you know about this when you came to my office today?"

"I did not," answered the brunet evenly. He glanced over at Ronald. "This was one of Mr. Knox's last moment ideas."

"We all pitched in," said Alan with a smile. "We thought it was a great idea. There's cake and champagne, and sparkling grape juice for the mum to be."

Grell suddenly felt like crying. They all knew now…and yet there they were, throwing him a farewell party. He saw curiosity in the faces of some, but none of them were looking at him like he was a freak. Maybe Undy was right and they already suspected there was something more unusual about him than what met the eye. Maybe hearing the news that he was expecting explained a lot of unasked questions for them. Whatever the reason for their shocking acceptance, he was grateful beyond words.

"Ronnie, come here," ordered the redhead with a sniffle. "I want to kiss you."

"No tongue," insisted the grinning blond as he approached and hugged him. "Ya might make the Undertaker jealous if word gets back to him, and I don't wanna be on his bad side."

Grell blurted a shaken laugh, and he kissed Ronald on the cheek as they embraced. "We can't have that now, can we? You're a sweet kid, Mustard Seed."

"Hey, you know me," said the blond with a shrug, patting Grell's back. "Any excuse to party, right?"

Alan took his place next, hugging Grell gently. "And remember if you need anything, you can always pick up the phone and call me."

Grell began to weep softly, but they were happy tears. "Thank you, Alan. I've been so worried about what you would all think of me if you found out. I couldn't be happier to find out my fears were misplaced."

Not ieveryone/i from his office was there, of course. It was only a mere handful, but he was still grateful that some of them liked him enough to support him. After all his years of seeking approval and acceptance, this was positively the best gift they could have possibly given him.

"And don't ferget ta send word when tha babe comes," demanded Eric. "We'll want ta see tha lil' tyke."

"It's a promise," agreed Grell. Someone handed him a handkerchief and he dabbed his eyes with it. "Well, let's see this cake. I'm feeling peckish!"


Undertaker finished adding the last touches to his latest creation, and he stepped back to eye it critically. Perhaps it was too soon to be planning this, given the tenuous possibility that the baby would make it to full term, but he wanted Grell to know beyond all doubt that he was excited and optimistic about this pregnancy. "Hmm…needs more pink," he mused, and he reached for the paintbrush to dip it and finalize his work.

Grinning in satisfaction when it was done, he nodded and began to put away his crafting tools. He checked the clock over the mantle as he passed through his small living room, and he frowned a bit at the time. "Should have heard something from him by now. That's worrisome."

He tried not to get anxious over it, reasoning that Grell's doctor would have contacted him if he'd suffered another collapse. Still, he'd expected at least a phone call from his love by now. He walked through the curtain separating his shop from his living space, and he approached the phone on his desk. Maybe Grell just got so caught up in packing that he forgot to ring him. He sat down and reached for the phone to call him, since it was easier to use than the aether phone he'd bought in the Shinigami realm. The sound of someone trying to open his shop door gave him pause, and he put the phone back on his cradle and got up to see who it was.

"Well ithere/i you are, my dear," said the mortician with a grin of relief when he opened it to find Grell standing there, his arms laden with bags. Ronald Knox stood behind him, carrying the heavier suit cases. "Come in, come in! Here, let me take those from you. My, is that a tiara on your head?"

"Indeed it is," said Grell. "Ronnie threw me a surprise farewell party. I tried to call you and invite you to come, but you didn't answer your phone."

Undertaker felt like kicking himself. "Must have had it on silent and not realized it," he muttered, taking the bags from the redhead. "And I wouldn't have heard the shop phone ringing from all the way in the back. Sorry, darlin', but thank you for thinking of me." He kissed Grell on the cheek and he carried the bags into the building.

"Well, I did save you some cake," said the crimson reaper as he and Ronald followed him inside. "Red velvet…it's delicious! I know how you enjoy sweets."

"Excellent," approved the mortician. Grell pushed the curtain aside for him and Ronald, and Undertaker carried the goods into the living room and set them down. "Mr. Knox, you can put those in the master bedroom, down the end of the hall. Grell my dear, I have something to show you, but I want you to cover your eyes first."

Grinning, the redhead did as instructed and put his hands over his eyes. "I feel like it's my birthday. Everyone's been giving me gifts today! Those bags are full of baby things, by the way. It was a farewell baby shower combination party, I suppose."

"Isn't that lovely," remarked the Undertaker with a grin at Ronald. "You're a good lad, throwing a party for your mentor like that."

Ronald smirked and he began to wheel the luggage down the hall. "Well, we love him. Even when he's driving everyone crazy, Sutcliff Senpai keeps things interesting at the office. We're gonna miss him while he's gone."

Undertaker leaned over his lover and he spoke softly into his ear. "You see? The ones that matter don't care about how you're made. How many showed up?"

"Not too many," confessed Grell, "but more than I would have expected. All of my favorite agents were there, and that's enough for me. So where is this surprise, my love?"

Undertaker put an arm around his waist to guide him. "Right this way. We'll be going into the spare bedroom, first. Watch your step, darlin'."

Grell dutifully kept his hands over his eyes as the older reaper guided him through the hallway and into the little spare room. "All right, you can look now."

Grell uncovered his eyes, and they widened behind his glasses at the sight before him. The last time he'd been here, this room was full of crates and was basically being used as storage. Undertaker had cleared it out and transformed it into a nursery, complete with a black cradle and a matching mobile hanging from the ceiling. The cradle had a pink cushion and a soft black blanket with matching pink stars on it, and a delicate, gossamer black canopy hung over it from the ceiling. The mobile hanging down through the canopy matched in color, with crescent moons, bats and owls dangling in black and pink shapes. Grell put a hand to his mouth and looked around, impressed and stunned. Undertaker had painted a moonscape on the walls, along with stars on the ceiling. A large round rug covered the wooden floor in the center of the room, and it had the same star pattern on it as the blanket in the crib.

"Oh, Undy," sighed Grell. "This is…you've outdone yourself! I'm utterly in ilove/i with this room!"

"Thank Styx you like it," breathed the ancient with obvious relief. He smiled. "Now I can stop worrying."

"I love it," assured Grell. He turned and put his arms around him. "Is this why you insisted we dine out, when I came over Wednesday?"

Undertaker nodded. "I didn't want you to see it 'till it was done, and I knew you'd get suspicious if I told you not to look in there." He returned his embrace and he lowered his mouth to Grell's for a kiss. "I wasn't sure you'd like the color scheme."

"Not everything has to be red for me to like it," chuckled Grell. "And I know how you adore pink."

"I finally have an excuse to use the color in my interior decorating," joked the mortician with a chuckle. "Well, let's show you the other gift, eh? Cover your eyes again, my dear. We'll be going to the master bedroom."

Grell heard Ronald say something from the direction of said bedroom, and then Undertaker shushed him. "Don't spoil it, Mr. Knox. Keep your opinion to yourself until Grell gets the chance to see it, please."

"Oh, sorry," said the blond. "Senpai's gonna love it, though."

Now more curious than ever and thinking that Undertaker couldn't possibly outdo the nursery, Grell quickened his footsteps. He knew the interior of his lover's house well enough by now to get around without sight. He could tell when they were in the master bedroom once his boots touched down on soft carpet.

"Can I look yet?"

Undertaker rubbed his back and nodded. "Go ahead, love It's hanging on the wardrobe."

Grell looked, and his jaw dropped. He approached the dinner gown slowly, his heart in his eyes as he examined the fine stitching and expensive material. The gown was made of fine red satin, with darker sleeves and a skirt of velvet. Tailored to the latest fashion in London, it was the most beautiful dress he'd seen in some time—and it was evidently all his. He whirled and stared at his lover. "Undertaker…however did you iafford/i something like this?"

Painting the nursery and crafting the furniture was one thing; Undertaker was a natural when it came to wood-crafting. This, however, probably cost a king's ransom, and the mortician hadn't been selling his services for coin for that long.

The mortician shrugged and looked down, smiling. "So you like it, then?"

"I adore it," assured the redhead, "but how…" he trailed off, noticing a few things for the first time. The painting that usually hung on the wall near the little pot-bellied fireplace was gone. He hadn't noticed when he first came in, but now that he thought of it, some of Undertaker's nick-nacks were missing from the living room, too. He hadn't seen the silver owl that usually sat on his mantle, nor were the brass candle holders he kept on either side of it. In fact, Undertaker's walls and shelves were curiously bare, and Grell's first thought that he'd just moved things to clean up for his arrival now seemed to be incorrect.

"Undertaker, where did the painting go?" he inquired, pointing at the bare wall. "And all of your little figurines, and candlesticks?"

The ancient shrugged again. "It's all just things, my dear. I wanted you to have something nice, and that look on your face is worth more than a few baubles and pictures, to me."

"B-but the owl! You loved that thing!"

Undertaker blushed a little. "Love you more."

Grell felt like his heart would explode with love, at that moment. He reached up to brush the silvery bangs out of his lover's eyes, and the damnable tears started to come again. Undertaker had a small streak of pink paint on his face, and Grell tried to rub it off with his glove. "You adorable, sweet old basket-case. I…I really don't know what to say."

"Say you'll wear it tonight for dinner," suggested the mortician with a grin. "I know you won't be able to fit into it for much longer, but I had it made with your measurements and you won't be pregnant forever. Like I said; I don't have much to offer but when I saw it, I knew I wanted you to have it. I remembered those shoes of yours that you've been wanting to wear but had nothing to wear them with, and I thought it'd be perfect for them."

Grell buried his face against the taller reaper's chest. "Oh, here come the tears again! Undy…my sweet Undertaker…I shall never love another gift as much as I love this dress, knowing what it cost you."

Undertaker rubbed his back and held him close. "It didn't cost me anything that can't be replaced, my dear. I'd rather see my lady dressed up fancy and enjoying herself than anything else, right now."

"Wow," said Ronald uncomfortably as they kissed, scratching his head. "Know what? I'll just go uh…make some tea or something…give you two some time alone."

He made a hasty exit, not knowing what else to do. Any doubts he might have harbored that the Undertaker was good enough for his mentor were laid to rest permanently, after hearing and seeing all that.


After enjoying some tea and biscuits with his hosts as a snack, Ronald said his farewells and he made sure that Undertaker had his contact number if he needed anything. With one last, half-teasing warning to take good care of his senpai, he set off to return home and leave the lovebirds to their grim nest. A little embarrassed despite Grell's reassurances that his home was sufficient to start their new life in, Undertaker did his best to be attentive and romantic with him. He helped Grell into his new gown and while the redhead was styling his hair, he changed into his one decent suit for their night on the town. With the last of the money he'd made from pawning off some of his things, he took his lover to an upscale restaurant for dinner.

"You look lovely, my dear," assured the mortician as he stepped out of the carriage and offered his hand to Grell. The smaller reaper's satin-gloved hand settled into his as he joined him in the street and fussed with the coiled hair piled on his head.

"What if someone notices?" Grell whispered uncertainly. He loved to wear women's clothes, but he didn't often get the opportunity to dress up this way and have a handsome man on his arm. He'd stuffed the gown to give the illusion of cleavage, but he couldn't help but worry someone might figure out he wasn't exactly a lady.

"Notices what?" countered the Undertaker with a bright smile, "that I have on my arm the most beautiful lady in London? Let them notice and be envious."

A charming blush spread over Grell's cheeks and he smiled, his teeth disguised to look like ordinary ones so as not to draw attention to him. "You are so good to me, my love. I think the ladies are the ones who should be envious of me!"

"Even if they aren't, we can pretend otherwise." The mortician winked and he nodded at the doorman as he opened the door for them. Inside the establishment there was a band of musicians playing a romantic tune on stringed instruments. Undertaker gave his name to the host, and they were shown to their candlelit table in the far corner of the restaurant.

"I thought you'd prefer a more private spot," confessed the mortician as they were handed their menus.

"Your waiter will be here with you shortly, sir and madam," informed the host. "What shall I bring you to drink, in the meantime? Champagne?"

Undertaker shook his head. "No thank you. My wife is in a delicate condition and I won't imbibe while she can't. Bring us each a glass of ginger water, thanks. Is that all right by you, love?" He looked at Grell as he asked the question.

A bit taken aback by being referred to as his wife, it took Grell a moment to respond. "Hmm? Oh yes, ginger water is fine."

As the man bowed and left to retrieve their beverages, Grell leaned over the table a bit and whispered to his date. "I'm your wife now?"

The mortician smiled. "Well, I wasn't about to call you my mistress, darlin'. Does that bother you?"

Grell blushed again, looking down absently at the menu in his hands. "Not at all, my love. It just…surprised me." His mind began to race, and he glanced uncertainly at the engaging fiend sitting across from him. "Would you ever…that is, have you considered…" He faltered nervously as the Undertaker gave him a curious look.

"What, love?"

Grell shook his head. What a sad, desperate thing he'd become, to consider proposing to his lover. Surely if the Undertaker wanted him to become his wife, he'd have already offered by now. They were having a child together, after all. "Nothing," sighed the redhead. "It's nothing. I don't even recall what I was going to ask."

He returned his attention to the menu to hide his disconcertment. "The duck a l'orange looks promising."

"Hmm, could be." Undertaker looked at his menu with a little frown. "I'm really not used to dining fancy like this. What would you recommend to an unsophisticated old codger like myself?"

Trying to put aside daydreams of walking down the isle to speak wedded vows with the ancient, Grell considered his question. "I know how you like red meat. Perhaps the filet mignon would be to your liking."

The mortician nodded and smiled, folding up his menu. "Then filet mignon it is. Why don't you pick the appetizers?"

"Happy to," agreed Grell sincerely. He couldn't believe how hungry he was getting already. He'd had cake at his surprise party and now his mouth was watering at the thought of biting into a well-prepared meal. "I fear I may soon get fat, with as much as I've been eating. Would you still want me if I gained a little weight, Undertaker?"

"I'd still want you if you gained a lot of weight," ensured the ancient with another of his dazzling smiles. He reached across the table to squeeze Grell's hand. "And keeping you well-fed is a goal of mine. Good nutrition makes for a healthier pregnancy, my dear."

Grell gave a tremulous smile, and he returned the pressure of his hand. He was so very ihandsome/i in the three-piece, pinstriped suit. Undertaker had gathered his hair into a ponytail and tied it back with a black ribbon. To Grell, he looked particularly dashing tonight and as it occurred to him that they would be sharing a bed from now on, thoughts of other ways he could show his appreciation for his generosity crept into his head.

"I'm trying my best to follow the doctor's orders," he said softly, "but I'm glad I'll have you watching over me, making sure I don't neglect myself. I…don't wish for anything to happen to this baby."

He dropped the menu and placed his other hand protectively over his abdomen. At first he'd been rather irresolute about it, but now he wanted nothing more than to carry this baby to term and greet him or her, when they came into the world. The only thing he could think of that might please him as much would be to become Undertaker's wife for real, and it surprised him how quickly and easily that desire snuck up on him…and all because the man had called him his wife.

Something flashed in the mortician's eyes—which Grell could see clearly for once because he'd pulled his hair back for this date. For a brief instant, the Undertaker looked…pained. "Is something the matter, my love? I know you've been worried about the fainting spells, but I assure you I'm feeling just fine right now."

The mortician's expression softened into a gentle smile. "Of course you are, love. I don't mean to be a worry-wart, it's just been hard to be away from you when I know those happen, from time to time."

"Well, I'm living with you now," reminded Grell with a teasing smile. He playfully nudged the older reaper's leg beneath the table with his foot. "So you can watch over me and catch me if I fall."

"And I will," promised Undertaker with a nod. "I only hope I don't smother you, love."

The redhead shrugged delicately. "I enjoy getting attention…you know that. Oh, here come our drinks. Are you ready to order?"

Undertaker nodded and he smiled up at the waiter as the man set down their beverages. "Evening, chap. I think I'll be having the filet mignon, cooked medium-rare. The lady here would like the duck a l'orange and I'll allow her to tell you which appetizers she wants."

Touched and a little amazed at how easily his lover used female pronouns for him—a thing which all of his other associates struggled with or refused outright to do—Grell smiled and looked at the appetizer section on the menu. "I think we can start with a serving of the artichoke dip, followed by the stuffed mushrooms."

Deciding that was plenty, Grell folded the menu and handed it over.

"Of course, Madame," said the waiter graciously. "Will there be anything else?"

"I think we're fine, right now," answered Grell. "Thank you."

With a little bow, the waiter left with their order, leaving them in privacy. Undertaker smiled at Grell as the redhead began to sip his drink, and he said something that made Grell choke.

"What do you think of becoming my wife for real, darlin'?"

It was like the man had read his mind, and Grell had to take a moment to cough up the beverage he'd accidentally inhaled. He reached for his napkin and covered his mouth, holding a finger up to stall his date when it looked like Undertaker might get up to assist him.

"I'm all right," insisted Grell when he could breathe again. He took a deep breath, his face flushed and his heart pounding. "Did you just ask me what I think you asked me?"

"If you think I just asked you to consider marrying me, then yes." Undertaker nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Choking wasn't quite the response I was hoping for, though."

"I'm sure it wasn't," agreed Grell breathlessly. "Undy…do you mean it?"

"Well, it makes perfect sense, doesn't it?" The mortician spread his hands benignly. "You're having my baby. We've been together now for some time, and I can't see myself tiring of your company, my dear. I know it isn't so much an issue with reapers the way it is for humans, and maybe it's just a slip of paper and a pair of rings, but I feel like I should at least run the thought by you and see what you think of it. I thought of buying you a ring, but I…er…ran out of funds to do that."

He felt like he must be dreaming, and Grell pinched his own arm to be sure. No, he was still awake. "You would really marry me, if I said 'yes'?"

The mortician nodded without hesitation. "In a heartbeat, love. I know this isn't the most romantic way to propose, but—"

"Oh, Undertaker…I don't care about that," sighed Grell dreamily. "I've just been asked for my hand by the man I love…the father of my child! I…I was thinking of it earlier, I confess…but I didn't want to spoil our evening by asking you something that might scare you."

The older reaper grinned. "There's not much left in this world that can scare me, little rose. Maybe other chaps would get a fright from it, but the prospect of marrying the mother of my baby doesn't give me so much as a chill. So…would you take the vows with me?"

The crimson reaper didn't think this day could possibly get any better for him. He stared into his lover's eyes and upon seeing the sincerity in them, he swallowed and nodded, reaching for his hand again. "Yes. I would love to be your bride."

The ancient visibly relaxed, and to Grell's surprise he used his napkin to dab at his forehead. "Whew…another relief. Your old Undertaker can't take much more anticipation tonight, my dear."

Grell laughed and squeezed his hand. "Oh, darling…you needn't be so nervous! I'm yours completely, and I'll wear my wedding band with pride, even if all we can afford is brass."

"You'll have a golden one," insisted the mortician. "As soon as I can afford it."

"Then I insist on splitting the cost. I'm getting paid maternity leave and you should not have to carry the burden of the cost alone."

Undertaker looked like he might try to argue that, but he thought better of it and shrugged. "If the lady insists."

Their appetizers came and Grell put aside any further discussion over wedding plans for the moment, his stomach growling in response to the aroma of the food. "This looks divine," he said as he picked up his fork and collected some of the mushrooms from the plate, dropping them onto the little one provided for him by the waiter. Undertaker went for a piece of the garlic toast to try the artichoke dip first.

"Mm, tasty," he approved after sampling it. He took a couple of mushrooms for himself and he had another sip of his drink. "I'm glad we did this, lovely. I don't like to get out much, but it was worth it for you."

Practically floating on a cloud of happiness, Grell blushed and rubbed the mortician's leg with his foot under the table. "Expect a substantial reward for all of this, my grinning Romeo."


Grell was perfectly content with living with his lover, which surprised him because he generally preferred a bit more luxury. What they couldn't fit of Grell's belongings in the house, they stored in the attic until he could decide what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to get rid of. At least the Undertaker's tub was a deep one, and he could stretch out in it for a long soak. Unfortunately, he couldn't run as hot a bath as he wanted because the doctor warned him against it in his condition. Grell took it in stride; because his lover's attentive care made up for the little things he missed. Undertaker gave him foot and shoulder rubs every day, easing the little aches and pains that came with his pregnancy. He made sure he got plenty of milk, he cooked for him, and he always warned him when there was a new client coming in for work so that Grell would know to avoid the pathway from the shop to the basement until the bodies were transported.

Just as he'd said, Undertaker began to charge coin for his services and he and Grell both saved up to buy a pair of wedding bands. Grell even had fewer fainting spells, and he began to feel stronger. Alan came by one day a couple of weeks after Grell moved in, and he was kind enough to share the latest office gossip with the redhead while he visited.

"Well, Eric got himself into trouble," sighed the brunet as he sipped the cup of tea Grell had prepared for him. They sat together at the little round table in the kitchen, and the occasional noises from the basement reached their ears. Undertaker had been very busy lately, and he excused himself to finish his current job while the two agents visited.

"Oh?" Grell stirred cream into his own tea—a mild blend that contained no caffeine. "What did he do?"

"He punched out one of the exchange agents from another branch."

Grell's brows shot up. "Whatever for?"

Alan shrugged, smiling a little ruefully. "For insulting me."

The redhead grinned sharply and sighed. "That Scotsman of yours…so impulsive and protective."

"Well, he's going to be impulsive and suspended, if he doesn't watch his temper," grumbled Alan. "It really wasn't a big deal. The man wasn't wrong."

"What did he say?" queried Grell with interest.

"He heard about my illness and he said it's my own fault for being too compassionate…feeling too much for the people I reap."

Grell bit his lip and looked down at the tea in his cup.

"You see?" Alan smirked again. "Even you agree with him."

The redhead shrugged, remembering his first reaping assignment with William. "When we care too much, the cinematic records can turn on us and try to take us down with the mark. Don't tell him I mentioned it, but Will very nearly lost his life, the first time he reaped someone. I was there to rescue him, but it was a hard lesson for both of us. Perhaps your compassion doesn't rule you enough to pose an immediate danger, but it did allow the Thorns to take hold and begin growing."

"I know." Alan briefly shut his eyes, his young face going through a swift spasm of pain. "And the thing that hurts the most is seeing how helpless Eric feels. He…when I'm gone, he's going to…"

"He'll be a wreck," finished Grell for him, shrugging. He wasn't without sympathy for the couple, but he tended to look at the facts. He'd killed the only human he'd ever loved, to prove to himself that his feelings did not rule him. Now that he was with Undertaker and expecting a child, though, he found it impossible to shut off his emotions…impossible not to love. He gazed at Alan with more compassion when the younger reaper visibly swallowed, and he reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

"Even if they can't find a cure, at least you have each other now. Eric won't be alone. We'll watch over him for you and make sure the big lummox doesn't do anything foolish."

Alan managed a tiny smile. "Thank you. That's what worries me the most; him getting careless on the job once I'm not around anymore. He says he won't take another partner, no matter what Dispatch says."

Grell sighed again, caught up in the romance of it. "Those Celts are a stubborn lot…but quite loyal."

"Don't I know it," agreed Alan with a soft laugh, his eyes faraway. He sighed again and propped his chin in his hand. "I love him. I don't want anything to happen to him because he's too caught up in grieving for me that he doesn't pay attention."

Grell nodded. "We'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen, for you. Eric's a likeable fellow and he has plenty of reapers willing to keep an eye on him and be there for him."

"And he'll have plenty trying to swoop in, once he's single," muttered Alan. He sipped his tea and made a face at the prospect. "But I'll be dead, so I guess I can't be jealous."

"As if he would go out with any of them," snorted Grell. "The man is devoted to you, Alan, and I will eat my own stockings if he goes out on so much as a single date before at least a year has passed."

"I just don't want him to be lonely."

Grell shrugged and made a graceful, dismissive gesture with his hand. "He'll choose to be lonely for a while, but he'll eventually be ready to move on. That doesn't mean he'll ever forget or stop loving you, though."

A little bit of the tragedy faded from the brunet's eyes. He looked at Grell with sincere gratitude. "Thank you, Grell. Most people don't like to talk about the Thorns. It brings them down and makes them uncomfortable. Eric gets upset every time it's mentioned, but sometimes I need to talk about it, and you don't shy away from it."

Grell sipped his tea with a pensive little frown. "Life is hard. It's death that's easy…or it should be. You should be able to talk about your condition and get your affairs in order without worrying about upsetting anyone. Hiding our heads in the sand from hardship doesn't make the problems go away, and there's always some way to deal with them."

He blushed and smiled softly. "Undertaker taught me that."

Alan smiled as well. "You really are smitten. I'm happy for both of you."

Grell nodded, again wondering how the silly old fool managed to capture his heart so completely. "I hope you'll be around long enough to see the baby, Alan. I'd like you to have the chance to hold it, when it comes."

"Of course." Alan nodded with confidence. "They've got me on new medications that are slowing the Thorns down. The doctors say I could have another two years, so I should be here to greet the little Grell."

"That makes me happy," sighed Grell. He genuinely liked Alan and he thought it was a shame that such a nice young man should fall victim to such an insidious disease. Of all the reapers to be infected with a fatal illness, why gentle Alan? It really wasn't fair, and he deliberately tried not to dwell on it because despite his own nonchalant act, he found it tragic and romantic at once.

He pushed his reverie aside and cast a sly grin at the younger reaper. "On to more pleasant subjects, then. Your Eric certainly is a handsome, sexy fellow. I've always thought so."

Alan coughed, choking a little on his tea. "Have you? That's strange; usually you flirt outrageously with men you find attractive."

"Only the single ones," corrected Grell. "It was obvious from the beginning that the Scotsman had eyes only for you. I'm not a home-wrecker, after all. I can appreciate a handsome man without trying to whisk him away from his love, and even I can admit that I never had a prayer of catching his eye."

"Too feminine," agreed Alan with a chuckle and a nod. "Eric likes them boyish, like me."


Undertaker stopped listening in on the conversation when it turned to the subject of fawning over Eric Slingby. He wasn't exactly jealous because he knew Grell was only being playful, but he still didn't like hearing him paying such high compliments to other man. At least Grell bragged about him a little during their chat. Besides, he had bigger concerns on his mind. He stepped away from the foot of the basement stairs and went back into his lab closing the door behind him and pondering the body on his table without truly seeing it. Grell's words about life being hard and people trying to bury their heads in the sand made him rethink his decision not to warn him about the precariousness of his pregnancy. He felt a little shamed for trying to shield his love from the truth.

"What should an old man do?" he pondered to his client, looking down at the peacefully reposed face of the dead man. "It is my lady's pregnancy, after all. She should know what to anticipate, but I don't want my Grell to worry so much that he exacerbates his condition."

He was used to referring to his love with interchangeable gender pronouns now, hardly giving it a thought. Grell seemed to like it, and he truly thought of him as both male and female. Hormonal balancing was a tricky thing for the average person, but for Grell, it was twice as much so. He put out more than any woman or man, hence his highly dramatic moments.

Could he really cope with the information that Undertaker had found, or would it cause a breakdown? The mortician sighed, and he went to the door again to put his ear to it. He heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs—his hearing was stronger than average due to him having learned to rely on other senses than his sight—and he backed away hastily and pretended to busy himself with the cadaver again.

Grell opened the door with a brief knock, and he poked his head in. He had a lacy handkerchief covering his mouth and nose to cover up the smell. Incense only went so far with a pregnant lady's sensitive nose, after all.

"Undy, Alan is about to leave. Come up and say goodbye to him, my love."

"Be right up, darlin'," assured the Undertaker with a glance up from his work. Grell didn't wait around for him; he could only bear so much of the chemical smell at such close quarters. He went back up the stairs and closed the door at the top of them to make sure the odor wouldn't waft through the house. With a little sigh, Undertaker put down the scalpel and ran his fingers through his pale hair.

"I've got to tell him," he decided.


After Alan left, Undertaker made up some more tea and took a break. "Grell, love, we need to talk about something." He wasn't smiling as he measured the herbal blend into the dunker. He'd removed his surgical gloves and mask, and his hair hung shiny and free down his back.

Grell frowned at him, unused to seeing him look so somber. "Is something the matter, darling?"

Undertaker glanced at him, a subtle glint of dread in his eyes. "It's important. It's about our situation."

The redhead felt his heart sink, and he immediately jumped to the first conclusion that naturally came to him. "You are getting cold feet, aren't you? After living with me you see how unbearable I can be, and now you don't wish to marry me."

The ancient looked honestly surprised by the statement, and his jaw dropped a little as he looked up from his task. He smiled and shook his head. "That's not it at all, my dear. I still have every intention of wedding you, once we've got the money to purchase the rings and our clothing for the occasion."

Grell sighed with relief and put a hand over his heart. "Well don't frighten a lady like that! I already have my gown on order and ready for alterations. I thought…I thought I was scaring you away."

"Not possible," assured Undertaker. He approached him and he put his arms around him, lowering his mouth to his for a brief, loving kiss. "I'm not backing out of our vows, and you aren't as difficult to live with as you think. This is about the baby."

Grell put a hand over his tummy. "What about her?" He was convinced they were having a girl, by now. Not that he'd be disappointed if it was a boy, but it was just a feeling he had.

Undertaker took his hands and guided him over to the table. "Sit down, love. There are some things you should know, and I can't keep them from you in good conscience."

Now suffering a sick feeling of an entirely different sort, Grell sank down in the chair, both hands now protectively covering his abdomen. "Undy, you're frightening me."

The ancient shut his eyes in regret. "That's what I've been trying to avoid, but I've got to respect you enough to trust you'll be strong enough to hear this."

Grell felt his throat trying to close up as he watched his lover return his attention to making a fresh pot of tea for them.


-To be continued