Oh damn, I almost forgot about this story. I am a failauthor D: my apologies, guys. With winter holiday coming up, I might squeeze in another update later this month. Thanks for sticking with this trainwreck, and Merry Christmas!
Also, when Grell narrates, she uses female pronouns to refer to herself, so I stuck with that in this story.
Prior to this day, Lizzie hadn't known vengeance so well.
She dreamed of eviscerating Sebastian, making him cry at her feet, beg for her forgiveness, and she always imagined feeling this smug satisfaction at getting revenge. But no, prior to this day, Lizzie had still been a foolish little girl who dreamed that maybe, someday, she could be big and strong. The type vengeance she imagined against Sebastian wasn't for Ciel, however. It was for her.
But now?
She thinks of her family. Aunt Ann, the stunningly pretty Madame Red, the strong and intelligent woman who guided Lizzie throughout childhood, the arms she could run too when mother was just too unavailable. Oh, that seems too long ago, when Lizzie was young, wore frilly dresses and low-heeled shoes, and pretended she had some semblance of innocence to the ways of the world. Back when the idea of taking a rapier to a god of death would never have crossed her mind.
Now, she holds a mantra of murder in her mind. Kill Grell, kill the bastard, slit his throat, cut off the hair, hold it as a trophy, dig the blade deep, deep, deep into that flat stomach and make his loved ones watch, make his loved ones suffer the way I've suffered. Kill Grell, kill the man who took away one of the last bits of happiness in my life. Kill Grell, for it's the first step on the road to vengeance against Sebastian.
Kill Grell, that nasty, red-colored whore.
Tears pour from her eyes, almost obscuring her vision as she stumbles along the darkening courtyard with her swords in her hands, out to find Grell's office. She remembers him telling her that he would be working late tonight, for once, and Will wouldn't, so that poor, nasty bitch would be all alone, ready to die at her hands. Somewhere in the back of the mind a voice scolds her for being so careless and stupid, and it sounds like Ciel, her beautiful Ciel whom she saw Sebastian murder in cold blood so many weeks ago. Lizzie feels centuries older now, and perhaps she is, for she has no clue of knowing how time passes in the reaper world.
That thought stops her in her tracks, bringing her canter to a halt in the middle of the grassy Shinigami courtyard, now deserted so late in the day. The rest of her family could be dead. Gone. Mother, Father, Edward, poor Edward, her loving brother who felt so torn up about his little sister's trauma. One of her swords clatters to the ground as she brings a hand to her mouth to stifle her cries. She left them back in the real world, all alone so she could chase a dream of revenge. They could be dead. No air left in her lungs, Lizzie falls to the ground, dirtying her knees as she grips the grass in an attempt to find something solid in this world.
Those reapers. It's their fault. It's all their fault. It's even Ron's fault. They're all liars, deceivers, and there's truly nobody in this whole, horrible universe she can trust other than herself. And even then, that's doubtful at times. But those reapers, they took her away from her grieving family and brought her to this world. She was stupid, naive, hopeful that she could murder a demon. But even after so much training, he had her on the bed, hands wandering and breath hot against her skin. He could've taken her any instant, and she wouldn't have been able to stop him.
"Stupid," she whispers, "I'm stupid. I'm hopeless. But that just means I have nothing to lose," she reminds herself, grasping the hilt of her sword once more and struggling to her feet. "I'm sorry, Grell. But you started this."
Grell Sutcliffe sits at her office desk, legs crossed and glasses pushed up to better her eyesight as she pours over the mounds of paperwork. The things I do to help young lovers, Grell thinks as she signs off on another document Ronald was supposed to, Taking on his paperwork so he can prepare a date with his cute litte human. Ah, well, that boy deserves a smidge of happiness every now and then. She stretches her arms up over her head, feeling her spine pop as she did so, the result of hours of sitting at a desk. Letting herself slump over the desk, she sticks out her lower bottom lip in a pout. But still, I hate paperwork.
"Are you, as humans say, burning the midnight oil?" Grell looks up, surprised to see Will standing in her doorway, gazing at her. She smirks, sitting up in her seat and pressing down on the mess of documents waiting for her approval.
"Oh, William, were you hoping to take this lady out somewhere nice tonight?" she purrs, brushing her long red hair back over her shoulder. He shrugs with an impassive face, walking into the room and sitting in one of the chairs in front of her.
"No. It's a weekday, Grell. I just...er, wanted to check on you," he says, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. Grell smiles broadly, getting up from her seat and promptly walking over to place herself firmly in Will's lap.
"I'm doing just fine, William. However, I could use a little break." She smiles knowingly, but William simply kisses her without any fuss. He doesn't waste time talking, but instead embraces her, tangles his hand in her long, soft hair and places the other around her waist. Grell smiles into the kiss, her own arms draped around William's neck as he deepens their kiss.
"Ah, Will," she sighs when he kisses that one spot right beneath her ear, "If you don't stop, I'll never get this paperwork done." He pulls away, a quizzical expression on his face. She feels him place one hand on her forehead, as though checking for a temperature.
"Well, you don't feel like you're running a fever. However, the Grell I know would never pass up sex for paperwork." Grell kisses him lightly on the forehead before sliding off his lap, returning to her desk.
"You know that, for a very long time, I've struggled with human concepts," she says, looking down at her desk with pursed lips, "Tenderness, remorse, caring...but I think I'm finally beginning to understand, a little bit." She can feel William's eyes upon her, looking at his high-functioning sociopathic girlfriend, "Right now, I am practicing atonement."
William looks at her, his lips in a flat line, and Grell knows what he's remembering. Dragging her back to the Reaper world in bloodstained clothes, shouting at her for meddling in human affairs while Grell just grinned maniacally, remembering how thrilling it was to fight a demon as powerful as Sebastian, muttering about how Angelina disappointed her, how her little brat of a nephew ruined everything. With a clearer mind now, she remembers the pained expression William wore, betraying his normal cool facade.
"That little girl is a dangerous human, if she can make you feel like this," William comments, allowing the smallest of smiles to grace his lips. Grell wipes at her eyes, looking up at William.
"I know."
William leans over to kiss her on the cheek before leaving her alone with the paperwork. She watches him go, shuffling the papers on her desk as she thinks about how much she's tried to change, frowning at the futility. It hurts to remember Angelina, beautiful Angelina, with her brilliant red hair, fair skin, and soft curves that Grell grew to adore so much. Grell can see a little of her fire in Elizabeth, which causes those pangs in her chest, but she stifles them to help her. Still, every now and then she catches herself hearing Angelina instead of Elizabeth when the blonde speaks, and sometimes she hates Ronald for having the sanity to keep their relationship intact, instead of slicing it to pieces with a chainsaw.
"Regret," she murmurs, "It feels strange."
Sometimes, Grell hates herself.
It's late enough that there's nobody to see her storm down the hallway, double swords in hands, hair flying out behind her. Gone are the pigtails, gone is her smile, the light in her eyes, gone is everything good and sweet that made her Lizzie, Ciel's fiancee and belle of the ball. Now she is Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Middleford and she is going to kill a death god.
Those low heeled shoes she despises so much clack on the ground, and her throat closes as she tries to stop herself from crying. Why does the world take everything from me? She thinks, remembering Aunt Ann, so calm and unlike her normal bubbly self in death, and her handsome Ciel, twisted in agony as that bastard Sebastian killed him.
She imagines Grell ramming through her aunt with his chainsaw, a maniacal glint in his eyes as he guts her relative, spilling red blood over the filthy London ground.
Die, die, die.
Lizzie can't think of how Ronald will react to finding her crouched over Grell's body in the morning, blood spattered on her white cheeks and cuts all over her body from the battle that will ensue. He'll hate her. He'll despise her, the bloodthirsty human who he no longer finds interesting now that she's gone totally mad. However, she won't let him kill her. She's not done yet.
The doors clang open, and she sees Grell sitting with his legs propped up on his desk, pouring over paperwork. He looks up, adjusts his glasses, and stares at her in shock. The redhead takes in her furious expression, white knuckles from gripping the swords, and dirtied knees, piecing everything together. His perfectly made up mouth falls open, and he stands up, gaping.
"Oh...Angelina," he whispers.
Lizzie flies at him with the scream of a banshee, sticking one sword mere inches away from his face. The noise of it driving deep within the drywall makes Grell cringe as he jumps away, quick and nimble as a cat. She's panting, her cheeks still white from shock, and her green eyes glow with her madness.
"Don't say her name," she hisses, taking an expert swipe at Grell and nearly slicing his arm, "You aren't...you aren't worthy of talking about her. My beautiful aunt. You sick, twisted bastard. I...I hate you." Were it anyone else, those words would sound childish, meaningless. She knows that Grell knows better, though. Words like that are reserved for Sebastian, killer of her fiancee...and now him, killer of her aunt. She can see the pained expression on his face and it angers her, because he isn't allowed to feel like that. Remorseful. She needs him to be insane and sociopathic so she can kill him.
"I suppose you want to kill me," Grell says, keeping his voice steady as he stares at Elizabeth from across the room. She can see his chainsaw propped up in the corner, and the fierceness of the weapon briefly scares her. I will face this like an Englishwoman, she tells herself, brandishing the words and making her expression steely, With a stiff upper lip.
"Destroy is more accurate," she snarls in a tone so cold icicles practically fall to the floor. Grell looks at the floor, wearing a wistful expression on his pale face, his yellow-green eyes saddened. Lizzie feels the rage bubble up inside, and suddenly she snaps. To hell with stiff upper lip, she thinks as a feral scream escapes her lungs.
"Stop! Stop it, you damned reaper! You are...you are not allowed to look like that! So sad...so human," she sobs, her throat sore from shrieking, "She was my aunt! My aunt, the one who loved me, and she took care of me. You...you took her away from me for fun! It was all a game, wasn't it? And it's still a game. Well, that ends here." Not making a sound, she leaps towards Grell, her sword pointing right at his throat. Grell stares at the tip of the blade with an impassive face, an eye twitching.
"You don't want this," he whispers, "There's no going back."
"Don't tell me what I want," she growls. And, with a flick of her wrist, she slices the blade across Grell's cheek, leaving a clean slash behind. Crimson blood trickles down the palest skin, and Grell's eyes flutter, as if something stirs within him. Very slowly, with Lizzie's eyes trained on him, he pulls his glove off and wipes a finger along his cheek. He holds his hand up to the light, examining the sheer red liquid.
"I haven't seen my blood in a long time, Elizabeth," he says. Her eyes widen as she watches a catlike smile curl the edges of Grell's lips upward, pointing toward his shrinking pupils as he grins at her. "Not since that delicious boat ride when I got to play with Sebastian. Oh, such a delight. So much blood..."
Grell sounds different now. He doesn't sound like a playful mentor, but terrifying. She can hear the danger warning in his syrupy voice, and see it in the flamboyant pop of his hip as he giggles. It's unnerving to hear a death god giggle. Then, before Lizzie can even blink, Grell's two yards away from her, reaching for the chainsaw. "I used to love seeing blood, Lizzie, darling. Mine, other's, whomever's...it's just so delightful." She feels the fear rising, reaching the height when Grell whips the chainsaw towards her.
"And it's been such a long time since I had a death match!" he squeals, all excitement and bouncing as he brandishes the weapon. This is not the Grell she's come to know anymore. It's an entirely different person. This is who killed Aunt Ann, she realizes, seeing the bloodlust in this Grell's mannerisms, This Grell. And this is who I have to kill. She pushes down her terror and curls her lip as she feels the coolness of the death scythe Sebastian gave her press into her side, hidden from Grell. Pursing her lips, she holds up her swords and raises her chin high.
"I apologize for your forthcoming death," she intones, channeling her strong mother who she's never wished for more than now. Grell smiles, laughs a little, and starts his chainsaw.
"Likewise, darling."
