Though they only got one night in the suite, their Honeymoon phase went on for over two more weeks before they settled down and managed to keep their hands off one another for longer than five minutes. Undertaker spoiled Grell rotten, catering to his every need and brushing off his cranky moments. The redhead nearly passed out twice during the second week, and Undertaker made him take bedrest. To make up for it, he brought him meals in bed and wheeled his phonograph into the bedroom to play music for him. The one thing he couldn't offer that Grell sorely missed were the soaps he used to watch on TV. He could take Grell's television out of the storage room and get power to it, but he couldn't tune into Shinigami broadcasting and humans were still years away from the invention. Books and his own company were all he could give his love for entertainment.

"When you feel better, I'll take you to a show," promised the mortician. "How would you like that, darlin'?"

Grell perked up a little. "Make it a romantic tragedy and I shall reward you most handsomely, darling."

The mortician grinned. He normally preferred to stay in, but for Grell's sake he would brave the night life of London, if only to please him. "You've got a deal, love." He leaned over to kiss the crown of his head. "Now how about I draw us a warm bath before bedtime, hmm?" He laid his hand protectively over the growing mound of Grell's belly. It had expanded further over the past two weeks. He predicted that it wouldn't be much longer before they could feel the baby moving.

"A bath would be wonderful," sighed Grell, laying a hand over his husband's. "Pity I can't take them as hot as I'd like, but I don't want to cook our child."

The older reaper snickered softly. "I'm glad you're being reasonable about that." He gave him a kiss on the lips. "I'll go and get the water flowing."

Grell sighed and watched him go, smiling despite his miserable boredom at being consigned to bedrest. His silver prince was so very good to him. He hardly felt like he deserved him at times, and he thought he'd make an excellent father. He had his doubts about his own parenting abilities, but he believed Undertaker would take up his slack. The man had been reading baby books since he first learned he was going to be a father, and it made Grell's heart swell with love for him.

"Who would have thought that I would one day have a family," mused the redhead to himself. Certainly not him, and certainly not with the Undertaker, of all people. How quickly his life had changed. Sometimes he felt a bit overwhelmed by it all, but his sweet madman was always there to comfort him and make him feel safe.

"Mmm…Undy? Undy, wake up."

The mortician came awake with a little start, his mind immediately going on alert. He rolled over to face his spouse and he immediately put his hand over his abdomen. "S'it the baby?" he mumbled sleepily.

Grell shook his head and grinned at him. "No darling, the baby is fine."

The mortician shut his eyes and smiled, dropping his head back to the pillow. He patted the rounded tummy and yawned. "Oh, good."

"I'm hungry."

Undertaker opened his eyes, puzzled. "There are leftovers from last night in the cold box."

He'd set up Grell's refrigerator in the kitchen, to better preserve foodstuffs that otherwise would have spoiled if not used right away. The appliance also had Grell's medicine in it to keep it fresh.

"But I want ice cream. Would you go and fetch me some from the market?"

The mortician's brow furrowed, and he rolled over to peer at the clock on the nightstand. "It's after two in the morning, lovely. I do know of a couple of parlors in London, but not a one of them would be open at this hour. Can't it wait 'till tomorrow?"

The ice cream cravings were fairly new. They started roundabout the time when Grell's morning sickness came to an end, and he'd already eaten all the ice cream they had in the freezer portion of the cold box.

"The supermarket in the Shinigami realm will still be open," insisted Grell. "It is a twenty-four hour grocer."

Undertaker groaned softly into his pillow. "And you want me to go out right now and get it? Darlin', couldn't I just fetch you some cookies and milk to snack on?"

Grell pouted. "But…I want ice cream."

The older reaper rolled back over to face him, his bangs completely covering his eyes. Grell batted his eyelashes at him and gave him his most engaging smile. "Please? For me? I'm carrying your baby, after all."

Undertaker huffed, helpless to resist such a plea. He chuckled and shook his head, before leaning in for a kiss. "You're too adorable to resist, pet. Very well…for you. I don't want a cranky pregnant lady denied her favorite snack on my hands, anyway."

Grinning in triumph, Grell kissed him back and ran his fingers through the pale silk of his thick tresses. "Thank you, my love. I know I'll be able to sleep better once I've had some ice cream."

"Or you'll have another tummy ache," grunted Undertaker as he got out of bed and flicked on the bedside lamp for a little light. He glanced over his shoulder when he reached the wardrobe. "Try not to eat the whole bucket in one go this time, darlin'."

Grell slipped on his glasses and he admired his husband's backside as Undertaker located a pair of pants and put them on. He sighed when the pale, firm ass was concealed as Undertaker pulled the trousers up and fastened them. He could almost skip the ice cream in favor of dragging that tall, beautiful body back into bed to ravish it…but his stomach rumbled and the craving nipped at him mercilessly.

"I promise to behave, as long as you bring back my favorite flavor," Grell said.

Undertaker nodded and pulled a long, button-up shirt on. "Cherry-vanilla swirl," he recited, quite familiar by now with Grell's tastes. "I'll be sure to get some additional cherries for topping, too."

Grell sighed happily and pulled the covers further up to his chin. "Thank you, darling. I promise to reward you handsomely after I've had my ice cream."

The mortician glanced up from the task of buttoning his shirt and he smirked at him. "You'd better, cheeky little thing."

Everything seemed to be going fine, and one day a week later Grell was expecting Ronald to come and visit. Undertaker was out at the market, making purchases to accommodate Grell's increasing food cravings. Grell was preparing a light lunch and refreshment for when his former student arrived, slowly rubbing his expanding belly beneath the red velvet, empire-waist gown he wore. He'd taken to dressing as a lady regularly, as it was the easiest way to get about London in his condition without raising some eyebrows. His long crimson hair was bound in a single braid down his back, with a scarlet ribbon woven into the twisted locks for accessorizing.

He left off rubbing his stomach and he touched the black, lacy ribbon around his throat, smiling softly to himself. Undertaker had given it to him as a gift just the night before. Dangling from the ribbon was a pendant in the shape of a perfect red rose. He said it reminded him of Grell immediately when he saw it in the boutique window, and he'd bought it on impulse even though Grell had warned him not to spend too much of his hard-earned cash on him. With his maternity leave benefits, Grell was taking care of the utility bills and baby things they needed, leaving only the groceries to Undertaker so that he could afford to restock his supplies.

But the stubborn old creep couldn't seem to resist bringing him home gifts every time he went out to get something. Grell chuckled softly and finished putting together the sandwiches. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy all of the doting, but he still felt terrible that his love had sold off some of his own belongings just to set up the house for Grell to move in. He didn't feel he deserved all these gifts, and he'd secretly arranged with Ronnie to track down some of the items Undertaker sold so that he could buy them back for him.

He heard the tinkle of the bell from the shop in the front, and he smiled and waddled out from the living section into the front. "Coming," he called, seeing a familiar blond head on the other side of the window, peeking in. He couldn't move very quickly anymore; his pregnancy had gotten cumbersome and he was due in another two months. He dreaded to think of how much bigger his stomach was going to get, but he still wasn't quite as round as most women in his trimester.

Ronald grinned widely as Grell unlocked the door and opened it, his gaze traveling Grell's feminine form. "Hey, hot mamma," he greeted. He noticed Grell's bare feet and his brows went up. "Wow…he's literally keeping you barefoot and pregnant."

Grell smacked him lightly on the arm. "I'm currently without slippers because my feet have been swelling, silly boy. My shoes feel too tight right now. Come in, come in!" He made up for his swat by bestowing a kiss on Ronald's cheek as the blond stepped through the doorway.

"Why was the door locked?" asked Ron, glancing over his shoulder and shutting it behind him. "I thought Undy was keeping work steady to help support you."

"Oh, he is," assured Grell, "but it is the weekend, and I made him promise to put work aside on Saturdays and Sundays for some quality Grell time. I need some attention too, you know."

"And that must be a job by itself," teased the younger reaper. He dodged Grell's next slap and locked the door behind him. "But seriously…is he able to keep up with everything?"

Grell sighed. "Yes, Ronnie; you can stop worrying about that. My darling sees to all my needs and then some. Look at what he brought home to me last night." he patted the ribbon pendant and raised his chin to display his throat more. "Isn't it lovely?"

Ronald looked and nodded. "It suits you. So where is the old fart, anyhow?"

"Out shopping for groceries," answered Grell, leading the way back to the curtain separating the shop from the home. He rubbed his belly again and smirked down at it. "I've developed an insatiable appetite for ice cream. The poor man goes out three times per week to buy more for me, because I go through it like mad."

"Careful with that," warned Ronald. He held the curtain aside for Grell. "It'll all go to your hips."

"Funnily enough, I'm actually having some trouble keeping my weight up to an ideal level," sighed the crimson reaper. "I eat what the doctor tells me to eat and of course, I enjoy ice cream snacks in between, but I'm still considered a bit underweight for my stage of pregnancy."

Ronald's teasing tone faded. "Yeah, I was about to say you don't look like you've put on much, aside from the baby bump." He suddenly grinned, watching as Grell took the lead into the kitchen area. "Man, I never thought I'd see you with a pregnant waddle. That's cute."

"Yes, yes…everyone adores seeing Grell Sutcliff so clumsy and awkward," grumbled the redhead. "Enjoy it while it lasts, pest. As soon as I'm finished with this ordeal and recover enough, I'll be back in the office and I'll repay you for every teasing remark you make."

"Aw, don't be like that. It was s'posed to be a compliment."

Grell arched his back a little and rubbed the small of it, feeling the typical soreness creeping up on him. "If you want to compliment me, comment on how nice my hair looks, or how pretty my gown is. Reminding me of how ungraceful I've become doesn't serve to cheer me, Ronald. So, what's been going on in the office since I've been away? Any juicy gossip?"

The boy shrugged. "Nothing special. Humphries is in the hospital again, though."

"Wonderful," sighed Grell, "Just what I needed; depressing news."

He frowned, feeling the ache grow stronger and spread from the back to the front. He leaned against the counter and he gestured at the serving plate of sandwich wedges on the table. "Help yourself, darling. I'll just get the tea ready and—"

It hit him suddenly then, and he gasped and put a hand over his tightening abdomen. Ronald had taken one step toward the snacks on the table but he stopped at the sound of distress and turned. His eyes flicked to Grell's stomach and widened as they settled on Grell's tense, distracted face.

"Senpai?" he said it in the uncertain tone of a boy seeing his parent hurting.

Grell didn't immediately answer. He was listening to his body, trying not to panic. It could be false contractions. What did Undy and the doctor call them? Braxton Hicks? Some mothers experienced it in the third trimester…but knowing how high risk his pregnancy was, he didn't think he should take chances. Ronald's next exclamation cinched it for him.

"Senpai…you're bleeding!"

Grell felt the wetness dripping down his legs onto his foot, but he could no longer see his feet by simply looking down at them and he was afraid to try to lift one to investigate. "Call Dr. Francis," he panted, sinking to his knees with one hand on the counter and one on his stomach as the pain worsened.

"Shouldn't I call Undy?" asked Ronald nervously.

Grell shook his head. "No time. In fact, don't bother calling anyone right now. Just…make a portal and get me to the Shinigami hospital, Ronnie!"

Undertaker charged recklessly through the portal he'd created in the middle of the street, upon getting the phone call from Ronald. Arms laden with groceries, he knocked over some hapless reaper that was crossing by just as he entered the realm, and he ignored the man's protest and the loss of the produce that fell out of his bags from the impact. Ridiculously, he didn't let go of the groceries as he ran with all haste to the London division Shinigami hospital. His hat flew off and passing reapers ogled him, seeing little more than a blur of silver and black. He nearly got hit by a car and he leaped right over another one, losing more groceries on the way.

"Grell Sutcliff," he said to the medical receptionist once he made it into the lobby. He tapped his booted foot as she checked the records, wishing she'd move faster.

"He's on the third floor in room 7-3," she finally said, "He's been stabilized—"

Undertaker was already off and running again, taking the stairs in lieu of waiting for the elevators. He took the steps four at a time, bounding lightly with ghostly grace. That grace failed him once he reached the third floor and kicked the door open, however. He had a minor mishap with some monitoring equipment someone had left outside an empty room, crashing into it and sending it to the floor.

"Sorry about that," he announced breathlessly as medical personnel protested.

One of the nurses followed him into Grell's room, chastising him the whole way. He ignored her. He came stumbling in with the groceries still clutched in his arms—or rather, what was left of them—and he came to a screeching halt at Grell's bedside. Ronald was sitting in one of the visitor chairs and he looked up with surprise at the ancient.

"Wow, pretty fast for an old guy," he commented, checking his watch.

All that mattered to the Undertaker at the moment was the pale redhead lying in the bed, hooked up to a glucose bag and a pint of blood. He set the groceries on the floor and made to remove his hat—which was no longer there. "Grell, love," he murmured, taking both his hands and kissing the top of them.

"Sir, you can't be running like that in the hallways," chided the nurse that had followed him in.

"I'll make a note of that," promised the mortician. "Right now, all I care about is my wife."

The nurse went quiet, her expression softening a bit.

Grell opened his eyes and looked up at his husband. A weak smile curved his lips. "There you are," he whispered. "I knew…you'd come quickly."

"Not quickly enough," said Undertaker with merciless self-depreciation. "I should have been there."

"You can't…be there all the time, darling," said Grell forgivingly. "But Ronnie was there, thank death. The baby is…" he passed out.

Undertaker squeezed his hands helplessly, and he looked to Ronald. "What was he going to say, lad?"

"The kid's still there," assured Ronald. "They gave Senpai a sedative to calm him down. He's been drifting in and out ever since. Doc said he started to miscarry but they got to it in time."

Undertaker closed his eyes and dropped his head to Grell's stomach, resting his cheek on it. He felt movement and a tremulous smile found its way on his lips. "Tough little tyke," he whispered. "You just keep fighting for mummy and daddy, hear?"

He felt a subtle little kick against where his cheek was resting, and he chuckled. His heart was racing, and he felt a bit light-headed with relief. He raised his head off Grell's tummy and looked down at the rumpled grocery bags on the floor. "Well, I lost most of the groceries, but the ice cream was on the bottom." He looked up at the nurse. "Is there somewhere we could put it to keep it from melting? My rose loves ice cream most of all, and she would never forgive me for letting it go to waste."

"Of course, Mr. Undertaker," said the nurse, having evidently figured out who he was and forgiven him for the upheaval he'd caused. She took the bags and left with them.

Undertaker straightened back up with a sigh, combing his fingers through his mussed hair. "I promised him I'd be right by his side if anything went amiss."

"Hey, don't do that to yourself," Ronald said seriously. "You iare/i right by his side. I don't even know how the hell you got here so fast. Seems like I'd just hung up the phone with you when you came crashing in here."

The mortician shrugged. "Tried to portal straight to the hospital, but I was distracted and I ended up half a block away instead." He looked at the blond and he offered him a smile. "You were there when I couldn't be. You came through like a champ, love."

Whatever reserves of stoicism Ronald had mustered up seemed to evaporate, and his hand trembled as he loosened his tie for air that as a reaper, he didn't really require. "Are ya kidding me? I was scared out of my mind!"

The boy took a shuddering breath and got up, pacing. "Wh-when I saw the blood I thought…shit…"

Undertaker heard the little hitching sob he tried to muffle, and he circled around the bed to comfort him. "Here now, it's all right, lad."

Ronald impulsively threw his arms around the taller reaper and hugged him, betraying his vulnerability entirely. "I'd have never forgiven myself if somethin' happened to senpai or the baby 'cause I wasn't fast enough to get 'em here," he sniffled.

Undertaker patted his back awkwardly, not sure what to make of this new side of the boy. He was used to Ronald's mildly aggressive ways, used to him hinting that he had his eye on him because he wasn't quite convinced he was good enough for his senpai. Now he was crying against his chest like a child seeking comfort.

It occurred to the mortician that a child was precisely what Ronald was…least in reaper years. Some Shinigami never made it through the harsh, vigorous training of becoming reaper agents—which was why Dispatch was so short-staffed. Not everyone was cut out to reap souls, and it took its toll on a lot of death gods; young and old alike. It was easy to forget his own anxiety over the situation when this fledgling of a reaper clearly needed the guidance of an elder.

"There, there," he soothed, feeling oddly paternal. "Your senpai is safe now and so is the baby. You did good, lad. Stiff upper lip; you don't want any of those pretty nurses seeing you like this, do you?"

Ronald pulled away and wiped his eyes, sniffing as he shook his head. "No…no that would really suck. Ah, man…I'm sorry." He visibly tried to compose himself, straightening his tie and his uniform.

Undertaker smiled at him. "Nothing to apologize about. Why don't you go wash your face in the loo, while I have a moment with my wife?"

Ronald nodded, blinking. "Yeah…that's a good idea. Be back in a minute."

Undertaker waited until he left, and then he sat down on the edge of the bed and took Grell's hand in his. "Sorry I wasn't there, rose. I'm going to go and talk to your doctor as soon as your little friend composes himself, and we'll see what's going on."

He smiled, the expression coming with a bit more difficulty than usual, and he bent over to place a soft kiss on Grell's slack, parted lips.

"I'm afraid he'll need bed rest for the duration of his pregnancy, from now on," explained Dr. Francis when Undertaker came to his office. "While the bleeding wasn't terribly severe, it could have gotten much worse if Mr. Knox hadn't gotten him here so quickly to bring it back under control. A lot of women experience mild spotting during pregnancy so I wouldn't worry too much about that, but any further bleeding like that will require immediate medical attention. I understand you have as great an understanding of anatomy as we do here, Undertaker, but I'll remind you that our facilities are equipped much better for this, and your specialty isn't exactly in prenatal care and childbirth."

"No arguments there," assured the mortician, spreading his hands. He sighed. "So that's it then…complete bed rest. You wouldn't happen to have any literature for expecting husbands on how to deal with irate, bed-ridden pregnant wives, would you?"

The doctor chuckled. "I can offer you some pamphlets on how to take care of a bed ridden wife, but how you deal with the blowup is up to you. Now, this isn't to say that Grell can never get out of the bed, you understand. Short exercise periods are good for him, but he can only lift things under a certain weight, he is to take showers rather than baths if possible, and he's not to be on his feet for longer than ten minutes at a time."

Undertaker nodded. "I understand. Any changes to his diet or medications?"

"I'm prescribing a Shinigami medication specifically for high-risk expecting mothers that have bleeding and premature contraction issues," explained the doctor. "Aside from that, keep him on the same diet and prenatal care, and please keep me updated at the end of each week on how he is doing."

The mortician smiled. "You really care about him, don't you doctor?"

Dr. Francis shrugged and studied his paperwork. "I've known Grell since he was newly raised as a reaper. I care for him as much as a doctor can safely care for any of his patients."

"Right." Undertaker could think of one way to keep Grell in bed, but he wasn't sure it was a good plan of action. Never one to beat around the bush, he came out and asked about it. "What about lovemaking? He gets awfully cranky when he's not getting that sort of attention."

The doctor smirked slightly. "Just avoid it until he's recovered from this and suffers no further spotting, and avoid putting any weight on him. There are…er…certain things couples can do outside of intercourse that—"

"I know all about that," interrupted the Undertaker with a soft laugh. "No need to elaborate, chap."

His darling's body was so sensitive in some places, he was sure he could satisfy him without penetration, until he was sure he wouldn't hurt him or the baby.

"Good, then," sighed Dr. Francis with some relief. Clearly, he wasn't comfortable with the current subject of discussion; though he was too professional to say so. "I would like to keep Grell here for at least another day, until we're sure that the most recent threat has passed."

"Absolutely," agreed the mortician. "And I'll see to it he behaves."

"Well and good then." Francis sighed. "Undertaker, I'm sure you already know that the odds are against him for success. You might want to look into possible grief counseling for both of you if—"

"Won't be necessary, chap," insisted the mortician.

"But research suggests—"

"Research suggests other people's situations," Undertaker interrupted again. "This is Grell, and this is me. If I have to stay by his side twenty-four hours a day when he leaves this facility, then that's what I'll do."

"How will you get groceries," demanded the doctor. "How will you conduct your business?"

Undertaker thought about it, tapping his bottom lip with a black fingernail. He grinned. "I suppose I'll have to employ a bit of help."

"Ronnie, how do you feel about helping us out a bit for a while?"

The blond looked at Undertaker with slight surprise, glancing over at his sleeping senpai. "Well sure. What do ya need?"

Undertaker took the seat at the other side of Grell's bed and crossed his legs. "It's simple, really. Grocery duty."

Ronald's nose crinkled. "Eh?"

The mortician chuckled, endeared by the boy's reactions. "Food. Household goods. Ice cream and lots of it. I've decided in light of the doctor's prognosis that if Grell can't leave the home, neither can I. We'll need someone to bring us the things we can't get ourselves."

"Oh." Ronald scratched his head and looked down at Grell's sleeping form. "Yeah, I get that. Sure, I'll be happy to bring you groceries and stuff every week when I get off work, if it will help you out."

Undertaker nodded. "Thanks much, chap. I'll give you the money for it so you don't have to spend out of pocket."

Ronnie shrugged. "Don't mention it. I don't even mind pitching in a little, if it will help keep this from happening again."

Grell stirred in his hospital bed. "Mm…Undy? Darling?"

The older reaper took his hand and kissed it. "Right here, love."

Grell smiled sleepily up at him. "I'm…sorry." His crimson brows furrowed and he dropped his free hand over his belly. "Is the baby…still safe?"

"She is, darlin'," assured Undertaker. "She's just fine. You just have to rest and stay off your feet. I'm afraid you'll be stuck in bed for the rest of the pregnancy, except for brief moments."

Still drowsy from his meds, Grell sighed. "I thought so. It's all right. I want to meet her."

Undertaker kissed him on the forehead. "You will, my dear…you will. I'll see to it."

Grell smiled at him. "So sweet. My sweet, darling madman."

He fell back to sleep, and the Undertaker chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. "Anything for my Grell," he whispered.

He was kept in the hospital for another day, and he had to get around in a wheelchair when he wanted to leave his bed. It was frustrating, but Grell coped with it for the sake of his unborn. When he found out that Alan was also hospitalized, he paid him a visit. Undertaker was out getting some things he'd requested for home, and Ronnie was at work, so Grell wheeled himself to Alan's hospital room and he clumsily knocked on the door.

"Come in," came the weak call.

Biting his lip, the pregnant reaper pushed the door the rest of the way open with his foot and he rolled in to greet his associate. Alan lay pale and fragile in the bed, and Grell suddenly didn't feel so bad about his own predicament.

"Hello, Alan," he announced as he reversed his chair and backed up to the bed. He smiled at him once he got himself aligned next to the bed, and he took the suffering brunet's hand. "I heard you were in here, so I thought I would drop by to keep you company."

Alan returned the pressure of Grell's squeezing hand and he gave him a wan smile, turning his head on the pillow to look at him. "Eric said you were here. How is the baby?"

Grell placed his free hand over his abdomen and looked down at it. "Fine now. Darling's out gathering some things from the home that I requested. Where is Eric?"

"Doing the same." Alan chuckled softly. "We're both very lucky to have such devoted partners."

Grell nodded and grinned. "Oh yes, we are." He sobered a bit as he glanced at the monitors keeping track of Alan's vitals. "How bad is it, dear?"

Alan lowered his gaze, his breath wheezing a bit. "Worse than usual, this time. I…had to make Eric leave. He was so upset, and he needed to get out of here for a while. My request for some things from the apartment was really just an excuse…but please don't tell him I said that."

Grell swallowed, his hormones making him more emotional than usual. "Can I do anything for you?"

Alan shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. "Just visit for a while. Your company is welcome."

The crimson reaper felt like his heart was breaking. He knew Alan was dying…had prepared for it and accepted it…but he was such a nice fellow. "I'm so sorry."

The ailing brunet turned his head on the pillow to look at him again, and he offered another little smile. "It's okay. I plan to hang around for a while longer…at least until your child is born. I want…the chance to introduce myself and hold it."

Grell nodded, squeezing his hand again. "You'd better be here. She must meet her 'Uncle Al' at least once."

Alan chuckled. "Count on it, Grell. I'm so happy for you. Just try to take care of yourself, okay?"

Grell's vision blurred with tears and he blinked rapidly. "I will, you sweet man. There should be more reapers like you."

"Or not," argued Alan dryly, "else they'd all be infected by the Thorns. Dispatch would never get anywhere with a bunch of sentimental sods like me contracting this curse because we care too much."

Grell chuckled, appreciating the way Alan could make jokes even at such a tragic time. He sniffed and scooted his wheelchair a little closer so that he could lay his head on the mattress by the brunet's side. "Silly creature. Why, you would have been first on my list as a godparent. This is bloody unfair."

Alan freed his hand from Grell's to stroke his hair soothingly. "It makes me happy just to hear that, my friend. I'm sorry I won't be around to see her grow up."

Grell began to weep in spite of himself. "S-sorry," he mumbled, turning his face into the mattress. "I'm so b-blasted emotional right now."

Alan smiled forgivingly and he kept stroking his hair. "It's okay, Grell. You've had a scare. Just promise you won't cry for me too long when I'm gone, okay? I don't want people to be sad."

That just made Grell cry harder, and he reached out and clutched at Alan's hospital gown as if trying to hold him to this life. "Oh…unfair!"

"Shhh, it's all right," soothed Alan tenderly. He kept stroking Grell's hair and patting his back intermittently, comforting him as best he could as the redhead finally broke down over his impending death.

Eric returned to Alan's hospital room with a bag full of goods from their home, and he stopped himself in the process of greeting him. The brunet was asleep, and Grell Sutcliff was leaning forward on his wheelchair, his upper body resting on the hospital bed. One of Alan's hands was resting still on Grell's bright crimson head and the other was loosely holding his hand. The pregnant reaper appeared to have fallen asleep as well.

Eric smiled a little painfully and he quietly put his bag down before approaching. For lack of any other options, he removed his own blazer and gently draped it over Grell's shoulders to keep him warm. He then walked softly around to the other side of Alan's bed and he gazed down on him with love and admiration.

"Even when yer dyin', ya try ta comfort others," he whispered. He bent over to kiss Alan's forehead. "Saint Alan. If e'er a reaper deserved tha title, it's you, love."

He caressed his partner's pale, sleeping features before turning away and walking quietly out the door, loathe to disturb them. He saw the Undertaker wandering the halls as he closed the door behind him, and he signaled to him with a wave.

"If yer lookin' fer yer wife, he…ah mean 'she'…is in there wi' Alan. They're both asleep."

Undertaker's albino features relaxed a bit. "Well thank goodness. Nobody could tell me where Grell wandered off to." He looked at Eric with a faintly regretful expression. "Any improvement yet?"

Eric shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall and bending one leg to prop his foot against it. "None. I…I'm no' sure he'll make it out o' here, this time."

The ancient laid a hand over Eric's shoulder in sympathy. "Never give up on him, lad. True, his days are numbered, but if you give up the fight than so will he, and the Thorns will take him from you that much faster. Give him a reason to stay for as long as he can."

Eric rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "No' sure ah want him ta linger in pain, jus' fer my benefit."

"But I'm sure he would take another day of pain over leaving you sooner," reasoned the Undertaker softly. "I know if I were in his position, I would cling to every moment to be with my Grell. Honor his suffering, Mr. Slingby. He stays for you."

Eric nodded convulsively and took a deep breath. "Thank yeh, sir. I'll…try."

Undertaker patted his arm. "And that's the best you can do for him. Come…let's get a bit to eat while they rest. We can't be much good to either of them if we faint from hunger, can we?" He offered a bright smile to the morose Scotsman.

"Aye," sighed Eric in agreement, and he allowed the older reaper to put a comforting arm around him and guide him down the hall. "Yer no' such a bad fellow after all, Undertaker."

The mortician chuckled. "Don't let my sympathy fool you, friend. I'm as bad as they come."

-To be continued