They didn't have sex that night, which was surprisingly okay by Ronald. Sure he would have liked to, but Undertaker was still so troubled by what had happened to him in the parking lot and finding that note in his own garden, Ronald didn't press him. Instead, they enjoyed a nice, intimate dinner together and a nightcap, followed by talking for hours about various things. Ronald learned a bit more about Undertaker's former days with Dispatch, and he in turn told him stories of his own experiences in the field. They stripped down and held each other, kissing and caressing until Ronald finally drifted off to sleep. It was different for him to share a bed with a lover without going all the way—particularly after they'd already done it once. That was how he knew he really was falling for this kooky old ancient; he didn't need it to go that far all the time.

As he slept, Ronald was treated to some interesting dreams. First he dreamt that he went back in time and joined Dispatch when the Undertaker was still on active duty. He dreamt that he started training under him, and he dreamt that he came upon Victor Tally attacking him and intervened. The dreams became darker, after that. He dreamed about Fluffy, and he tossed fitfully in his bed as his mind conjured the scene of the rabbit's death. He dreamt that he caught the culprit in the act, but he couldn't make out his face. He then dreamt that Victor Tally was back from the dead and came after his lover, torturing him to death before Ronald or Dispatch could arrive on time to save him.

"Undertaker," cried Ronald, sitting bolt upright in the bed with wide, panicked eyes. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and he sighed in relief and started to reach out for the reaper he thought should be lying next to him. Undertaker's side of the bed was empty. Confused and disoriented, Ronald snatched up his glasses from the nightstand by the bed and he gave a little start when he realized his lover was standing by the bed motionlessly, staring down at him.

"'Taker? Man, I'm sorry…did I wake you up?"

The mortician didn't move. His eyes glittered beneath his bangs, barely visible under the fringe. Ronald scratched the back of his head and he crawled over to that side of the bed, reaching up and out to wave his hand before the ancient's blank gaze. "You sleepwalking, beautiful?"

Still there was no verbal answer, but Undertaker tilted his head to the side and started to smile. It sent chills up and down Ronald's spine. He'd never seen this happen before and it was more than a little unsettling. He tried to recall something he'd heard about sleepwalkers and how to deal with them. You weren't supposed to startle them, right? He decided to try talking to him, thinking maybe he could coax him back into bed and he could just forget about this creepy moment.

"Okay, I can tell you're not all 'there' right now." Ronald started to reach out for him with the intention of taking his hands. "Just come back to bed, a'right? H-hey! Where ya going?"

Undertaker had slowly turned and started to walk away from him, heading for the door. As Ronald watched in bewilderment, the ancient took a robe off the hook on the door and slipped it on. Ronald paled as his lover pulled the hood up over his head. That robe…it was the same kind his attacker had been wearing yesterday, according to Eric's description of the assailant.

"What the bloody hell's going on here?" whispered Ronald. He spoke louder as he called out to his lover. "Undertaker, stop! I dunno what you're planning on doing, but you're not awake!"

He scrambled out of the bed and snatched up his pants, tugging them on hastily to follow the older reaper as Undertaker left the bedroom and moved through the house like a phantom. The young Dispatch agent was getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he hurried to keep up with him, calling out to him in vain all the while.

"'Taker, wait! What are you…up…to?"

Ronald stopped in his tracks and stared as the ancient went to his writing desk in the shop section and picked up the stylus sitting in the ink well. As he watched, the Undertaker retrieved a slip of stationary from his box and began to scrawl on it. Now just as curious as he was wary, Ronald came up quietly behind him and leaned around him to see what he was writing.

"I saw you."

"What the fuck?" whispered Ronald to himself as the mortician replaced the stylus, picked up the note and headed back into the living space. Ronald jumped out of his way and then followed behind him, and that feeling of dread increased with each tick of the clock. Undertaker went into the kitchen and placed the note on the counter—right about where he would be preparing breakfast in the morning. He then turned to look at Ronald, and the younger reaper got the strange feeling that it wasn't his lover staring back at him right now. The ancient put a bone-pale finger to his lips.

"Shh." Undertaker then smiled at him in that chilling way that reminded Ronald of the sort of smiles his "mortician" persona so often gave. He moved aside again with wide eyes as the Undertaker began gliding toward him, and he tensed, half-expecting an attack. The older reaper paid him no more mind as he slipped past him into the hallway and went back into the bedroom.

Ronald's heart was thudding like a hammer in his chest as he crept after him and peeked into the bedroom. Undertaker was back in bed, nude once more. He'd hung the robe back on its hook and was now lying on his back with one leg bent and one arm flung out, apparently peacefully asleep. Ronald cautiously approached, his mind piecing together possibilities that he didn't even want to think of.

"'Taker?" he whispered, gingerly nudging his out-flung arm.

"Mmph," muttered the ancient. He rolled onto his side.

Ronald swallowed and bent over him, ready to jump away if he swung out at him. "Undertaker…baby…you okay?"

One white-lashed eye fluttered open to look at him, the double-irises contracting and expanding independently of each other as his vision focused. "Mmm? Oh, Ronnie." He yawned and smacked his lips, and then he gave him one of those fond smiles that the blond had become used to from him. "'Course I'm all right, love. Why wouldn't I be? Had a nightmare, did you?" He reached out absently to pat Ronald's hand, resting on his shoulder. "Come to bed. I'll snuggle it away."

At any other given time, Ron would have jumped at the offer. Now, however, he was spooked to the roots of his hair. If Undertaker wrote that note to himself unwittingly, then it was just as likely he'd attacked Ronald in the parking lot and killed his own rabbit. There might not be another culprit at all…or the notes were just something he started doing after all this started…maybe 'cause he had a guilty conscience? He was so haunted…there was no telling for sure without further investigation.

"I'd do it in a heartbeat," Ronald made himself say, "but something's come up and I've been called in. Sorry, but I've gotta go."

The mortician frowned a bit. "Pity. Well, you know where I'm at, when you finish this call-out. You're always welcome, darlin'."

Ronald felt an ache in his chest, and his wariness of the older reaper lessened a bit. Whatever the hell was going on, Undertaker wasn't doing it deliberately…of that much, he was certain. Ronald bent over and kissed him softly on the lips, and then he sought out the watch he'd gotten for him, sitting on the bedside table on the ancient's side of the bed. He picked it up and tucked it into his lover's long-nailed hand, closing Undertaker's fingers over it.

"I know. I'll be back later…promise. I've just got to take care of some things, okay? Try not to stress too much over this stalker business, and get some sleep."

"It'll be a bit harder without my dormouse to cuddle," muttered the Undertaker with a sigh. He folded his hands over the watch and pillowed his cheek on them, and his accent thickened with that Finnish influence. "I will do my best, darling love. Just lock up when you leave, would you?"

Ronald swallowed again for a different reason, and he stroked the ancient's slightly tangled, silver hair. "Sure. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

With a sigh, he collected the rest of his discarded clothes and his phone, and on his way out he also took the note that Undertaker left for himself in the kitchen. Not only would it serve as evidence, but there was no sense in leaving it there for the man to find and freak out over. After making sure the place was locked up tightly, Ronald summoned a portal that would take him back to Shinigami London. He had about three hours before work started, but there was no way he could get back to sleep now and after seeing all that, he wasn't sure he was safe sleeping beside his lover.

William was faintly startled to find Ronald Knox waiting outside his office door when he arrived at work. He checked his watch impulsively, wondering if it was wrong and he was actually late. It seemed to be working just fine. "Well, this is certainly a unique development," he observed aloud. "You're actually early, Knox. Did Hell just freeze over?"

"Ha ha, boss," answered the younger reaper. "I'm here early 'cause I've really got to talk to you about something. It's very important, so can I come into your office with ya?"

Puzzled but intrigued, William unlocked his door and nodded. "Very well. I must admit that you've got my curiosity piqued."

He held the door open and gestured for the blond to go in first, and when he did, William followed and closed the door behind them. "Please have a seat," he instructed, gesturing at the visitor chair on the other side of his desk. As Ronald did so, he went to his leather swivel chair behind the desk and sat down, himself. He laced his fingers together on top of the table and regarded the other reaper expectantly. "Well, what can I do for you?"

Ronald sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. "I really don't know, sir. Something very strange happened this morning at 'Taker's place, and it's got me kind of freaked out."

William frowned. It took a lot to shake Knox, so he knew it must be fairly serious. "Did the stalker do something again?"

Ron grimaced and reached into his blazer pocket. He pulled out a slip of stationary and he slid it across the desk to William. "You could say that."

William looked at the scrawl on it, and he raised a brow. "What is it he supposedly saw the Undertaker doing, Ronald? It makes no sense."

The younger agent bit his lip and shook his head. "I'm thinking it means he saw us together…but boss…Undertaker wrote that himself. I saw him do it."

William blinked in confusion. "Why on earth would the man write a note like this to himself? Make sense, Ronald."

"I'm trying to," insisted the blond in frustration. "Look, I couldn't tell you why or when it started, but Undertaker's been walking in his sleep. We were in bed together and I woke up to find him standing there early this morning. He looked…different. Demented."

"One could argue that the Undertaker normally appears that way," reminded William dryly.

"But that's just an act," explained Ronald. "He's a totally different guy under those crazy grins and laughter…trust me! The Undertaker I've gotten to know is kind of eccentric, but he's no lunatic. Anyhow, he went and got his robe and I noticed…well, it reminded me of the description Eric gave of what that guy who attacked me was wearing."

William's frown returned. "Coincidence, perhaps." As unhinged as he knew the Undertaker was, he had trouble believing that the man would attack his own lover or kill his own rabbit. "It's possible that his own anxiety over the situation drove him to subconsciously write that note to himself, Ronald. Did he get aggressive with you at all when he was walking in his sleep?"

Ronald shook his head. "No, but after he wrote the note, he looked at me and…well, it was creepy. He shushed me and he smiled, and then he just walked back into his bedroom, took the robe off and laid back down. Boss, I'm worried about him. It was like someone else was looking back at me. Do you think…I dunno…can reapers get possessed?"

"There have been cases of such documented before," answered William, "but Ronald, I think you may have to come to terms with the possibility that the Undertaker has multiple personalities. The man you've come to know may not even be aware of the others, regardless of whether he puts on an act for people or not. This has me concerned—not just for his safety, but for yours. I think perhaps it's time we brought him in for psychological evaluation."

Ronald started to protest. "I don't wanna do that to him, boss. I…" he trailed off as William gave him a stern look, and he sighed. "Let me talk to him, before ya send a bunch of agents to try and bring him in by force. Maybe if I tell him what I saw he'll come in on his own."

"Knox, I would rather you not return to that place alone," warned the supervisor. "If the Undertaker is actually the one behind all of these things that have been happening, there is no telling how he may react or what he may do. As much as I admire the man for his past services to Dispatch, I cannot allow him to become a threat again."

A thought occurred to him, and he frowned. "Wait…the attack on you occurred yesterday."

Ronald nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"Yesterday was not one of his allotted 'free days', Knox. Dispatch would have alerted me if he'd left the premises of his shop…and even had it been one of his free days, he is not permitted to travel far from his residence—certainly not to our realm without an escort."

Ronald started to relax a bit. "Oh, right! So it couldn't have been him that attacked me!"

"One would think," said William cautiously. "But there have been glitches with his tracking collar before, as you may recall. It's equally possible that he found a way to tamper with it, so as not to alert us. Whether he is consciously aware of it or not, we shouldn't assume that writing mischievous notes to himself is the extent of his involvement in what's been happening. This matter must be looked into, one way or the other."

"Well, how about I find a way t' test his collar?" reasoned the blond. "Maybe I can get him to step outside for a minute, and that way you'll know if it's still working right."

"And how do you intend to do that?" Questioned William. "I doubt you could budge the man on your own if he does not wish to move."

Ronald shrugged. "I'll think of something. Even if I've gotta fib a little and tell him I got him an extra free day. I hate the thought of lying to him, but if that's what I've got to do so we'll know if the collar's working, then that's what I'll do."

"It's a dangerous gamble you wish to take, Ronald. Whether the note was a simple case of sleepwalking or whether the Undertaker suffers from a case of possession or schizophrenia, you risk him turning on you."

"He's not gonna do that," Ronald insisted. "He would have done it this morning, if that was going to happen. Please boss, just let me do this, and you can call me as soon as you get confirmation that the collar's working. Once that happens, I'll tell him what happened this morning and try t' convince him to come in and get looked at."

William sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I will allow this, but only if there are fellow Dispatch agents nearby to back you up, should things go wrong. Is that clear, mister Knox?"

"Crystal," agreed Ronald. "I'll ask Grell and Eric to be my backup, and they can wait down the block while I go there after work."

While he still had reservations about this plan, William nodded in agreement. If there were a way to get to the bottom of this without a confrontation with the legendary reaper, he would take it.

Undertaker was quite pleased when his young lover came to his shop later that afternoon, bringing with him a bottle of wine. He smiled as he let Ronald in, and he leaned over to give him a hello kiss. "What's this you've brought me, love? Trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?"

"Do I really have to get you drunk to do that?" teased the younger reaper after returning his kiss. "I just passed a bottle shop on my way here and I thought you might like some red. But hey, guess what? We don't have to eat in tonight if ya don't want to."

Undertaker's brows went up. "Eh? My next free day to go out isn't 'till tomorrow, though."

"Knoxy pulled some strings for ya," said Ronald with a wink. "I got you an extra day, so how about it? Let me take you somewhere nice, to make up for having to take off on you this morning."

"Ah, you don't have t' fuss about that," assured the mortician with a wave of his pale hand. "I used to be in Dispatch too, remember? I know what it's like to have to be available at a moment's notice. No harm done."

"But I still feel bad about it," insisted Ronald, "and you cooked last time, so let me treat ya tonight." He set the bottle of wine down on a nearby coffin lid, and he put his arms around the ancient's slim waist and kissed the scar on his throat. "Come on, 'Taker. Let me do this for you, hmm?"

The older reaper's arms went around Ronald in return, and he hummed in pleasure as the blond coaxingly kissed his neck. "Hmm, you're really tempting me," he admitted with a sigh, his accent changing as Ronald's seductive actions tickled his senses. Ronald's attentions moved to his earlobe and the Undertaker purred as his teeth nibbled the sensitive area. He chuckled helplessly and blushed as the younger reaper blew into his ear, a thrill racing through him.

"Come on," coaxed Ronald. He ran his hands over the mortician's shoulders and chest, and then he took his hands in his and started moving backwards toward the door, drawing Undertaker with him. "What's it gonna hurt?"

Undertaker grinned. "Persistent, aren't you? Oh, all right…you've talked me into it. I'll just grab my hat and we can be on our way."

Ronald nodded and he watched as the mortician retrieved his hat from the rack near the door. They stepped outside together, and Undertaker squinted against the early evening sunlight. He tugged the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes, and he glanced down the street. "So, where do y' want to go?" he asked, slipping back into the British accent.

"Uh." Ronald scratched his chin. "You know, I haven't really thought of it. Just figured it would be a nice thing to do. How about that place down the block on the corner? I think it's a French joint."

Undertaker nodded. "That'd be good. I'm not too fussy, long as there's good food involved."

"Cool." Ronald started off, falling into step with the taller man. His phone went off and he quickly dug it out of his pocket to answer it. "Knox, here. Yeah boss, we're heading out to eat now. Oh yeah? Well that's good. Um, no…it's fine. I'll let you know. Okay, by sir."

He put his phone away and sighed, looking at his ghostly companion. "Well, that was my boss. He was just checking on something."

"You aren't being called in again, are you?" The Undertaker tried to hide his disappointment at the possibility. It had been a lonely day for him, and he'd woken up with an odd feeling of dread that he couldn't explain. He hadn't found anything suggesting his mystery stalker had come around again, but he still felt like he was being watched all day. Spending more time with Ronald was a comforting notion to him, and he even entertained thoughts of more intimacy later. Maybe this time he'd take on the role of the giver, rather than the receiver.

"No, nothing like that," assured Ronald with a curiously relieved smile. "I'm all yours tonight, sexy. The boss was just confirming something else work related, is all."

Undertaker relaxed, happy to hear his Knox time wouldn't be interrupted. His stomach rumbled and he chuckled, patting it. "Well that's a good thing, 'cause my gut's complaining for food now." He nearly put an arm around the younger man, but such a thing was ill advised in the mortal realm. Humans still had a ways to go before they would be accepting of same gender romance, after all.

Ronald felt some relief after getting that call from William. The tracking collar went off as normal when he and Undertaker left the shop, and William assured him that he would take care of things so that nobody went after the mortician. That one confirmation at least proved to Ronald that Undertaker wasn't the one that attacked him the day before. He thought about it as they waited to be seated at the restaurant. The person that had come at him in the parking lot had been wearing a hooded robe identical to the Undertaker's, but Ronald hadn't seen any wisps of white hair sticking out of it. All he'd seen Undertaker do was write that note to himself in his sleep, and while he'd acted really spooky, he hadn't been aggressive.

~So what does that mean? Did all this mess trigger some kind of subconscious guilt bomb? Is Spears-senpai right, and he just wrote the note in his sleep because he's stressed out?~

The host came to show them to their seats, and for a moment Ronald worried they might get turned away, because Undertaker was in his usual funeral director garb and the man was staring at him warily. He hadn't thought to check if there was a dress code for this place. Luckily, the host said nothing and asked them to follow him. He showed them to a table in the far corner of the dining area, evidently wishing to keep them far away from other customers so as not to spook them. Ronald shrugged it off. A private corner was better for him anyways, because he needed to talk to 'Taker about what happened early that morning.

"Bring us some glasses for this and some water," Ronald instructed the waitress that came to them as he set the bottle of red wine he'd brought with them on the table.

"Of course," she agreed in a softly accented voice, her gaze flicking to Undertaker somewhat nervously. "Would you care for hors d'oeuvres, gentleman?"

Ron shrugged and looked at the menu. "Um…what do you think, 'Taker? See anything you want? Don't say snails, man. I won't even go there."

Undertaker chuckled and looked over the appetizer menu, removing his hat to place it on the empty seat adjacent to him. He brushed his bangs aside to peer at the menu. "Hmm…the porcini mushroom tartlets looks interesting. Let's try those."

"Oui, monsieur. I shall place that order as I collect your glasses and water, and I shall take the rest of your order when I return."

She hurried off to do just that, and Ronald started to say something to his companion, trying to figure out how to put it. His phone buzzed and he sighed and pulled it out. He had a text from Grell asking him what in the hell was going on. With a grimace of annoyance, Ronald texted back that everything was fine and he would let him know what was going on later, when he had something useful to report. The waitress returned with the glasses and a pitcher of cool water, and she informed them the appetizer would be out shortly. Ronald picked out something he couldn't even pronounce for himself, and Undertaker selected the mussels with a side of onion soup.

"Okay, so I wanted to talk to you about something," Ronnie said when she left again to put in the order for their second course. He watched the older reaper closely, hesitating as Undertaker sipped his wine and looked at him inquisitively. "Are you okay, 'Taker? I mean, have you been feeling a bit…off?"

The ancient tilted his head, and a beam of orange light from the setting sun came through the little window behind him and illuminated him from behind. Ronald swallowed, thinking he looked positively angelic. Those eyes…Ron could never seem to look away from them. "How would you define feeling 'off', love?"

It took Ronald a moment to comprehend his words, because he was so entranced by how blasted stunning Undertaker was. "Er…not yourself? I know you've been through a lot of stress, but has anything else been happening that you haven't mentioned t' me?"

The Undertaker's faint smile dropped, and his snowy lashes concealed his bright gaze as he lowered his eyes. "Why would you ask such a question, Ronnie?"

Sensing that he was suddenly guarded, Ronald sighed. He didn't want to come off as accusing, and he feared the man might try to deny it if he told him what he'd seen without proof. Regretfully, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the piece of stationary he'd brought to work with him. He put it on the table and slid it over to Undertaker, wincing inwardly as the mortician stiffened upon seeing it.

"Where did you get that?" breathed the Undertaker, not moving.

"In the kitchen this morning," answered Ronald, "just before I left. You wrote it."

The mortician's brows furrowed in confusion and his gaze lifted from the slip of paper to Ronald. His bangs had shifted, partially concealing his eyes again. "Bollocks. I did no such thing."

Seeing the way his pale hand trembled on the table-top, Ronald shot a glance around before reaching out to lay his own hand on top of it. He spoke in a low voice, doing his best to sound concerned without sounding fearful or accusatory. "You were asleep, 'Taker. Something woke me up, and I found ya standing by the bed. Then you put on a robe and walked out, so I followed you 'cause I was afraid you'd go wandering out in the street or something. I saw ya write the note and put it on the counter, and then…"

He hesitated again, wondering if he should even mention the chilling smile Undertaker had given him before heading back to bed.

"And then what?" demanded the mortician. His face seemed frozen—expressionless.

Ronald shrugged, trying to play it down as just a weird moment. "You smiled at me, but it didn't seem like your smile at all. Least not the ones I've gotten used t' getting from you. It was kind of creepy, but you didn't do anything else. You just walked back into the bedroom, took your robe off and got back into bed. I nudged you awake and ya didn't seem to remember any of it…so I took the note when I left 'cause I didn't want you to get freaked out."

Ronald saw the waitress returning with their hors d'oeuvre and he released the older reaper's hand and sat back, trying to look casual. She set the plate down between the two of them, followed by two smaller plates so that they could share. Ronald thanked her since Undertaker was apparently too stunned to speak at the moment, and he dismissed her so they could eat and keep chatting.

"It's your handwriting, isn't it?" persisted the agent with a nod at the stationary.

Undertaker looked back down at the note, and his brows furrowed. "Well…in a way, I s'pose. It's a bit cleaner than mine, but…the style is…" He shook his head and had another swallow of wine. "You're not fibbing to me, are you?"

Ronald shook his head, entirely serious. "No way. You know me better by now. That'd be a piss-poor prank to play on you—especially since we're dating! Maybe I should have told ya right away, but…I was really worried. Needed to clear my head and think about it, 'cause you've been through enough and I didn't want to shock you, first thing in the morning. I was…trying to protect you."

The mortician smirked. "So instead, you decided to take me out to a nice dinner and shock me here in the restaurant."

Ronald grimaced again and reached for his wine. "I didn't claim it was a perfect plan. Just thought it might be easier to take over dinner, is all."

Undertaker nodded slowly. "Mm-hmm. In a public setting. Just in case I go off my rocker and try something, eh?"

Ronald sighed. "This is all going wrong. That isn't what I meant at all, but maybe some part o' me was worried about that. You could wipe the floor with me if you wanted to and I still respect that." He shrugged and sipped his wine. "Since I'm not sure what's going on with you, can you blame me? I asked you the other day if anything was wrong 'cause you were acting a bit off, but you said you were fine. If ya don't talk to me, how am I s'posed to know what's going on?"

Undertaker's expression softened, and he heaved a sigh of his own. He absently reached for one of the tarts and he popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully with his chin propped in one palm. "I can see your point. Sorry m'dear, but my excuse is the same as yours. Didn't want you to worry."

Ronald could accept that. "So that note you found in your garden the other day…I'm thinking maybe you wrote that one, too."

Undertaker shrugged. "Possibly." He frowned and took a sip of water to freshen his pallet. "Ronnie, you mentioned the bloke that attacked you was wearing a robe with a hood."

The younger reaper nodded. "That's what Eric said. I didn't get a look at him before he clobbered me." Recalling the chill he got when he saw the mortician don the hooded robe, he frowned too and he shook his head. "I think I know what you're thinking, 'Taker, and don't. It wasn't you."

"I sleep odd hours," muttered the ancient. "Conduct most of my business at night or in the wee hours, when you aren't visiting. If I've been moving about in my sleep—"

"Your tracking collar would have gone off," interrupted Ronald with a shake of his head, "and I know it's working right, because…ah, hell. I might as well confess and get it over with. Undertaker, this dinner date wasn't just to get ya out for a while and talk to you about all this. I set it up with my boss to test your collar, 'cause I wanted to be sure it wasn't you, before I had this talk with you. That call I got from him while we were on our way out was to let me know the collar's still working. We had to be sure, 'cause if you're going around clobbering people in your sleep…uh…well…"

He grimaced, reluctant to bring up the possibility that they'd been considering.

Undertaker picked up on what he was suggesting. "Then I might have killed Fluffy, too? Thought did cross my mind too, love."

"But I don't think you did," insisted Ronald. "I think the worst you've done is prank yourself…maybe 'cause you're so worried about history repeating itself. I…kind of wonder if you're trying t' scare yourself out of seeing me anymore, on some level."

"Ronnie," sighed the mortician. He started to say something, but he hesitated. Ronald could practically see the gears turning in his head as he thought it over.

"You're thinking the same thing, aren't ya?" Pressed the agent.

The mortician bowed his head, tapping his long black nails on the surface of the table. A humorless chuckle passed his pale lips and he reached for his wine glass. "It'd be just like me t' foil something I haven't had in such a long time, lad. Problem is, if I'm not doing all these shenanigans myself, then who's responsible for the rest? Someone killed my bunny, and someone attacked you in the parking lot—wearing robes like mine, according to you."

Ronald nodded. "But I don't think it was you," he reiterated.

The ancient's bright gaze flicked to him as he raised his head, and he shook his bangs aside to stare Ronald in the eye. "You don't think it was me, but how sure are you of that? Mayhap the collar's working now, but it could have gone wonky yesterday while I was having a rest…long enough for me to slip out and come pay you a visit."

Ronald swallowed. "Is that what you really think? You think you'd hurt me?"

The mortician kept gazing at him, uncommonly moody. Ronald couldn't blame him for that under the circumstances, but he didn't like the dread he could see churning behind those ancient eyes. He reached out to take his lover's free hand, unmindful this time of whether any of the other diners saw.

"Well I won't believe it 'till I see it with my own eyes," murmured the blond in determination. "You didn't try to hurt me this morning when you sleep-walked, and I don't believe you'd somehow find a way to turn off your collar, cross over to the reaper world without attracting any attention and club me just for the hell of it. Something else is going on and your little notes are just a symptom of it, 'cause it's all getting to you."

Undertaker looked down at the hand resting over his, the slight tan on it contrasting with his ivory pallor. "I don't know, love. Either way, you've already gotten hurt twice 'cause of me since we got involved."

"Okay, the first time was some asshole demon and that had nothing to do with you or your stalker—unless he's the one that set all this up as revenge on you. Hey, now that you mention it, that might be it! You said you knew the guy and his mistress, and you ran 'em out of town after he attacked me. Just because we didn't pick up any demon aura lingering in your yard doesn't mean he couldn't have made a deal with someone to come and do it just to fuck with you, right? The same guy could have been the one that sucker-punched me in the parking lot."

"And how many times have you seen reapers and demons making deals with each other, Ronnie? I mean aside from a few odd exceptions with Mr. Michaelis when the young earl wishes it?"

Ronald picked up another tartlet and examined it. "All right, so it's not the most common thing in the world—but it can still happen if both parties could gain something out of it, right? I mean, even my boss has cooperated with that raven demon before, and he can't stand their kind. All I know is I can't believe you'd kill Fluffy or hurt me."

"Not on purpose," agreed the mortician. He also selected another tartlet and he ate it and washed it down with some water. The waitress came back with their second course, and the Undertaker pushed aside his small plate to give her room to set down the platter of mussels and bowl of soup. "Thanks, darlin'."

She smiled at him a little nervously, and then she set down Ronald's duck entree. Then she refilled their pitcher of water and asked if they needed anything else, before taking her leave again. Ronald poked at his food curiously before taking a bite of it. Finding it to his liking, he regarded his date again. "Know what I think? I think you're stronger than that, 'Taker. I don't think you'd let your subconscious rule you that much. A note here and there 'cause you're conflicted is one thing, but someone else is behind the rest. Just gotta find out who and lay down the law on them."

He bit his lip and looked at the mortician with trepidation. "Unless…well, if you're really that worried about it, maybe you ought t' come in to Dispatch with me tomorrow. They could set you up for monitoring in a secured place, and if anything else happens around your place while you're away, we'll know for sure it's not you doing it."

Undertaker paused in the middle of scooping a mussel out of its shell. He stared at Ronald for a long moment, and the blond resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. "Was this your plan all along? To get me into custody?"

Having already anticipated and dreaded such an accusation, Ronald quickly shook his head. "No way, beautiful. Last thing I want is for you and Dispatch to have another confrontation. The only plan I had was to let you know what you did this morning and rule out the chance it might have been you in the parking lot. Spears wanted to bring you in but I begged him to let me talk t' you first and find out what's going on. I'm just suggesting it 'cause it might give you peace of mind and help us get closer to figuring out what's really going on, okay? I'll totally support you if you don't wanna do it."

He fully expected the man to outright refuse, but instead, Undertaker seemed to be seriously considering it. "Let's finish our dinner and spend a bit of time together. I'll think on it."

Ronald shrugged. "That's cool. I just want you to know I'm on your side."

The mortician finally gave him one of those gentler, affectionate smiles, and Ronald felt better for the first time since that morning.

After their meal, the couple returned to Undertaker's shop. Conversation was subdued between them as they strolled back together, both of them swimming in thoughts of what the future might bring and how they were going to fix this mess. After unlocking the door to let them in, Undertaker locked up behind him and they went into his living quarters. He gestured at the couch in the parlor in offering.

"Why not have a sit-down while I go and gather some fresh herbs from my garden for a spot of tea?"

Ronald started to do just that, but then he stopped and smiled at the ancient. "Ya know, I've never tried any gardening myself. Why don't I come with you to help?"

A part of him was afraid the mortician might find another creepy note from himself, and he wanted to be there with him if that happened.

Undertaker looked at him with visible surprise. "Never picked you as a fellow that would like that, Dormouse. Right then, if you'd like t' learn a few things, I s'pose there's no harm in it. Come along."

Ronald followed him through the house to the back door and he waited as Undertaker unlocked it. They stepped outside into the back yard together, and as they approached his herb garden, the mortician suddenly stopped so abruptly that Ronald ran into him from behind.

"Damn, warn me next time," griped Knox. Undertaker wasn't moving. Curious and a little anxious all the sudden, Ronald peeked around the taller man's body to see what had made him halt his approach so suddenly. His eyes widened and he cursed softly. Lying in the middle of Undertaker's garden was a body—obviously a dead one. Male, approximately in his early twenties with feathered blond hair, he bore an eerie resemblance to Ronald. He was shirtless and someone had carved a word into his chest.

"Not yours."

Ronald manifested his death scythe and stepped between Undertaker and the body, keeping a sharp eye out for danger. Behind him, he could hear the ancient draw a sharp breath, and then he spoke in a low voice.

"My, my. That wasn't there earlier."

-To be continued