The Reaper, Tormented
"Grell Sutcliff."
"Nn? Will-! You came to visit me-?"
He was silenced abruptly as the elder's scythe tore a chunk from the wall, uncomfortably close to his face.
"...Will...?"
"Renounce it at once and the consequences for you will be minimal."
"What-?"
The scythe came again, ripping the fabric of his shirt, near his shoulder.
"Where is the mark, Grell Sutcliff."
"Mark-?"
William's eyes had gone from bored to murderous.
"The demon's mark."
He felt the color drain from his face and knew there was no bluffing his way out of this; he had been betrayed by a reaction that was beyond his control. The harsh eyes flashed; Grell had to choice but to obey.
His hands fumbled with his tie and the buttons on his vest and shirt, trembling as he pulled the cloth away from his left collarbone, revealing the only-recently-healed mark, a vibrant, deep red on his chest.
William's eyes narrowed, glaring at the other reaper.
"...To take on such a mark..." he hissed. "A disgrace..."
Grell closed his shirt with shaking hands, color rushing back into his cheeks, leaving two ruddy patches on the sickly yellow-white.
"Where is he?"
"...I...I don't...know..."
"Then call him here."
The reaper bit his lip, unwilling to comply.
"Grell. Sutcliff."
His eyes met Will's, desperate and pleading. There was no mercy in the second pair.
"Your petty infatuation with that beast has gone too far. Summon him here this. Instant."
He intended with every fiber of his being to remain silent, but William's scythe struck again, lopping off a thick chunk of the reaper's hair; red fell to the ground in coils. The sharp end of the scythe was then pointed at him directly, hovering inches away from his cheek.
"I won't warn you again, Grell Sutcliff. I had never thought your incompetence would extend to this sort of betrayal..."
A whimper passed his lips; the scythe jerked forward, pressing into his skin, very nearly breaking it.
"Summon the demon."
"All right-! Please, just...!"
The scythe retracted enough to just rest against his flesh. Grell's eyes were downcast; he spoke to his shoes, tears welling in his eyes.
"S...Sebas...tian..."
He always seemed to appear, to simply materialize at the sound of his name. True to form, he arrived all but instantly, had assessed the situation in a similar amount of time, and taken measures to remove William's scythe from Grell's immediate person...
Neither of the pair had expected the presence of the other shinigami; distracted, as they had intended him to be, by the clear and present danger Grell had been in, the demon had been ill-prepared for the dozen or so other scythes that shot from the darkness.
"NO-!"
He had managed to avoid the first few, but there were simply too many in so narrow a space. He was suspended, pierced by at least half a dozen in various places; Grell couldn't help but jump up, weaving through them to land lightly on two that had missed, but were close to the demon's body. A trickle of blood crept from the corner of his mouth and he had been rendered immobile, but he turned his head at the hesitant, feathery touch to his shoulder.
"Grell Sutcliff! Return to the ground!"
He only reached out to touch Sebastian's cheek. The demon managed a smirk.
"...You know what to say, don't you?"
"Grell Sutcliff!"
He nods.
"You...you can't...you're not allowed to-!"
He was cut off as the two scythes he stood on were retracted and he fell, landing hard on his back.
No-! I have to-!
But the fall had been enough to paralyze him; he couldn't move, couldn't speak, as William calmly stepped forward, leisurely positioning his scythe and sending it lancing through the demon's heart...
}~X~X~X~{
He woke with his throat hoarse from shouting, drenched in an icy sweat and trembling violently. For a wild moment, he couldn't piece together where he was; the sterile white walls and almost complete lack of furniture were unfamiliar. As the grip of the nightmare faded, reality reasserted itself and he recognized the room as his cell. It had only been two days since his imprisonment, and he lived under constant surveillance, yet in isolation.
After a long moment of regulating his respiration, he pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in them and beginning to cry.
This is all my fault...if I'd just kept my mouth shut about contracting with him...if I hadn't asked...
The dull ache he was familiar with was sharper today; it wasn't the pain he'd been through recently, caused by the contract. It was a deeper hurt, the manifestation of heart-sickness and worry. Sebastian was still alive, he knew that. The seal was still on his chest. The reapers had been uncertain if any unusual effects would come from forcefully breaking the contract between them, and as such, Grell could only surmise that Sebastian was somewhere else, in a similar cell.
The image from the nightmare flashed across his mind again, of Sebastian hanging in a grotesque mockery of a crucifixion. It was hard to tell himself that his lover was-hopefully-unharmed after such a vivid and probable vision.
They had seen each other once, briefly since being brought to headquarters, and it had been under almost the same conditions as when they had been ambushed. Sebastian had been shackled, they were both restrained, held on opposite sides of an empty room, with a scythe to each of their throats. It had been arranged for the sole purpose of his ordering Sebastian not to attempt any violence or escapes.
He missed the demon's warm, reassuring embrace, his soft voice and soothing touch. The mortal world could have fallen apart around them, and he wouldn't have cared...at this point, he would have preferred it.
Was someone even going to come in to make sure he was all right? From the way his throat felt, he'd been screaming too loud for too long...someone must have heard...
He finally lifted his head to wipe his eyes and caught sight of the mirror set into the wall. Of course. That was why no one had bothered to check. Through the other side of the glass, they could see him. He could only see his tearstained reflection.
He could feel it welling up again; the twisted, irrational, bloodthirsty side of him. Jack wanted out again; Jack wanted more blood.