That night, after Ronald bedded down in his small office, a voice whispered his name. "Ronald."
The blond didn't even stir. There was a barely audible sigh, and then the paperweight on the desk by the window suddenly jumped off of it and crashed into the glass, cracking it.
"Mmmm..." Ron moaned, rolling over onto his belly. "Will...I think...mouse...got in our tent..." He muttered, unsurprisingly lost in his dreams already. He really did love his sleep and it took a few more breakable items crashing to the floor to make him get up.
"Fine...I'll chase it out..." he sighed, sitting up and reaching for the glasses on the side table and clicking on the lamp.
Before him stood a ghostly phantasm in the form of William T. Spears, and he was wearing Ronald's glasses. There was no color to him and he was just slightly transparent, but otherwise he might have stepped out of a black and white photo. He gazed down at Ronald solemnly, unmoving. He appeared to be lit up by some light source that didn't exist on that plane.
Ronald's mouth dropped open and he rubbed his eyes, sure that he was seeing things. When his vision didn't clear, he tried pinching himself to see if he was asleep, and he felt the pain from it.
"W-Will?" Ronald slowly stood up, the blanket falling to his bare feet as he stepped closer, a hand reaching out towards the image of his lover.
The phantom hesitated a moment, and then he turned around and began to walk toward the door leading out of Ronald's office. He turned back and looked at him expectantly, tilting his head toward the door in a gesture indicating that he wanted him to follow.
Ronald grabbed his boxers and hopped in place as he pulled them on, so that he wouldn't be streaking down the Halls of London Dispatch. He then stumbled towards the door and William with a look of awe and hope on his face.
Chasing phantoms. He couldn't even know if Will was real or a hallucination...or if he was still on the Davenport, dreaming that this was happening. Worse than that, he didn't even know which one to hope for. If it was real, that meant that William's soul was trapped with unfinished business, unable to fully pass on to his destined afterlife...or maybe, he was refusing to.
William nodded at him, and a hint of a smirk curved the corner of his lips as though he'd guessed or sensed Ronald's thoughts. He continued through the door without opening it, walking right through it to leave Ronald to follow at his own pace.
Ronald pulled the door open and looked out down both ways. Spotting the ghostly image of his lover, he followed. "Will...where are you going?" he whispered, "I miss you..."
William paused and looked back at him, his handsome, ghostly features expressing some regret. He looked as though he wanted to say something for a moment, but he turned and kept going. Evidently, he had something more important than sentiment on his mind at the moment. He led Ronald to the lift and once he stepped inside of it, he vanished. The floor number for the Research department was already lit up when Ronald stepped inside.
~If this is a dream, man, I think it's a drunk one...why would Will lead me there of all places?~ Ronald thought to himself as he pressed the button to close the doors and allow the lift to take him to his destination.
With a ding, the doors opened and Ronald stepped out into the dark hallway. No one seemed to be there, which struck Ronald as odd. They were supposed to have people taking shifts in all the major areas of the building throughout the night.
...But then again, maybe the reaper on duty for this floor had left to go change places with his or her replacement.
Ronald turned down the Hall, catching another glimmer of William's form standing outside the doorway to the control room. The ghost disappeared through it and Ronald ran to the door, throwing it open.
"Will, what are you...oh-Shit!" Trailing off and gasping, Ron's eyes widened. He wasn't exactly a computer expert, but he was sure something wasn't right as the screens all scrolled numbers and letters so fast he couldn't read anything. He'd never seen anything like it, and knowing that the computers on this floor held very important things, he knew he had to do something.
Ronald turned from the screens and ran as fast as he could through the halls to the office Alex and his foreign boyfriend had claimed for personal use.
Practically colliding with the door, he banged on it, loudly and franticly, "Salty! Salty get out here now! I sure hope you aren't naked because I don't think you have time to make yourself decent right now! We have shit to deal with and we need you!"
Alex came awake with a start and a grunt, roused by Ronald's frantic knocking and yelling. He reluctantly pulled himself out of Fabian's embrace and he got up to answer the door. "Shh...cool it, would you?" he saw the almost frantic look in Ronald's eyes and he rubbed his own, wondering what could provoke the other young reaper to such concern. "What's going on, mate?"
"There is something wonky goin' on with the computers." Ronald said, pointing. "Like, really not natural. I think they could...blow up or something. Whatever it is, it can't be good and you are the only guy who I can think of to fix it!" He didn't wait for Alex to respond, he grabbed his hand and started pulling him back down the halls to show him.
Alex hastily tugged his boxers up, realizing that somehow Fabian must have pulled them partway down while they were sleeping. He snatched up his glasses from the desk on his way out and he blinked the sleep from his eyes. "What th' hell..."
He stumbled along behind Ronald and he tried not to trip himself as they hurried to the control room together. He adjusted his glasses once they got in there, and his eyes widened. "Oh my fuck...this is not good at all. Move aside, lemonhead. I've got to jump on this quick!"
He didn't even question what had brought Ronald into the control room at this late hour. He had to move fast if he was to counter the attempt to hack into their system. "Think you're big and bad, huh?" he muttered to the unknown interloper, cracking his knuckles. "We'll see about that. Good catch, Knox. I can take it from here."
Alexander didn't notice or sense the phantom of William T. Spears materializing just behind his companion. The deceased Dispatch supervisor watched his lover quietly, a faint little smirk of triumph appearing on his ghostly lips. He was proud of Ronald, and he wanted to show him as much.
" 'Lemonhead'...good one, Salty." Ron said, patting the other boy's shoulder. He could appreciate a good jab when he heard one, and he knew he hadn't exactly treated Alex fairly since the beginning of the Dispatch takeover. He'd let jealousy over nothing control his outlook on the hacker. He gave a small yawn and watched Alex's fingers fly over the keyboard.
"Need me to stick around for anything?" he asked, catching the glimmer of William behind him. He straightened up and turned to look at William, memorizing his colorless features. He even forgot he had asked Alex a question as he reached up to try and touch William's cheek.
Ghosts had no bodies. He knew that. But every ghost story he had heard involved humans. He was a Death God, after all, maybe he could feel more than the rumored chill...
But his hand passed right into Will's cheek, filling his heart with disappointment. It was like passing his hand through a cold mist, and his cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he pulled his hand back, hoping that having a hand pass through his cheek wasn't uncomfortable for the ghost. "Sorry..." he muttered.
William's shade smiled at him—actually smiled—and then he mouthed his thoughts and he touched Ronald's cheek with his partially transparent fingertips. "I love you."
The action made Ron shiver, but still he moved as if to lean into the cold touch, his own hand moving up in attempt to hold his hand in place. Sucking in a breath he fought the urge to throw his arms around the man he knew he'd simply fall right through. He didn't even care if Alex turned around and saw him. He didn't care if Alex couldn't see William when he could, he only wanted to linger there in William's faint touch as long as he could.
"Will..."
William backed up, walking through the door and leading Ronald out into the hallway with him. He bent over to speak into Ronald's ear, his voice little more than a breeze on the wind. "Well done," he mouthed. He reached out to touch Ronald's cheek with a cool hand, and he smiled nostalgically at him. "Good work, Ronald Knox."
"Charon's Oar; I miss you..." Ronald blinked back tears as he swallowed, "Don't go... If this isn't a dream, don't go... I..." Trailing off, he attempted to kiss the ghost, his lips only feeling a cold chill.
He probably looked like a madman, but he didn't give a toss.
William stared at him for several moments, his handsome, ghostly features expressing regret and longing. He leaned over and he spoke into Ronald's ear, his voice little more than a chill breath of winter against Ronald's cheek.
"I adore you. Be safe, and stay strong."
He touched Ronald's cheek, his pale fingertips brushing over the young reaper's skin lightly. He spared a moment to gaze into his eyes and he turned away. He walked off slowly, fading like a memory as he parted ways with him.
"Th-that's the exact opposite of staying, William!" Ronald reached out for him, but it was too late as William was invisible once more.
He let out a painful sigh and leaned back against the wall, sliding down it until he was seated upon the floor.
Alexander was too preoccupied with countering the hacking attempt to notice Ronald's odd behavior. He called out to him without taking his eyes off the data screens. "Hey, could you get me a soda? I've got cotton mouth and I don't dare get up to go get one myself."
At that moment though, the Undertaker came walking down the hallway and he slowed and stopped at the sight of Ronald sitting there on the floor. He tilted his head and he reached into his shirt pocket for his glasses, propping them on face to better make out the young man's expression.
"Ronnie? What are you doing down here at this hour?" asked the mortician. "You aren't sleepwalking, are you?"
"Possibly going mad." Ron muttered, rubbing his face and looking up, "but also assisting is saving the day." He jabbed his finger at the door to the control room. "Something was happening in there but I got Salty and he's dealing with it."
He pushed himself up. "I should get him his drink and then get back to bed."
The Undertaker frowned with concern. "I know a li'l something about madness, my lad. Why don't I come along with you and you can tell me what the trouble is, eh? Could be you're just suffering exhaustion and you need more rest."
He put an arm around Ronald's shoulders and walked with him, clearly unwilling to take 'no' for an answer. "Let's start with the control room, yeah? What happened?"
"It's all the same thing, sir." Ron sighed, "It's...William. I saw him tonight...he led me to the control room and the computers were acting up. I got Salty in there but then Will left again..."
Undertaker regarded him quietly for a moment, and then he nodded. "I can believe he came to you. Warned you something was amiss, did he?"
Of all reapers, the Undertaker knew what it was like to get messages from beyond the grave and even if there was a chance it was Ronald's imagination, it had led him to a discovery that was quite important. "Tell me something, chap. When you saw William, did he appear solid or transparent? Was he dressed like he was when we buried him?"
Ron nodded, "He even wore my glasses...but I couldn't touch him when I tried. It was like he was made of mist and his voice was barely a whisper. I'm not exactly sure if I actually heard it or if I imagined to was speaking to me."
He stopped at a vending machine and started hitting buttons, finding that they were all sold out save for grape flavored. "Hope he likes purple..." Ron said, taking the can that was deposited.
"It takes quite an effort for spirits to manifest on this plane," mused the Undertaker. "I imagine William put everything he had into doing it and communicating with you. Most of the time it takes a medium for them to speak with the living, and that's draining enough as it is."
Undertaker patted Ronald on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're going crazy. If you were, there'd be no question of your own sanity in your mind." He chuckled. "People have been calling me mad for years, and I still don't quite believe them. Ah well...if nobody else believes you, I do."
"I...do know ghosts are real, but actually seeing one...seeing Will like that...it doesn't feel real but he also does... I don't know what is real or in my head. I dream of him often, but this dream lead me down here."
Arriving back at the control room, he paused to duck inside, setting the can down. "They only had one flavor left," he told the busy hacker before rejoining Undertaker in the hall.
"Thanks," called Alex over his shoulder. He didn't even look to see what flavor it was. He opened it up and took a swig before setting it aside and getting back to business.
While he was absorbed in stopping the hacking attempt and possibly even countering it, the Undertaker spoke softly to Ronald. "Whether you were awake or walking in your sleep, I think your William did guide you down here." He bowed his head in thought as he walked the halls with the younger reaper, accompanying him back to the office floor they were staying on. He'd been restless himself of late, and not just because of the loss of Will and a few of their other comrades.
"I've dreamed of my daughter a lot, too. In fact, just last night I thought I heard her crying. At first, I thought mayhap I was hearing Alan and Eric's li'l one, but it sounded like it was right there in the room with us. Funny, that. I never even got to hear her voice, but I knew..."
The mortician shook his head and sighed. "Well, if you're imagining things, so am I. Difference is folk already think I'm mad." He smirked at Ronald, though the expression lacked his usual humor. They took the lift to their floor and the Undertaker saw Ronald to his office.
"If you have trouble getting back t' sleep, just remember the medicine you've got. Even if you don't like taking it, it should quiet your thoughts enough to help you rest."
"I may have to...It'll be a lonely night again, I can feel it." Ronald paused, and he looked back at Undertaker. "I hope your daughter can find peace...and I'm sorry for all the times I called you old and crazy. I think I understand a little better, now."
The ancient shrugged and forced a smile. "We've all changed in some way since all this started. G'night, lad." He opened the door to the office he was sharing with Grell and he entered the room quietly—until he tripped over the office chair on his way to join Grell on the folding couch.
"Ah! Buggar!"
The Undertaker practically pitched face-forward right into his sleeping lover's crotch.
"Fiend!" Grell gasped, startling awake and bolting upright in bed, bringing one fist down onto Undertaker's silver head and his other summoning his scythe. He blinked then. "Unnie? What are you doing to me when I'm getting my beauty sleep?" he gasped, recognizing his lover. "I could have reaped you!"
The mortician lifted his head from Grell's crotch and he yanked his glasses off. "It's these blasted spectacles," he complained. "I'm not used to seeing things this way and sometimes it makes me a wee bit dizzy. Sorry, lovely."
He pushed himself up into a sitting position and he put his glasses in the case sitting on the coffee table nearby. With a sigh, he bent over to take his boots off and get undressed. "And sorry for leaving you waiting. I wanted to join you in bed earlier, but I got into a conversation with one of our colleagues about plans to move on to the next location. Then on my way back up from that floor I ran into Mister Knox. Seems the poor chap thought he saw Spears' ghost and he followed it down t' the control room. Something was going on and he fetched Jeffries to deal with it."
"He saw-?" Grell shook his head, "Just come to bed. You can tell me in the morning what you have been up to." he drew him into a kiss after banishing his scythe.
The Undertaker removed his long overcoat and he tossed it over the office chair before unbuttoning his shirt and removing it. He slipped out of his pants next and once he'd finished disrobing, he joined his lover in the bed and he drew him close, spooning up against him. "Grell...I have to ask; did you happen t' hear a baby crying last night around the Witching Hour?"
"A baby? Matthew probably." Grell asked sleepily, "I didn't hear him last night. Maybe he had a tummy ache. I'm sure his mummy took care of it."
He snuggled in closer to Undertaker, pulling the blanket up over their shoulders. "You needn't worry about him, my love."
Undertaker sighed. He was beginning to finally feel his age, but he wouldn't complain about that to Grell. Instead, he cuddled up close to him and he breathed in his scent, trying to put aside his issues and wind down.
The next day, the council held a meeting. This time every member of the core colony remaining in London were invited to attend, as it involved them and their choice to participate or not. Lawrence began the meeting, explaining the situation to them.
"Late last evening, Alexander Jeffries blocked a malicious attack on our database from the Revivalists," he said to the assembly, walking slowly around the boardroom table. There weren't enough seats for everyone, so nearly half of them were standing. "He turned their own code back on them and he tracked it to its origin. Alex, if you please?"
He gestured politely at the young man who was sitting beside Fabian at the table with his laptop open. Alex looked up with his mouth hanging open, his hair pulled back into a ponytail and a cap crowning it.
"Yeah?"
Lawrence cleared his throat. "Please explain to the assembly your findings."
"Oh." Alex looked faintly embarrassed. "Right...that."
He got up and he licked his lips nervously as all eyes turned to him. "Well uh...like Father Anderson said, I traced the code and I found out where it was coming from. It's from uh...hold on, a second..."
He retrieved his notepad from his jeans pocket and he flipped through them to read his scrawl. "Manchester, yeah. It came from the Manchester division and I hijacked control of their system for a time. Got a look at their numbers and...hold on, let me finish setting this up. Sorry. Won't take long."
Alex hurried back over to his laptop and he pointed the connected projector at the screen against the east wall. "Guys, would ya mind stepping away from the screen so everyone can see? Um, sorry, you four in front of me need to maybe scoot over or get out of the chairs for a minute so you don't block the projection."
Eric got up, along with three other reapers. Alan was out of the line of projection, so he didn't need to move. Alex tapped something in to the keyboard and he turned on the projector. "Here it is," he said with some relief. The screen lit up as he played the feed he'd gotten from the culprit division's security cameras earlier, before they realized that they no longer had control of those feeds and disabled all cameras.
"Look, it's their security relays," explained Alexander. "As you can see, there really aren't many of 'em left over there—inside or out."
"I don't see how this proves that." Grell muttered, "This just shows the people who are in that location. They could have people hiding away and ready to portal in if something happens."
Alan was quick to agree. "Grell's right. After all, we have some of our own who have left our immediate group but are on call should anything happen. We can't have an accurate account based on these feeds. We should take these numbers and assume they have double, at least, should we make our move on that location."
"True," agreed the Undertaker, "but we still have an opportunity to take them by surprise. Like the fellow in the cap here said: he's crippled them."
Lawrence nodded, his eyes on the feed being projected. "Yes, he has. Even if they do have reinforcements they could call upon, they aren't able to reach them without physically sending a missive. If we strike quickly, we could take that branch before they have the chance."
Fabian sighed, and he propped his booted feet on the chair that Alex had been sitting in. "So we are taking back another English branch, then."
Anderson looked at him, and his expression softened. "I understand how you feel, Mr. Fabian. Rest assured, Copenhagen is most certainly at the top of our list of large branches to liberate. We must first do what we can with the resources we have, however. Try to be patient."
Fabian looked at Alex, who in turn looked back at him with a sympathetic expression on his young face. The Dane gave a nod and he said no more. He had at least one good reason to remain with this team...one good reason to practice patience.
Alex looked away, his face flushing in response to the steady stare behind the silver-framed glasses. He cleared his throat and he pointed at the screen. "So anyways, we probably should all have a good look at this feed to get an idea of the layout of the place. I mean, those of us that are going if the council gives the thumbs-up on a raid."
"Do we have anyone here from that branch?" Ronald spoke up from the back corner of the room, "Insider knowledge would be helpful in making the raid as quick and safe as possible. I'm pretty sure I speak for everyone when I say that we have already seen far too much death during this civil war over control of Dispatch. It'd be great if we can do this with minimal additional deaths as possible."
He frowned, noticing how people looked at him. "What? I don't need your pity. It's the truth. None of us wants to die or lose any more of our loved ones. We were in hiding for how long to make sure we were ready for our first big move to take back London? Safety has always been important to our group."
"Yes, of course," agreed Lawrence with a respectful nod at Ronald. "In that matter, it just so happens that I've been to that branch on more than one occasion. The quality of their glasses were in question and I've visited their branch on several occasions to assist in the training of the manufacture of them. I am somewhat familiar with the layout."
"Then you should coach us on what you can remember, along with our studies of these feeds Alex was able to get us." Alan agreed. "If we are going to do this, we need to work fast, so we should start preparing now as we wait for the official word from the board. But I do think it's safe to say the board will agree this is opportune. We may not get another chance like this before this is all over."
"They probably know they are vulnerable. So they may be expecting us to move in on them." Grell thought out loud, "or they should, if they are smart. Maybe we should dig up a few hundred more Dollies."
"Already have them ready to go," assured the Undertaker. "I had their caskets moved to the basement level yesterday, and we've still got 'round sixty of 'em left over from when we took this branch. I might need t' start thinking of going into production again soon though. I only had fifty caskets available. Dollies aren't indestructible, after all."
"Worry about that after we've liberated the Manchester branch," advised Lawrence. "For now, I think we should focus on orientation so that our agents can do this as quickly and safely as possible."
After calling in reinforcements and getting briefed on the mission, the Dispatch agents prepared to teleport to the target. Once again, Undertaker sent his dolls in first. Fabian raised a platinum brow when Alex hurried up to his side.
"What do you think you're doing?" demanded the Danish reaper.
"Coming with," answered Jeffries casually. When his love interest frowned at him, he straightened up challengingly. "What...think I can't cut it? Hey, I was trained to be a field agent too, you know. Just 'cause I spend most of my time at the computer doesn't mean I can't fight. It's not my fault my department assigned me to computer tech because o' my skill set, and the last time I stayed behind, you took a bullet. Someone's got to watch out for your crazy Viking ass."
Fabian crossed his arms over his chest and his mouth twitched. "Is that right?"
Alex gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, that's right."
The taller man chuckled softly and relaxed his arms. He reached out to squeeze Alexander's shoulders. "Than it's my honor to have a hacker at my back."
Alex relaxed and smiled. He looked over at Ronald, who was waiting in line with the Undertaker's team. "You ready for this, Lemon?"
Ronald chewed the inside of his cheek a moment before answering, "I sure hope so." He glanced at the reaper he'd been paired with for this raid. She was cute, but she wasn't William. He hoped that fighting again wouldn't bother him. He'd almost sat this one out, but he hadn't felt right about it.
Alex's expression betrayed sympathy, and he bit his lower lip and stepped over to pat Ronald gingerly on the shoulder. "We'll stay close," he promised. "We're not losing you too, mate."
He turned to look at Fabian. "Are we?"
The Dane took his prompt and he shook his head. "No more losses." He regarded the two younger reapers and he smirked, inwardly appreciating the sight of them standing side by side. "Lemons and salt go good with margaritas."
Alex and Ronald both had a perplexed look on their faces, and Fabian added: "...so I hear." His face flushed and he wished he'd kept that sad attempt at an anecdote to himself.
"Uh, I think you've got it confused with limes," offered Alexander, "but that's better than the last joke you tried to tell."
He smirked at Ronald and rolled his eyes. "Danes, man."
Ronald shrugged, "You'd know better than me. I've spent most of my time with fellow Londoners." He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, "I promised Eric I'd get back here if I can't...handle myself fighting again."
Alex nodded. "That's a good plan. Just holler at us if things get a bit too real, right?"
He gave Ronald another pat on the shoulder and then he rejoined Fabian in line. "Just what the hell was that crack about margaritas? Are you implying you want like...a threesome?"
"Give me some credit," muttered Olson. "I'm not so crass. I was only trying to banter and lighten the mood. That wasn't what I meant it to sound like."
Alexander chuckled a little nervously and slipped his hand into the taller man's. "Just making sure. I'm not sure how to read you yet."
"I've got no intention of sharing you," assured Fabian softly, squeezing his hand, "with anyone."
Alex shivered at the possessive caress of his tone. They still hadn't consummated their relationship yet. Fabian was being very patient with him, but with each kiss and caress Alex came closer to dropping his virgin inhibitions and demanding that the Dane just give it to him already.
"Let's just make it through this," he whispered, "and then maybe I'll let you stake your claim." He blushed even as he said it, but he didn't regret his words when Fabian looked at him with intrigue.
"Nothing will get past me to you," promised the Dane softly.
Alex smirked.
The Undertaker's group went through the portal first, quickly followed by Anderson's team. The dolls were already in action and there was a blight of confused chaos on the floor as reapers battled the undead host descending on them. Undertaker and Grell led the charge, with the former laughing like a fiend and the latter grinning like a shark. Eric came up behind them, using his body as a weapon just as often as his scythe. He elbowed one enemy agent in the face and he kicked another one halfway across the room. While his coupled companions ahead of him seemed intent on wreaking as much havoc as they possibly could, Eric himself was thinking only of getting this job done so that he could make their world a safer place for his family.
Anderson fired at two separate Revivalist agents, bringing them both down without mortal injuries. As they fell clutching their kneecaps, he shouted orders to his group. "Spread out and do not let a single enemy escape or teleport! Cover the Undertaker's team so that they can make it up to the next floor. Hold this area, everyone!"
Alex's hands were shaking as he blocked an attack with his weed-whacker scythe. It had been such a long time since he'd faced down an opponent physically. He yelled as the bigger reaper started to overpower him. Somehow he'd gotten separated from Olson, and he could see his lover some ten feet away. There were both dolls and reapers between the two of them.
"Shit!"
"Pick on someone your own size, you gigantic dick!" Ronald shouted from above, and the blond came down scythe first onto the large reaper. Last moment as the reaper looked up at him, Ronald twisted his body in the air and his heel connected with his opponent's cheek, knocking him down so that the blades of his lawnmower scythe cut into his arms and legs first. He still couldn't bring himself to kill fellow reapers—enemy or not. He pulled back on his attack before he cut too deep. He then took his gun scythe and shot regular bullets into the chest of another reaper coming up behind Alex.
"Come on, Salty, show these losers that you are more than a nerd. You know how to fight. I remember seeing you kick butt when we were students."
He'd just gotten through the portal himself, and he joined the fight when he saw Alex in trouble. So far, he felt like he was handling himself well.
Alex put his back against Ronald's and he tried to steady himself. Yes, he'd been trained and he'd done well on all of his exams...but Dispatch hadn't assigned him any fieldwork after realizing his potential with computer networking. He put his trust into Ronald and he stuck close to him, drawing his gun scythe and following his companion's example. He missed a shot and he panicked when one of their opponents closed in on him. He hastily grabbed up one of the packets of salt he kept in his jacket and he tore it open, throwing the grains into the eyes of the charging reaper. When the man stumbled and fell, he took advantage and he reaped him. Exhilarated by his success, he turned his head to speak to Ronald.
"Hah! Bet you don't think my pocket salt is so nasty now, huh?"
"Hmm?" Ronald shot two more opponents before glancing over his shoulder and spotting the man clutching his eyes under his glasses.
"Still nasty," Ron smirked, "but handy at the moment."
The blond kicked out at a female reaper, causing her to lose balance and he grabbed her hand holding a gun scythe as he felt a bullet whiz past his ear, close enough he could feel the heat from the bullet. He wrenched the gun from her, his normal scythe dismissing itself as he took one gun in each hand.
"Don't panic, Salty, you'll waste more ammo that way." he said as he saw how Alex was missing his targets.
"Yeah, I see that," muttered Alex.
He was beginning to regret his decision to join in the raid. He'd wanted to take a more active role and be at Fabians side—Ronald's as well, since he still felt partly responsible for William's demise. So far he was proving to be more of a liability than an asset. He heard a wild yell and he turned to see Fabian take a leap that could only be described as heroic. The Dane's blond ponytail flew like a banner in the air behind him as he jumped over the embattled masses to land just beside Alex, and he swept his formidable battle axe in a wide arch to cleave the enemy reaper that Alexander had failed to notice coming up behind him. The opponent was practically cut in two, his cinematic records spilling out and flailing wildly as he fell.
"Th-thanks," Alex managed, awed by the gorgeous Dane's combat prowess.
"Pay attention, Alexander," advised Fabian with a grunt as he kicked out at another enemy. "I'll not lose you."
Alex gulped, his heart stirring at the quiet passion in Fabian's declaration. Oh yeah...this man was definitely getting some after this fight. "I'll try to be more careful. Ronnie, you okay?" He turned to look back at his blond companion, remembering he was still fighting at his back.
"I—think so." Ron said, voice faltering when he saw a bullet slam through an enemy's head. He didn't know who shot the reaper, but his eyes widened and his breath caught as suddenly he was watching William falling to the ground with his records spilling out again.
"No—not good. He forced himself to turn away. The sight was too much for him. He knew it wasn't William...but how many deaths like that could he handle before he forgot that? "Damn it, don't aim for the heads!"
Lawrence noticed his trouble and he pushed through the fray to come to Ronald's side. "Ronald, if it's too much for you there's no shame in opting to go back. I can cover you whilst you make a portal."
Alex heard the elder's advice and he himself was feeling rather shaky. "I'll go back with you if you want," he sighed, admitting that combat was not his strong point. He looked at Fabian. "Would you think less of me?"
"Of course not," assured the tall blond reaper. "I did not want you here in the first place, Alexander. The attempt alone is heroic, on your part."
Alex bit his lip and he looked around as the Undertaker created a portal to lead his team through. So much violence...so much death. He could see the trauma in Knox's eyes and he imagined Ronald couldn't handle much more of this. They were trying to be merciful and aim to wound rather than kill, but in the wild fray there were no guarantees. He saw that three of the enemy reapers had dropped their weapons and put their hands up. Eric Slingby was already cuffing them.
"Ronald, maybe we should duck out of this," he urged.
Ronald hesitated. He was one of their best shots, but what good was he when he was starting to see his lover killed over and over again? It was a little too close to his heart.
"Alright, it'd be for the best." he agreed, pocketing his guns and summoned his scythe to start opening a portal for two.
Grell ripped through an opponent with his chainsaw, severing their arm from their body; "This would be easier just to kill them!" he grunted in frustration. But their board had decided to try to minimize deaths of our opponents, and he had to be careful of what he cut into.
He caught the arm by the hand and grinned, "Nice to meet you. I've just given you a first class ticket to the hospital. Maybe you should use it now." he tossed the arm at its owner.
The Undertaker laughed uproariously at Grell's pun, even as he cut the leg out from under one of their other opponents. "The important thing is to have fun while we work, love."
He himself was barely holding back. He wanted this all to be over with, so that he could go back to being his old mad mortician self. His work uniform just didn't feel right on him anymore. He missed his robes and his hat and he missed his shop. The only thing keeping him from cracking up right now beneath all of this celebrity pressure was his lover.
Undertaker barely managed to avoid lobbing the head right off of another opponent, and right as he started to lead his team into the small building's Dispatch center, he heard a bang and he felt the hot slug of an enemy bullet slam into his ribs. He fell against the wall and he coughed up blood, somewhat disoriented by the unexpected hit. He looked up in time to see the agent that had shot him getting ready to fire again, and he spun his death scythe just in time to deflect the bullet off the blade.
Eric Slingby dove in to take out the enemy agent before he could fire a third time, and the Undertaker drew a ragged breath. "Grell...lead 'em on," he gasped to his lover. He didn't need to breathe, but he couldn't issue orders with his lungs filling with blood, and he wasn't ready to retreat.
Grell spun on his heels when he heard the shot; just in time to see his lover collapse against the wall. Everything seemed to slow down around him. Even as Eric brought his scythe down into Undertaker's attacker before he even had a chance to do so.
He stood in shock as the realization sank in that Undertaker was actually down. His Undertaker. His lovely mortician and the legendary death god that everyone looked up to. He was down and the redhead was all of a sudden aware of the smell of blood.
Nothing else mattered to him in that moment. He rushed to his lover's side, dismissing his order to take the lead in Undertaker's place. He needed to know that his lover would survive - that his wounds were not nearly as severe as they seemed.
He knelt down, touched the spot where the bullet entered his torso. "You're bleeding!" he gasped, "Unnie-"
"Went clean through," explained the Undertaker with a shake of his head. He turned painfully to show Grell the exit wound. "Least it's...not inside me."
He coughed and blood flecked his lips as he struggled back to his feet. "It's fine, love. I can...hold out 'till we...finish this. Just a bit...hard t' talk right now."
Eric hurried to their side and he helped Grell support the staggering ancient. "I dun' think ya should stay, 'Taker. Ye'll bleed out if someone doesnae patch this."
"Med kit," coughed the Undertaker with a nod at the pack strapped to Eric's waist. They all had one and they'd all been trained in basic first aid for just such emergencies. "Take me...out of the line of fire...and patch me up. I'll be fine."
Eric compressed his lips and he looked at Grell. "What do ya think, Grell? Listen tae th' stubborn auld man or should I manhandle him through a portal?" Of course, trying to drag the mortician through by force might open his wound up further, but they couldn't afford to lose him. If the Undertaker went down, morale would plummet, and their chances of winning the day would suffer. The free reaper world was looking to them for guidance and courage, and if they found out Legendary Death was vanquished, the revolution would likely die with him.
Grell bit down on his lip in thought. Bandages wouldn't save him from the pain that obviously brought him down, and it was unknown if the bullet was a scythe bullet or not. If it wasn't, Undertaker could be healed up quickly and could fight on unhindered. But if it was scythe damage...he'd need soul thread to stitch it up and then he'd have to take care for it not to rip back open again for the next week or so.
He shook his head, "Unnie put me in charge, that means he has to follow my orders right now! Take him back to get looked at. If it was a normal bullet he can come back. if it was a scythe then he has to stay in their care! This is an order, Unnie!"
The silver reaper's bloodied lips twisted into a grin, displaying equally stained teeth. "Such vehemence, li'l rose."
"He's right," Eric said as he pulled the Undertaker's jacket and shirt open to bandage the injury as best he could. "We cannae risk losing ya, an' we've go' Father Anderson tae help lead us through tha rest o' this."
Eric shook his head at how quickly the bandages were soaking through, and he glanced at Grell. "If ye'll make tha portal, I'll escort him through an' come back after I've gotten him tae th' infirmary."
"Cover us while I open it." Grell nodded, turning and using his chainsaw to cut open a portal, taking care to ensure it'd be stable. As he did so he heard Eric deflect a few bullets before he'd finished.
"Alright, get him through and then join us again, Eric. I'll lead our group on to the next area like Unnie wants me to. Be careful when you come back."
"Aye." Eric grunted a little as he draped the injured mortician's arm around his neck and helped him to his feet. "Come on, auld man. Let's get ya some medical help."
"Grell," coughed the Undertaker, looking to his lover as Eric guided him to the portal. "Watch yourself, love."
"You can count on me, Darling." Grell turned as Eric and Undertaker disappeared, "Alright, Unnie passed the torch onto me! Lets all move on!" he called out the order and took the lead, rushing scythe-first through the doors to be met with more of the revivalists forces.
Eric and the Undertaker stumbled through the portal together and they arrived in the lobby of London Headquarters. "We need a medic," he hollered, stopping several staff in their tracks. He spotted Alan by the stairs leading up from the lobby to the first floor and he half-dragged his companion over with him. "Alan, would ya contact infirmary an' let 'em know we've go' ano'er injured one tae take care of?"
The Undertaker's blood was soaking into Eric's shirt, making it difficult to tell who was the injured one between them.
Alan eyed the two with wide eyes, and it was on the tip of his tongue to ask which one of them was hurt, but Eric seemed too calm and Undertaker had a hint of pain on his features. He let out a small sigh of relief and nodded before calling over two officers.
"Take Mister Undertaker to the infirmary." he instructed them and they took the elder from Eric, supporting him between them both. Alan was then free to approach his husband, "You aren't hurt, too, are you?"
Eric shook his head. "Nah, it's all his blood." He bent over to kiss Alan on the lips. "Now tha' I've gotten him here, I'd better get back. So far we're winning, but wi' tha loss o' Undertaker we might start losin' ground. Dun' want tae leave tha teams anymore short-handed than I must. Is Matt a'right?"
"He was moody when I put him down for a nap, but otherwise he's perfectly fine. He's probably just worried about his daddy getting hurt.I know I am." Alan said, kissing Eric's cheek, "Please be careful."
"Absolutely," promised the Scotsman. "I've a family tae come back to now."
He backed away reluctantly and he began forming the portal back to the site of combat. "Love yeh, Alan. Take good care o' our son an' keep tha faith."
"And no more scythe injuries! The last one you got was a pain for us to get healed when you kept popping stitches!" Alan called out before his husband disappeared. He sighed and placed a hand over his heart, closing his eyes, "Come back to me."
To be continued
