As soon as he got word that Alex and Grell had regained consciousness, Eric took the portal to the Auschwitz Dispatch and went to the hospital to check in on them and debrief them. He left Alan in charge of everything until he got back, trusting his partner to handle the added workload long enough for him to get their associates' reports. He went to Alexander's infirmary room first, seeing as the nurses informed him that Sutcliff was currently being examined by a doctor.

"How're ya feelin,' lad?" he greeted as he stepped into the junior agent's room. Alex was sitting up in his bed, watching the television mounted from the ceiling. His head was wrapped and there were drying bloodstains on the gauze.

"Hey Mr. Slingby." Alex's smile was a bit wan, but genuine. He clicked off the television. "Kind of dizzy, but they say I should be fit for release in a few days. Mr. Sutcliff took a worse hit than I did."

"Tha's wha' they told me." Eric sat down in the visitor's chair beside the bed. "So what can ya tell me 'bout yer attacker? Was it a demon? Rival group of reapers?"

"No on the demon, and sort of on the reapers. There was just one guy. We were checking out reports about this doctor that's been doing experiments on the dead. Thought maybe he was behind all the empty records. He turned out to be a reaper, when we found him and confronted him. He handed our butts to us on a silver platter."

Eric regarded him suspiciously. "Wha'd he look like?"

Alex concentrated, wincing at the memory of being assaulted. "Tall, really pale. White-ish gray hair. It was super long; he had it pulled back into a ponytail. I think he's albino or something, 'cause his eyelashes are just as white as his hair."

Eric's heart thudded at the implications. "Did ya notice any scars on his face?"

"Oh, yeah." Alex nodded. "A really big one that went from his left temple all the way down to the right side of his jaw."

Eric swore and got up, startling the younger reaper.

"W-what's going on?"

"I'll tell yeh later," answered the Scotsman over his shoulder as he headed out the door. "Righ' now, I've got tae speak wi' yer partner and confirm somethin'."

Eric went straight to Grell's room, and he ignored the doctor when the man chastised him for barging in while in the middle of an examination. "Clear out," ordered the blond. "I need a few moments alone wi' mah colleague, here."

"But sir," objected the doctor in a heavy German accent, "He still needs—"

"I've got no time tae argue wi' ya, man." Eric advanced on the doctor and glared at him. "Will ya give us a moment alone, or do I need tae toss ye out m'self?"

Intimidated, the doctor shot one more look at his patient and ducked out of the room.

Grell blinked up weakly at the Scotsman, his body covered in bandages much like his partner's, only more-so. His long hair had been pulled into a high ponytail in order to keep it out of the doctor's way when they changed his wrappings and checked on his condition.

"Well, I didn't know you'd be so passionate about me, darling~" He teased with a weak voice, lacking his effeminate flair for once.

Eric didn't react to the comment. Instead, he strode to Grell's bedside and looked him over. Jeffries hadn't exaggerated; he'd taken a beating, all right. "Alex told me tha one responsible fer th' two o' ya being in this condition was a reaper," he informed him, "an' from what I can tell from his description, it sounded a lo' like tha Undertaker. Is tha' who it was, Grell?"

Grell gave a small, pained nod with a smile. "Bastard damaged my face again. He's really going to pay one of these days. I'll give him a whole new scar to add to his collection!"

Eric groaned. "So tha's it, then. We've go' Undertaker tae deal wi', on top of everything else. Wha' can ya tell me 'bout wha' he's up tae, Grell? Did ya find out anything before he put yer lights out? Is he tha one responsible fer tha blank records?"

"No idea." Grell admitted, "Not much talking was done before we had our asses handed to us." He sighed and reached up with his hand that wasn't in a full cast, rubbing his head. "We had just gotten there and saw who he was...then...everything gets all fuzzy. I do remember holding my ground a bit."

The Scotsman retrieved his phone from his blazer and dialed his partner. "Spears an' Knox are 'bout tae walk right in tae tha'. Best make sure they get warned."

As soon as Alan picked up the phone, Eric spoke. "We've go' trouble, Al. I need yeh tae ring up German dispatch authorities an' let 'em know an old fugitive from London's been spotted in Auschwitz, while I try tae reach tha boss an' Knox tae warn 'em. Got confirmation tha' Grell and Jeffries' attacker was Undertaker."

"Well then, let's get started," sighed William as he and Ronald stepped through the portal just outside mortal Auschwitz-Birkenau. The stench of death was strong in the air, and the aura of it clung to so many mortals, it was hard to keep up with who was destined to die and who was simply being drenched the miasma of death surrounding the area.

"I believe the facility we need to investigate should be located here on the map." William activated the navigator and pointed it out in the schematic. "We shall have to pass the...crematoria."

The horrible implication of it made that sickness well inside of him all over again.

Ronald frowned and rubbed William's back. "Try not to think about it. I know this whole war has been bothering you more than the job usually does...I'm here to help if you need it," he promised.

The blond took William's hand and gave it a squeeze, waiting until William showed a sign that he was ready to cross the camp to their destination. The stoic reaper took a slow breath and he nodded, putting one foot in front of the other...slowly at first, and then with more confidence and purpose. They passed by prisoners—mostly Jewish—with shaved heads, emaciated bodies and glazed eyes, carting wheelbarrows or otherwise working labor throughout the compound. They passed SS officers wearing the same sharp looking uniforms that they were dressed in—an ensemble that might have looked attractive, if it weren't for the connotations behind them.

William walked faster, setting his goal on the building that was to be their destination. He stopped in his tracks when he rounded the corner and found a long line of prisoners standing naked in the street, though. His breath caught at the sheer number of Polish reapers he spotted standing around the building, laying in wait and undetected by mortal eyes. The SS officers herded the human traffic on, armed with guns and attack dogs. Frightened sobs could be heard from the lines of doomed prisoners. They might have been told they were only going in to be disinfected for transport, but most of them instinctively knew the truth of it.

~They're going to kill them all.~

"This way," William said thickly, grabbing Ronald by the arm to drag him down an alleyway and take a bypass. He could sense demonic activity rising in the area, too. There would be competition for those souls, this day.

Ronald swallowed, trying not to let the sight they had just seen get to him. He was grateful to be collecting on battlefields rather than in camps. He doubted he'd be able to handle it mentally day after day...

"Hurry, before demons show up." he stressed, taking William's hand and hurrying them faster around a longer rout to their destination.

They made it to the building reputed to be the site for all of the medical experimentation, and William stopped and held Ronald back. "Just a moment, Knox." His senses screamed at him in warning as he watched a military vehicle getting loaded up with what appeared to be plain, oblong wooden boxes. He could feel the death aura clinging to each box, and he guessed they must be simple coffins. There was a tall man in a lab coat standing there, directing the soldiers that were loading the back of the vehicle up.

"I wonder if that is our culprit," murmured Spears to his companion, nodding at the man. His hair was silver-white and bundled up into a bun. His back was to them, so it wasn't possible to see his face. He got a feeling of dread as he watched him wave his blood-stained, gloved hands. He hoped he was wrong. He pulled out his phone to check on it again, and he shook his head. Still no signal. He had no way of getting in touch with Dispatch to ask about Grell and Alex's condition, or what they remembered seeing before they were attacked.

"Ronald, does your phone have a signal, yet?"

"Nope," Ronald said, unsurprised as he glanced at his phone's screen. Their phones shared a signal, and it was odd that they would have none here. Dispatch-issued phones were supposed to work everywhere in the mortal realm, after all. So the fact that they had none suggested that there was something blocking the signal.

"Damn," muttered Will. He watched as the doctor went back into the building, while the soldiers finished up and closed the back of the vehicle. "Well, there is no help for it. We must proceed with caution, Ronald. We don't know what we may be up against."

Ronald nodded, "Anything that can take down Senpai is something to be wary of," he agreed.

They crept around the building together, and William found a window they could sneak into. He pointed at it and offered a boost to Ronald. When the blond took it and opened the window, William made sure his cloaks were as secure as possible, before climbing up behind his companion to follow him through. His face nearly collided with Ronald's bum and he flushed with embarrassment.

"Careful, Knox," he warned in a bare whisper. "Try not to make a sound when we get inside."

"Sorry—my belt's caught on the latch, I'm stuck!" Ron whispered, reaching back and trying to unhook his belt from the latch on the window, Can you help?"

William grumbled under his breath, reaching up to try and free the clothing article in question. "Back up a bit," he grunted. "No, not that far...!"

Ronald practically sat on his face, and the flush returned to William's cheeks as he backed down to avoid having his head sandwiched between the blond's bum cheeks. As it was, his lips brushed against the right one as he turned his head and for a moment, all he could think of was the time he heard Ronald telling another Dispatch agent to "kiss his ass".

"Oh, honestly," muttered William, fighting a sudden case of unexpected giggles. He cleared his throat and tried again to free Ronald's belt. "H-hold still, Knox. I've nearly got it."

"I'm trying to. It's hard to stay balanced up here like this. I don't want to fall when I come loose! That'd make a lot of noise," Ronald said, looking down at the stacks of crates under the window. "...and pain."

~Not so much, if my face breaks your fall.~

William kept his thoughts to himself, mortified with the inner confession that he might enjoy cushioning Ronald's bum with his face, should he fall. He did his best to concentrate on the task at hand, until he worked the belt free of the snag. "All right, try it now."

~And for the love of death, don't look at me. My face must surely rival a cherry in redness.~

Nodding, Ronald tried to move forward again and he managed to slip inside without more problems, letting himself drop to the floor. "Good. We're in." he turned back to help William, just in case he got stuck as well.

Relieved that the fiasco was over with, the older Reaper climbed through the window with his companion's help, and he dropped down lightly on the other side. He put a gloved finger to his lips for silence as he took up the lead, moving from what appeared to be a medical supply area into the hallway.

Ronald chewed on his lip as he followed; alert and scanning with all his senses for anyone who may be approaching or hidden behind closed doors. Really, he didn't know what they were specifically looking for other than to find out why Grell and Alex had been attacked.

William peered around the corner, holding one hand out behind him in a halting gesture as he listened quietly. He could hear the rattle of medical equipment upon metal trays, and he also heard a low, uneven voice speaking.

"Well now, that's a good number of your brothers and sisters shipped off, hmm? Not to worry, my dear. They think you're dead, but we know better..." the voice took on a sing-song tone. "Don't weee?"

William felt his heart clench at the sound of that voice.

~Oh, surely not.~

He inched further around the corner, halting his breath and doubling up on his camouflage. He could see the man that had been directing the soldiers—once again with his back facing him. Inside the room he was peeking into, the "doctor" had a subject on an operating table. It was difficult to say for certain from his vantage point, but William thought the subject lying on the table looked female. Her feet twitched and her toes curled as the silver-haired stranger worked over her.

"Like that, do you?" said the doctor in a dulcet tone, hand coming up with a needle and thread pinched between the fingers. He chuckled darkly. "Just wait 'till you sink your teeth into the flesh of your killers, darlin'."

William shook his head. No...oh gods, no. Not this. His gloved fingers clenched into a fist. He could sense the reaper aura...and that meant that the "doctor" could probably sense he and Ronald, too.

Ronald inched forward, peaking over William's shoulder so close he had to place a gloved hand on the man's back to help keep his balance. His eyes widened as he took in the same scene William had been staring at.

"...Shit... is that..?" He gasped before slapping a hand over his own mouth to silence himself.

William gave him a brief glare, just as the doctor paused in his work. He continued a moment later, but William could sense that he was smiling. He knew they were there. He honestly didn't know what to do.

"Ronald," he mouthed, looking back at his companion, "teleport outside...now. It may give us an advantage."

Ron's eyes grew round, "We aren't supposed to!" he mouthed back, "Bombs and traps and shit!"

After stepping on a mine, he didn't want to risk it. He knew there wouldn't be mines inside the camp but he didn't know what kind of dangers there would be.

William sighed, but he couldn't really blame him. He started to try and suggest a different tactic, but then the man they were observing suddenly spoke up—and he wasn't addressing the subject on his table, this time.

"Might as well come on out, gents. I know you're there. Before y' think of trying to skewer me while my back's turned, I feel it's only fair t' warn you that idea didn't turn out so well for Miss Sutcliff and that young bloke."

William cursed, and he glanced at Ronald. There really was no need to remind him to keep his scythe ready. Stepping out from their cover, William took the lead and he approached the Undertaker with cool dignity.

"Legendary Death," he greeted formally, "We have been sent here to investigate rumors of experiments being performed on the dead. I see those rumors were not unfounded."

The mortician cackled softly. "Very observant of you." He helped the body on his table sit up, and he turned to face the two agents with a smile. "Isn't she lovely?" He gestured at the woman—a victim of the gas chambers, no doubt. Her head was shaved bald like most of the other prisoners destined for execution, and her eyes were blank, staring and swirled with blue.

"...But she's a bizarre doll." Ronald frowned, "Those don't show up on our lists because they've already been collected-what else have you been doing? Not that you should be making your dolls again, either."

"What else do you fellas think I've been doing, eh?" The ancient took his doll's hand and helped her down from the table. Fortunately, she didn't seem interested in either of the two Dispatch agents—yet.

"There have been cases of anomalies within the cinematic records of reaping targets," answered William cautiously. "We have been finding them all over Europe. Would you have anything to do with that, sir?" Despite the things he'd done in the past and evidently were doing once more, William could not bring himself to address this reaper disrespectfully. He was once one of the greatest, after all.

"Hmm, you mean the blank records," surmised Undertaker.

William nodded.

"Well, I'm afraid that's not my doing." Undertaker shrugged, and he peeled his surgical gloves off. "There's a whole different tree you ought t' be barking up, for that one."

"Whadaya mean it isn't you?" Ronald frowned, "Who else could pull stunts like that? Do you know who is responsible?" he questioned, crossing his arms. He eyed the doll. "Why don't you sit your doll back down and just talk to us?"

Undertaker glanced at the reanimated corpse. "Because she needs t' stretch her legs a bit, that's why." He spoke to the doll. "You just nevermind him, dearie. Walk around a bit. There's a good girl."

With jerky motions, the doll began to walk the circumference of the room. William frowned at her in distaste as she came close to him, and he held his scythe at ready until she passed by. "Undertaker, please answer the question. Do you know who or what is responsible for the blank records?"

The mortician removed his glasses and pocketed them with a fluid shrug of his shoulders. "Maaybe I do, and maaybe I don't. You know the price of information, Mr. Spears."

"This is no joking matter," insisted William. "The corruption of these reels is a very serious problem, as I'm sure you must realize. It would be in your best interests to share any information you may have."

"Hmm." Undertaker loosened his hair from the bun, allowing it to spill over his shoulders and down his back in a cascade of glossy silver strands. "Would it, now?"

William's eyes followed the flow of hair briefly, before coming to rest on the ancient's rather remarkable face. He'd always harbored a secret fascination for this reaper, but it was a sort of distant adulation—like the sort mortals had for angels, or a beautiful piece of art. To him, Undertaker was like a stunning winter landscape...breathtaking to behold but not advisable to explore. The fact that he was hopping mad helped to keep that fascination in perspective, too.

"If these anomalies are meddling with the balance of life and death, then you stand to be effected by it as well," William pointed out. "I am curious as to why you've taken to creating your dolls again, as well. I thought you had come to realize it was folly."

"Oh, I did," answered the mortician with a nod. "But that was before this fracas began, y' see. Now they have a purpose, again."

Suddenly, Undertaker was no longer by his table, but looming over William. Startled, the brunet lifted his scythe defensively—but the ancient wasn't making any aggressive moves except to grin at him.

"I've learned how to manipulate those empty records," whispered Undertaker, "and put them to use. Isn't that funny? Someone's goin' around erasing them, and they just happen t' make the perfect, blank slates for my new dollies. Gives me the chance to decide what the dolls know and what they don't, rather than leaving their old memories to cloud up their directives. Isn't that lovely?"

"Frankly, no," answered William. "To what purpose do you make use of them, this way?"

The mortician backed off a bit, glancing sidelong at Ronald. "Put that shanker away, boy. I'd hate to have to toss you through a wall like your mentor."

"Put the doll away." he countered, "I didn't have fun playing with them back then, and I don't like being so near one, now. We aren't here to fight you. We just have business to attend to."

"I can't just 'put her away'," scoffed Undertaker, spreading his hands. "Doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. She's not the sort of doll you can just plop on the shelf, you know."

"Then put her to rest," suggested William. "My companion and I find her presence disturbing, to say the least. I would prefer we discuss things in a civil manner and reach some sort of accord."

"Mm, so you blokes aren't planning t' try and take me in? Not even after I injured your companions?" The mortician tapped his grinning teeth with a fingernail.

"For the time being, no," answered William calmly. "Considering you have managed to best not only Dispatch agents, but a demon as well in the past, it would be fool-hearty for the two of us to attempt an arrest on our own. I am not so proud as to be unaware of my own limitations, sir."

"My, my, aren't we humble." Undertaker glanced at his doll, and he shrugged. "You've piqued my interest. Anna, my dear, lie back down on the table and go back to sleep. I'll wake you when it's time, love."

The doll shuffled over to the table obediently. "Good...n-night," she said, and she offered her creator a twitchy, adoring smile before climbing on and lying down.

William swallowed, finding the whole thing frankly horrifying. He stared at the doll to be sure she was utterly still, before returning his attention to the Undertaker. He nodded at the doll. "You mentioned that you had found a way to use the empty records you have found to create improved dolls. Is she one of them?"

The ancient shook his head. "Not at all. Her records were intact at the time of her death." He glanced around and leaned closer to the two agents, lowering his voice to a whisper. "They don't like the 'undesirables', y' see."

William exchanged a confused look with Ronald. "'Undesirables'?"

"Is that what you call the blanks? Or—the Germans?" Ronald asked, remembering hearing the reaper mention to the doll that she'd be able to bite into those responsible for her death. "Why are you here? You don't seem to want to be working for the Nazi party...so why are you appearing to do so?"

"'Undesirables' is their word for Jews and th' like," explained the mortician. "The Nazi party, that is. Gypsies, Catholics, homosexuals and whoever else they decide to cull before this is all finished."

He sobered a bit. "Haven't you lot found it a bit peculiar that nearly all the blank records turning up have come from Nazi soldiers and their supporters?" He shrugged. "Every once in a while, you might find 'em in the body of one of the allies fighting against the axis, or one of the culling victims, but for the most part, they go after members of the Axis. As for what I'm doing here, well..."

He started to cackle. "The Nazi party thinks I'm working for 'em, just like the Aurora Society had that notion at one time; but they're wroo-ong. I've got another goal in mind."

William found this influx of information somewhat dizzying. "What has been wiping out the records of those victims, Undertaker, and what is this goal you speak of?"

"Hmm, I don't think you've earned that information, Mr. Spears. I can be a kind bloke and give you a bit of a hint, though. They were created by the Nazi's themselves—or rather, someone claiming t' be a supporter. Now the monsters they created have turned on 'em, and so they seek immortality 'cause they can't fight 'em on their mortal lonesome."

Ronald stared at the elder reaper, "What do we have to do to make you speak English?" he asked, having not understood what the 'clue' was supposed to hint at.

"Yes, do please elaborate," sighed William.

The mortician's grin stretched wide. "I'm afraid that's all I've got for you gents. You're not a pair of halfwits...you'll figure it out. Unfortunately, seein' as I can't have either of you reporting my whereabouts to Dispatch, I'm afraid I'll have to make a change of location."

He stepped back, and he summoned his scythe, grabbing hold of his newest doll's wrist with one hand. "Might want t' keep your distance, blokes. I've got a habit of making portals only fit for those invited through 'em. You could wind up in pieces, if you try t' go through."

William impulsively started forward as the mortician created a twisting, dark tear through the fabric of time and space. It wasn't the usual portal, and he found out just how true Undertaker's words were when he stuck a hand through it and felt the searing pain of the skin being flayed from the bone. With a cry he fell back against Ronald, and the Undertaker vanished through the portal with his doll as William collapsed.

Ronald grabbed William, hugging him tight as he watched the man and his doll disappear. "Well, that was way uncalled for. We were still talking! What kinda hell-portal was that, anyway? You okay, Will? You kind of cried out, did he kick you or something?"

William held up his shaking, injured hand. The material of his glove had partially fused with what remained of his skin on it. He could see the tendons and bones through the shredded parts of the glove.

"I think...this needs medical attention," he managed, lips going white with pain.

"Wha-oh-shit! Will!" Ronald gasped, seeing the man's hand, "What-hold on a second!"

He got up and hurried over to the cabinets, searching them and finding sanitary wraps and bandages. He then hurried back to will and gently took his hand to wrap it. "We can at least keep it clean until we get to the portal. No telling what may get in our way on our way back," he explained when William gave him a questioning look. He wasn't a medical reaper after all, and he knew little when it came to those things. He did know that keeping injuries clean was on the list of things to do if possible.

William hissed as his hand was wrapped, sucking in sharp breaths to manage the pain. "It was...foolish of me," he admitted. "I reacted...without thinking. Probably should have heeded his warning, but...ahhh, bloody hell!"

His thoughts scattered as the searing pain tore through him.

"Sorry, I'm trying to be gentle...but it's better than getting dirt in it before we get you to the infirmary to have someone look at it and see what they can do." Ronald frowned, actively trying to finish the job more gently. He sighed and offered him a smile. "Just goes to show that everyone can make mistakes. I step on mines, you touch unnatural looking portals."

For some reason, Ronald's observation struck him as funny. Perhaps it was shock settling in from the pain, but William laughed unevenly. "Can we not...go a single day...without injury?"

He clenched his jaw against the discomfort as Ronald finished up, taking a steadying breath. "Thank you, Knox. I feel terribly foolish."

To the mad ancient's credit, Undertaker did try to warn him against coming into contact with the portal. It wasn't that William disbelieved him; he just reacted out of impulse, without thinking. He honestly couldn't hold it against the mortician...but now they would have to track him down again to get more answers. He tried to think on all the man had said before teleporting away, but he was hurting too much right now to concentrate.

"Let us make our way to the portal," he said when Ronald finished bandaging his hand. "I can feel demonic activity rising, and I am not in any condition to fight off predators."

"Don't worry, I'll protect ya." Ronald smiled, indulging himself as he kissed the man's cheek before pulling him to his feet. "Let's go."

The blond took the lead, but he made sure to stay close to the brunet as they hurried down the halls and out of the building. They no longer had to be secretive because of the man who turned out to be the Undertaker, and they left through the doors rather than struggle with the window again.

"I think we should go around the perimeter. It'd take more time, but we'd be less likely to run into demon problems," he suggested, pointing off to the left.

"That seems like a sound plan to me," agreed William, enjoying leaning against Ronald perhaps a bit too much. "Lead on, Knox."

"Here's to hoping my plan doesn't back-fire on us," Ron said, starting them off on their way back to the portal. Luckily, his plan was a successful one and they made it to the portal without a single demon getting in the way. Once they were on the other side, Ronald turned them towards the hospital and hurried William through the doors where they got the attention of a passing nurse who saw William into a room to get his hand tended to.

Ronald wasn't permitted to go back with him, so he shrugged, "I'm going to hunt down Grell-senpai's room." he told Will as hey separated, "See how he's holding up."

"That would be fine," gasped William, struggling against pain as the nurse guided him into the room and began to unwrap Ronald's binding to inspect his hand. "Share what we've learned with him, please. Dispatch must be notified that the Undertaker is making his dolls again."

Fighting back pain, he clenched his teeth as the blond left to seek out Grell. Fortunately, he was not left waiting for very long. There seemed to be an abundance of hospital staff at this place, unlike Dispatch agents. The doctor came in speaking halting English.

"Ah, Mister...Spears? I see 'hand injury' in report." He adjusted his little round glasses. "How did the hand get injured?"

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" William gritted out in a strained voice.

The doctor smiled, seeming somewhat relieved. "Ja, ich spreche Deutsch."

William explained to him what happened in German—to the best of his ability. He still wasn't quite sure what vile properties the portal had to flay skin from muscle and bone, and frankly, he did not care. It was enough that his hand had been skinned, and right now, all he wanted was relief from the agony.

"How curious," said the doctor in German. "Well, let's get this cleaned and see what we can do to ease your pain and help it heal, yes?"

William nodded, swallowing and shutting his eyes. "Thank you."

Ronald returned after the doctor finished salving William's hand and administering both a numbing anesthetic and a pain killer, for when it wore off. The brunet was lying in the bed, feeling a bit detached due to the medication he'd been given. He raised his newly bandaged hand weakly in greeting.

"Did you notify Dispatch?" His voice sounded strangely lazy to his own ears, and he was having trouble focusing his gaze on the blond.

"The best I could," Ronald sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he approached and pulled a chair over next to the bed to sit in. "It was hard to do so without you there to translate. I filled out the report in both English and Italian as well, so hopefully it'll get translated for them soon. Ah! And I spoke with Grell. Told him what we found out and saw how he is doing. The old geezer knocked him around pretty good. But He'll be fine. It didn't take long before he was whining over the lack of a visit from his 'darling cold-hearted Willy'."

Ronald snickered. "He demanded I tell you to, and I quote, 'Get your hard-ass over to see him right away.' But I told him you had your hands wrapped up at the moment."

William sighed in annoyance. "How is it Sutcliff can perturb me even when under the influence of medication?"

He closed his eyes, finding them too heavy to keep open any longer. "Knox, as soon as I've healed, I intend to make tracking the Undertaker down our top priority. I believe the board will find that agreeable, considering he alleged to have information about who or what is responsible for the blank records."

"Yeah... but hopefully we'll have the good fortune of the old loon not start a fight or use more dangerous portals to run away." Ron took hold of Will's uninjured hand and brought it up to his lips. "We don't really stand a chance against him. I learned that back when he bested me, Grell, and that demon butler all at the same time."

"True, but he doesn't seem to be quite our enemy. Certainly not our ally, but he honestly could have put us both in the hospital without my foolish move causing me harm. Even if we cannot persuade him to assist us, I've a feeling that he'll lead us to the more pressing culprit if we follow him. Do you recall what he said about the Nazi party 'seeking immortality' and believing he is their ally? I think that they have been willingly allowing him to raise their dead, in the hopes of using them as a weapon against whatever monsters they created. Even if that isn't the case, an army of the dead would be a potent weapon in this war."

William sighed and forced his eyes open again, unable to see more of his companion than a blurred profile with blond-black hair. "Undertaker may intend to use those dolls against whomever or whatever was responsible for the creation of the 'monsters' he mentioned. Of course, he may also intend to attack Dispatch with them. It's difficult to say, with his logic. I'd like to believe the latter is not the case, since he chose to flee rather than fight us."

"But he attacked Grell," Ron pointed out, "Though Grell could have attacked first. He wouldn't talk about that when I asked why the kook attacked."

The blond reached forward and pushed a lock of hair out of Will's face, tucking it behind the man's ear. "Maybe he intends to set the dolls loose on that Hitler guy. Help put an end to the war. I wouldn't mind that."

"Given that he did not attack us when he most certainly could have, I presume Sutcliff or Jeffries made the first move," reasoned William, fighting a yawn. "While Jeffries' talents in certain areas are impressive, he's a bit jumpy…and we both know how impulsive your former mentor can be."

He started to drift off, and he caught himself. Ron's light touch felt nice, and it lulled him. "Try to get some rest, Knox. You may not have the opportunity to sleep in for some time, once I've recovered."

"...I'd rather not go back to the hotel room alone," Ronald muttered, kissing Will's fingers. "Mind if I stay here with you, tonight?"

William smiled, the medication relaxing his normally conservative nature. "Of course, though the chair isn't…likely to be comfortable. Perhaps you can fit…in the bed with me."

He yawned again, fighting to stay awake.

"That's the theory I planned to test when you said I could stay." Ronald smiled, kicking out of his shoes and removing his uniform jacket before slipping into the bed with the man, making sure to stay on the opposite side his injury was on so that he wouldn't roll onto his hand in the night by accident.

"Mm, seems to be a sound theory," sighed William as Ronald snuggled up to him and rested an arm over his chest. He absently caressed it with his uninjured hand, finding some wonder in the simple act of snuggling. "I've never…done this before."

"I'm sure that's not true," Ronald muttered. "I'm sure you've at least cuddled with your parents when you were a tiny little ball of energy and cute."

"Only…mother," answered William with a sleepy sigh. He nuzzled Ronald's soft, feathered hair. "And father soon disallowed it, fearing it would make me soft."

"Bah, idiot. I snuggled with my mummy until I was twelve, and I aint 'soft'. Sounds like the man could have used cuddles himself, if he was that much a hard-ass dickwad that he wouldn't let his baby boy curl up in his mummy's lap."

"Mm, Father was a 'dickwad'," confirmed William drowsily. I have no…goodness….what is the term? Argument. I've no…no argument…"

He yawned again, and his mind started conjuring random, odd things in its sleepy haze. "Tell th' turtle to get off that hamster's back," he mumbled.

"...I do not understand this new form of English you are speaking." Ronald blinked up at William with a smirk.

"Th' turtle," William muttered more vehemently. "It's crushing the hamster, over there. Hamsters aren't…made for being ridden. Knox, make the…turtle get off."

"...M-hmm... Tell me, on a scale of one to 'fucked up', how drugged are you for the pain?"

The brunet turned his head on the pillow, the fingers of his uninjured hand absently stroking Ron's arm. "…believe I'm well on…the way to 'fucked up', Mister Knox."

Ron nodded and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheekbone, just under his eye. "Then go ahead and sleep it off before you say something you'll regret when the pain killers are no longer messing with your head."

"You are…most kind," mumbled William with a stupefied grin. He drifted off to sleep shortly after.

-To be continued