With the help of the Bizarre Doll that the Undertaker left behind to direct them, William and Ronald caught back up with the retired reaper a couple of days later in Hanover, just west of Wolfsburg. Just as his servant had said, he was waiting for them in the graveyard.

"Another cemetery," sighed William as they trod the path up the hill to where they saw the Undertaker standing. "Of course...it had to be another cemetery."

"The man's a retired reaper who became an undertaker." Ronald pointed out, "I'd say he's obsessed with death and would find places like this comforting. I can't say I'm surprised... though I wouldn't mind a nice place where we could order something to drink."

"That would be preferable," muttered William in agreement. He quieted as they approached his old mentor, who was grinning as usual and leaning against a tombstone. William nodded in greeting at him. "Good evening, sir. Thank you for choosing a location that was easy to find...even though I am not fond of this setting."

Undertaker looked around with a slight frown. "What's not to like? It's a lovely, crisp evening and there aren't any nosey-bodies around to listen in."

William sighed, recalling the way the ancient had scoffed at his suggestion of procuring a room at an inn. "Very well. I've brought you something that will make communication between us easier." He reached into one of his jacket pockets to retrieve the mobile phone he'd picked up for him. "Please take this. I will show you how to operate it, and I've already put both mine and Knox's contact numbers into it so that you would not need to."

The mortician took the phone almost gingerly, his eyes flicking between the device and William. "What's wrong with the way I've been doing it?"

"This is simply more convenient for all, and it's faster," explained William, carefully avoiding mentioning that he thought the Undertaker's methods of communication were disgusting.

"I'm sure the way you have been doing it takes time." Ronald interrupted, "Mobile phones can send messages much faster. Especially if you are in a hurry to get out of the area. Think of it as... an instant carrier pigeon."

The Undertaker still didn't look very impressed, but he shrugged. "Far be it from me to split hairs over how we keep in touch under these circumstances. So show me how this gadget works, Willy."

William obliged him, counting on the mortician's inquisitive mind to make the operation of the device easier for him to understand. He and other modern reapers took technology for granted, they were so used to being around it. To teach someone that had never been exposed to it how to use it was a bit more daunting than he'd expected. It took more time than he'd anticipated to clarify everything and go through a bit of testing to be sure Undertaker had it down, but he practiced patience and he politely answered the elder's questions and corrected his mistakes. He included a slip of paper with the basic operating instructions so the Undertaker could refer to them if he needed a refresher.

"Well then," he said at last when he was satisfied that Undertaker could operate the phone, "that wasn't so painful. Now we can discuss our findings together. Before I ask about our quarry's recent activity, I have another question to ask of you."

Undertaker leaned against the tombstone again and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's on your mind?"

William took a deep breath as he retrieved his notes from a pocket, uncomfortable about this next part. "What was the manner of your relationship with the doctor before he stole your material and vanished?"

Undertaker looked a bit puzzled. "Manner? That's an odd question to ask."

William suppressed a grimace. "That is to say, were the two of you anything more than colleagues, sir?"

The mortician smirked. "If you're hinting that we might have shagged, the answer's no. I'm interested t' hear what brought this question about."

"A very dirty read of a life-book." Ronald smirked. William hadn't given him details other than the notes the man had written down, but he knew that William had gotten flustered about things a couple of times. Add that to the question William had just asked, and he could draw conclusions that the doctor's life book had hinted at an involvement with the old reaper.

"Man, no wonder you needed to take that twenty minuet break. I would have needed mind-bleach if I had suddenly found myself reading about my mentor doing the do with someone!" he smirked.

William flushed uncomfortably in spite of himself. "The life book was corrupted, but I had to be sure. If there was never anything of a sexual nature between the two of you, then I must assume that he at least entertained some fantasies of that notion."

Undertaker's pale face screwed up at that. "Here now, where are you getting that notion?"

"I took some notes of some key spots within the mess that was the life book that were more coherent than the rest of it," explained William. He offered the notes to the Undertaker. "You can look at them yourself if you can read them, though it may be a bit too dark out here to see the writing clearly."

"Especially without glasses." Ronald said, leaning against an old headstone and crossing his arms, "Hopefully his notes aren't all dead-ends."

William glanced at the phone still grasped in the Undertaker's other hand and an idea occurred to him. "Here...you can use the screen for light if you turn that on."

Undertaker took his advice and he held the notes up close as he shone the light from the phone on them to read the notes. He paused to push his bangs aside, revealing his intense eyes to view as he peered at the notes. After a moment, he made another face.

"Hat licking? Is that some sort of odd human fetish?"

"I wouldn't know...I never dated or slept with a human before." Ronald shrugged, "But I have heard stories of boot fetishes, so I figure it's like that, if it's a thing. Or maybe the guy just really likes your old hat."

"You think this is referencing my hat?" Undertaker's brows went up, and he looked down at the writing again. "Where does it say that ?"

"It doesn't," admitted William. "One could assume it's meant for hats in general, but then I found other passages referring to more things that made me suspect it was all in reference to you. Please read on, sir."

The Undertaker gave a little shrug and continued to scan the notes. His lip squirmed after a moment and he flipped the page over to read more. His eyes widened a bit, then narrowed as he brought the paper closer to read a line again. He snorted.

"Hair sniffing? Caressing a scythe? This doesn't sound like Oswald at all. Are you sure you looked up the right life book?"

"Yes." Ronald crossed his arms stubbornly, "Took me a long time to find it while not being able to read German! The German Library also organizes things differently than England! Plus the text was all screwy! You said that it would be."

"Ronald made no mistake," agreed William. "This was the correct life book. Now then, it's quite possible the bits I took note of were simply a result of the records getting skewed, but if not, then I think you have a larger problem to address. Forgive me for speaking plainly, mentor, but your former associate seems afflicted with an obsession for you. Even if it is not romantic in nature, it bears consideration."

"'Mentor', eh?" Undertaker smirked. "Seems old habits die hard, Willy."

He looked through more of the notes and he shook his head, seeming perplexed. "Mayhap this is an ironic thing for me to say, but this is madness! He never gave me reason to think he was fantasizing about licking my hat, smelling my hair or…wait, what does this say?" He squinted at the writing on the second page.

William stepped closer to read what he was indicating, and he cleared his throat. "That would be 'bathe in your sweat'."

Undertaker's pale face screwed up. "Ew! That's even revolting to me!"

"The guy's creepy." Ronald nodded. "Even worse than Grell when he gets to talking about what he wants to do with people he's crushing on, and he has some fantasies I wish I hadn't had to hear." He shuddered. "Never know what types of guys are secretly thinking about you, I guess. But at least he doesn't mention wanting to drink your blood like a fine wine."

"I'd almost prefer that to bathing in my sweat," grumbled the mortician. "I work with corpses for a living and that's one of the most disturbing things I've been privy to in my life."

He glanced through the rest of the notes before handing them back over to William. "Nothing about a journal anywhere, eh?"

William shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Either the man never wrote one, or that information was buried under all of the chaos resulting from his transformation."

"Hmm, I see." The Undertaker pushed away from the tombstone he was leaning against. "Well then, the best we can do is keep tracking him. Even if we can't find his phylactery, there are ways to subdue him. Can't have him running around gobbling up mortal's memories and showing other folk how to become like him."

"Man, And I really hoped I had a great idea that'd help us, too." Ronald mumbled. He knew he and William hadn't seen any helpful information, but he'd hoped that Undertaker would have seen something they hadn't. The fact that there was still nothing meant that he'd only wasted their time with digging into the life-book.

"It was a good idea," admitted the Undertaker with a shrug. "Worth a try, anyhow. I didn't really expect it to yield good results, but sometimes even a slim hope is better than none at all. Ah well, back to the drawing board."

"How do you propose we subdue this creature?" questioned William. "You said yourself that you aren't entirely certain of what he's capable of and what his weaknesses are."

"It's a hard thing to predict with a lich," agreed the mortician. "Like I said before: no two of them are exactly alike and the good doctor was already quite a brilliant chap before he did his little trick. Best advice I can give to anyone is not to underestimate him. Stay on your toes and don't get distracted when we finally catch up with him. As for how to subdue him, I've got a few tricks up my oversized sleeves, myself. Some things are universal, of course. Fire's always a weakness, and not even a lich is immune to damage from a death scythe. If we have to chop all the fellow's limbs off to keep him from escaping while we look for his phylactery, then that's what we'll do."

"Lovely," sighed William. "Have you any way to neutralize his abilities, should we capture him?"

"There's some runes we could use," answered the Undertaker. "In fact, I'm going to show you chaps how to make them properly. It's probably for the best, in case the two of you run into him when I'm not around."

"But, we have never seen this guy before. How will we know it's even him unless he's eating memories?" Ronald asked, "You know, if you aren't with us. Is there some physical aspect to tell him apart from humans? Like how reapers have our eyes and demons have black nails?"

The Undertaker glanced down at his hands with raised brows, pointedly looking at his own long black nails. "Er, right. Demons...nails. Anyhow, a lich gives off a chill, for a start. They also tend t' be smelly. Us reapers carry a subtle scent of death too, but a lich's scent is one more of decay...like rotting meat. I s'pose bathing regularly might help with that but the ones I've run into before didn't seem too fussed with personal hygiene. Oh, and the eyes will be cloudy, kind of like my dolls' but without that blank, vacant stare."

"So...follow our noses towards the smell of disgusting? Great... what fun." Ronald rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing this guy isn't going to be popular with the ladies or gents."

Undertaker chuckled. "Lichdom doesn't improve the love life, I imagine. I s'pose some folk are just more desperate for immortality than a good shag, though. I can give you lads a physical description of him, but I'm afraid I don't have a picture to share."

"A description will have to do then," sighed William. "Is there anything else of note that you could share with us that might enable us to track him down faster? Favorite haunts perhaps, or habits? Surely there must be something."

The mortician thought about it for a moment, and he leaned against the tombstone again. "Well, he's fond of operas, but I doubt he'll find any opera houses out here on the road. Best we can do for now is follow the trail of blank records 'till he settles somewhere more populated. He'll likely slip up and treat himself to a show, or meet up with some Nazi's to do more experiments. Filthy blighter knows some of my secrets now, after all. His talents aren't nearly as good as mine, but if he's low on funds, he could probably sell them to interested parties along the way."

"...I'm hoping you mean like, funeral services." Ron muttered. He didn't know what all the man could do, and frankly, what he did know was enough for him.

Undertaker smirked. "Not so much. Think more along the lines of unethical medical practices. Doctor Becker is quite familiar with the human brain, and some of our research together inspired him a bit, I imagine. Picture him selling the idea of the perfect minions to the axis, Mr. Knox. Rather than eliminate the 'filth' of gypsies, Jewish folk and anyone else that offends them, he could probably sell the idea of turning them into slavish soldiers to the Nazi's. Who better to go after their own people, yeah?"

William made a disgusted sound. "Revolting."

Undertaker looked at him and he smiled, tilting his head. "Does it tickle your fine sensibilities, chap? The thought of your countrymen using the rabble to help kill off their own kind?"

Stiffening, William narrowed his eyes at him. "What did you expect, sir? The very idea is cowardly, regardless of whether it's done by mortal hands or not."

"Hmm, yes," agreed the older reaper. "It's tough to hold onto that neutrality we're all so staunchly taught to practice. When you see the evil that men do and you run out of excuses for it? 'Course it wears on the soul."

"Do you have to bring that kind of topic up?" Ronald scowled. He pushed himself up to walk closer to William.

"Why not?" questioned the madman with a white-toothed grin. "I'm just speaking the facts, boy. Your superior knows that better than most."

William steeled himself against the effects of his former mentor's words. "Regardless of intention, the subject matter bears no importance to our goals. If you wish to discuss the roads that lead to madness, Undertaker, please do us all the favor of saving it for a more appropriate time—preferably after we have dealt with this lich."

Undertaker sighed as if put out by William's rejection of his theories, but he shrugged. "Suit yourself, my lad. I'm only trying to look out for your better interests."

"How?" demanded William. "By baiting me? Contrary to what you may think, I am not so inclined to join you in your insanity."

The Undertaker chuckled. "And who says you'll have much of a choice, Willy? Keep going the way you do and you'll wind up like poor ol' me. Mark my words."

"I do." Ronald said firmly, moving between the two older men. "I say he has a choice. He's not alone dealing with these things—he has me."

William looked at Ronald with a slight flush to his cheeks, finding his announcement both pleasing and embarrassing. He wasn't sure how to react to it, and he struggled inwardly while the Undertaker chuckled with amusement.

"Is that so, Ronnie-boy?" Undertaker's smile was like a death's grin, pale lips pulling taut over perfectly straight, ivory teeth. He nodded at William, his amusement apparently not fading. "Looks as though he's got a support structure I myself lacked. Isn't that lovely? Tell me though; if your senior officer goes off his nut like I did, will you have the stones to bring him in? Could you turn on him...go against him? I'm not sure Willy has what it takes to do the same to me. What about you, Mister Knox?"

"Enough," muttered William. His heart ached even as he listened to the Undertaker's words. "As agreed earlier, there shall be no conflict between us until after we have resolved the more pressing issue of this creature you have created. I know agent Knox's value and quite frankly sir, it is greater than your own."

He was surprised by his own words, and William's eyes widened briefly as the Undertaker's albino lips formed into an "O" of amazement. Will cleared his throat and looked away hastily. "Knox has proven his value in the field, which is more than I can currently say for yourself, sir."

Ronald's eyes as he turned to look back at William were the size of sand dollars, behind his thick black frames.

Did William just really say that? That he had proven to be of more value on the field than the legendary Reaper Death?" Surely he'd misheard—!

But no. William stuck to his declaration, and the boy's heart soared. He felt as if his heart was so light his feet would lift off the ground at any moment. He had to school himself. Now was not the time to start acting like a giddy school girl. He needed to focus on something else. Undertaker had asked him something, right?

Clearing his throat, he turned back to the Undertaker, "You are a wanted man because of your experiments with making things like your dolls. Even if this war is too much for Will, he wouldn't do that because—" he paused. Would William appreciate the truth of what was happening between them to get out to this man? Really, he had no way of knowing. He hadn't been asked to keep it discreet... just to act professional while on the job.

"Because he'll still have me by his side, even after he retires. I won't let him become a lonely old man who talks to the dead more than the living." He took a deep breath, risking things a little more, and he stepped back and took William's gloved hand in his, "I wouldn't stop loving Will if he needs to retire after this war!"

William stared speechlessly at Ronald for a moment, unsure of how to respond to his passionate utterance. The Undertaker began to chortle with amusement before he could even formulate a response though, and Will narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in annoyance as his former mentor started to speak up.

"Oh my goodness, I think Willy has more than just a friend in his youthful li'l companion!"

"There is no question about it." Ronald confirmed it, "And he may be upset at me for saying so, but I think you need to know that he's not alone at all—no matter how this war ends!"

Undertaker's smile took to his ears. "Yeah? Well, that's a good thing, I say. Mayhap with such a loyal pup at his side he'll stave off the madness where I couldn't." He sobered and looked down at the sodden earth, heaving a small sigh. "Solitude doesn't help, that's for certain."

William swallowed, feeling a tide of emotion rising to the surface again, threatening to drown him. "You didn't have to be alone either, sir. You could have come to me. I would have been at your side through it all, if you'd have just allowed it."

The Undertaker looked up again, tilting his head in that wolfishly curious way of his. The smile returned to his lips, though it was faintly nostalgic and it didn't reach his eyes. He reached out and he patted William on the head as if he were a small boy needing comfort. "Ah, but I didn't want to put you through that, Will. I saw where I was heading, my lad, and you had better things in your future than taking care of a drooling madman."

That nearly broke William. Having learned to resist sentiment and affectionate contact through most of his life, he suffered the urge to throw his arms around his old mentor and give him the hug that he'd never dared give before. He shoved the ridiculous urge aside—as he tended to do with every affectionate impulse—and he stiffened as he mentally locked it up.

"If you say so. I shan't be following you into your madness, however. Perhaps for you it was easier to run away than to face it with someone that would have been by your side no matter what, but that is not the case with me."

"My, aren't you uppity." Undertaker clucked his tongue, and there was a bitterness behind his smirk. "But I s'pose I can't fault you for lashing out like this. I hope for your sake that your friend here with his funny two-toned hair can give you what you need, William. You're far too stiff to bend with it like I do, and you'll shatter if you try."

"My hair is not 'funny'." Ronald muttered, running a hand through it. "It's sexy."

William very nearly smirked. "I hardly think that you're the one to be giving out fashion advice, Undertaker. This has been the first time I have seen you in anything except for your usual drab robes since you defected from Dispatch."

The Undertaker waved a negligent hand. "Fine, fine. Pick on an old bloke's choice of clothes. We can argue the finer points of hair and fashion some other time."

"Old man's just jealous that he can't be as stylish as the Knoxie." Ronald smirked, pointing his thumb at his chest. He liked this more playful topic over the idea of William shattering into madness.

"Well, regardless of fashion choices, we need to know what our quarry has been up to," William reminded. "I presume you've been keeping up with that in our absence, sir?"

"Much as I'm able to," agreed the Undertaker. "Last meal he had was last night. The victim was a young lady that succumbed to a lung infection. Too bad I didn't arrive on time t' stop him and catch him, but without access to the Death Lists, it's a might tough for me to know who's on their way out for sure and predict where he'll go next. I've got a bit of foresight but it's not pinpoint accurate, you understand."

Ronald nodded, "And the lists are always changing and updating. It'd be hard to forward you copies on the phone seeing as names are always being added up to seconds before. But... we could try, maybe?" he looked at William. He was just an officer, after all. He had no right to offer such a deal with a retired reaper. Such decisions would be better made by a supervisor or higher ranking reaper.

"I think given the circumstances, that may be our best option," agreed William. "It won't be a perfect system, but it may be useful in keeping us a step ahead. Undertaker, would you agree with this?"

"Hmm, might work." The ancient nodded his silver head, his concealed gaze flicking to Ronald. "I can see why you've partnered up with him. Chap gets some good ideas."

"Yes, he does." Will's gaze flicked to Ronald, and he thought of a few certain ideas in particular that were better left unsaid in mixed company. He flushed a little and he made himself stop staring at him. "Well then, I suppose there isn't much left to be said, this evening. I suggest we all retire and get rested up to resume the hunt tomorrow. I don't imagine a lich requires much rest?"

Undertaker shrugged. "Despite the phrase 'sleep like the dead', the dead don't do much sleeping at all. That's part of what keeps the bloke three steps ahead of us. Might be a good idea t' sleep in shifts, once we're on the move again. If we can keep moving once we pick up his trail again, we'll have a better chance of catching him."

"But Will and I still have collections. We can't be all tired and crap while doing our job. It's dangerous enough without being super tired." Ron pointed out. "And I'm not just saying that because I love to sleep in!"

"And that's why I suggested sleeping in shifts," reminded the Undertaker with a cluck of his tongue. "Goodness, sometimes I don't think you young folk listen at all. If we get some sort of vehicle to travel in, we can take turns sleeping while someone else drives. Of course we'll likely have to steal it, but it's a far cry better than going about on foot or using up your energy on portal jumping. I'd say we could take a train but those things only go where the tracks take 'em. A motor car would be ideal."

"Do you even know how to drive?" questioned William dubiously. Given that the man was so out of touch with reaper technology, it was doubtful he was any more familiar with mortal technology aside from medicine.

The mortician smiled. "What's there to know? You just push some pedals and steer."

"Heavens," sighed William, rolling his eyes skyward. "You'll wreck us before you even make it onto the road. I suppose Ronald and I could tutor you until you understand the mechanics well enough to be trusted to drive without supervision."

"I was! It still means being up when I want to be sleeping." Ronald huffed, crossing his arms as the subject advanced from sleeping to driving.

"Don't be a brat," scolded Undertaker. "My sleep schedule's been buggered up since all this began but you don't see me whining."

William sighed. "We will work out a schedule that will hopefully allow each of us to get enough rest. There is no point in arguing about it. The sooner we capture this lich and bring him to justice, the sooner we can all return to our usual routines."

"Unless you dob me in," countered Undertaker.

William compressed his lips with annoyance. "I have already given you my word that once we've succeeded in our goal; I will turn my back to you and allow you to leave without a fight. Whether I'm ordered to go after you again in the future is another matter, but I shall keep my word to you on this matter, Undertaker. Now I think we should be getting back to have dinner and rest. Ronald and I will meet up with you in the morning and we will decide how to proceed from there."

"Suit yourself. Sleep tight, then." Undertaker twiddled his fingers at them as Will and Ron turned to go.

"I'm going to miss sleep..." Ronald muttered as he followed William out of the cemetery. "Dream parties, I will miss..."

"I really don't think that parties are what you should be worrying about," William reasoned. "There will be plenty of time for you to party once we've finished this assignment and returned home to London. I shall even accompany you to some of them, if you like."

It was a subtle reminder that the return of party time wasn't the only thing Ronald could look forward to. While William himself wasn't much for parties, he did look forward to taking the younger reaper out on the town and treating him to dinner, and perhaps some ballroom dancing. He couldn't imagine himself for one second waving his arms around and gyrating to modern dance music the way those club-hopping reapers did, but he was quite good at the classical dances. Club dancing reminded him of someone going into seizures.

"William."

The supervisor stopped in his tracks as he heard the whisper, uttered by a voice he did not recognize. "Ronald, did you hear that?" It had sounded like it was right in his ear, but there was nobody else nearby.

"Hear what?" Ron asked, continuing to walk, "And I was talking about parties in my dreams. Only kind I can really have fun with currently."

William forgot all about Ronald's complaints, too distracted by the sound of someone whispering into his ear. "I thought that I heard...but never mind. I must have been mistaken."

He recalled the Undertaker warning him not to answer "the voices" if he heard them, and a shiver passed through him. Was he going mad now, after all? Was he hearing the voices of the dead, or was his mind simply beginning to fracture from too much stress? He resumed walking, eyes narrowed on every shadow and shoulders tense. He braced himself as they left the graveyard and he began to form a portal back to their realm.

"Spears..."

Clenching his jaw, William did his best to ignore it. His technique was sloppy though, and the distraction cost him. When he and Ronald stepped through the portal he'd made, they ended up clear on the other side of town, far from the location of the hotel.

"Oh hells," muttered William, embarrassed.

"...Distracted much?" Ron observed, looking around, "Or were you aiming for a romantic moonlit stroll through the streets?"

The blond walked over to Will and placed his hands on the man's shoulders, "Are you okay? I know the man upset you a little back there...or maybe it was me? I'm sorry if it was."

"It wasn't you," William assured, even as he looked around suspiciously. "I believe something that the Undertaker said to me simply troubled me more than I realized. I'm only imagining things."

A part of him wanted to confide more in Ronald, to tell him that he'd heard a voice whisper his name not once, but twice since leaving the cemetery. Perhaps working with his former mentor was going to be more trying than he suspected. He didn't want to alarm Ronald though; especially since he hadn't heard that whisper since stepping through the portal to the other side. He was just spooked, he supposed. He'd let the Undertaker's insane talk get to him.

"Well, we aren't going to get to our lodgings more quickly by standing here speculating on the words of a lunatic," he decided aloud, trying to put the incident behind him. "You should probably create the portal to take us to the hotel, Ronald. I suspect my mind is too tired and distracted for accuracy, at the moment."

"Sure." Ronald summoned his scythe to his hand, and then paused, glancing back at William before turning and planting a short but heated kiss to his lips, "I meant what I said back there; you know that, don't you? That I'm here for you no matter what?"

William nodded. "I know."

And he did. Of all the reapers he worked with, he knew that Ronald was the one he could rely on most. Perhaps it hadn't always been that way and perhaps Knox wasn't always the most punctual of reapers—even lazy at times, but he had proven that when it really mattered, he could be counted on and trusted. Pity William was so terrible with words so that he could say so to him, but he believed his actions spoke for him better than words could. He watched as the younger man opened the portal, and they stepped through together and arrived precisely where he'd meant to bring them with his own portal.

"Thank you, Ronald," he said softly, still humiliated over his blunder. It was not like him to make mistakes like that, but he'd been doing many things of late that were not like him. His stomach growled and he checked his watch. "I'd say room service would be an excellent idea before bed."

They'd eaten dinner before venturing back into the mortal realm to locate the Undertaker again, but that had been hours ago. Even a small appetizer to snack on before bed would be helpful.

"Okay, but only if you agree to share a bed with me tonight!" Ronald tried, though he was also feeling the hunger. He was still young and had a huge appetite, after all. But getting his boyfriend to share a bed sounded even better to him.

William almost smiled. "I think that can be arranged."

Though he did not hear any further voices after crossing over to their realm, William's sleep was troubled that night. He dreamt of the day when Legendary Death returned to London Dispatch headquarters from the war, wrapped in bloodied bandages and barely able to speak from the damage done to his throat. He'd collapsed on the steps of the building and personnel went frantic. After hearing that his mentor had returned grievously injured, William raced to headquarters and he arrived just in time to see the medics carrying Death out on a gurney to load him into the emergency carriage for transport to the hospital.

He'd followed behind and acquired what information he could on his mentor's condition. They said he might lose his eye and his voice—if he even survived. They would not allow anyone save top ranking officers of Dispatch to visit him, and William waited for days to finally be given clearance for a visit.

What he found when he arrived at Death's hospital room would be branded into his memory forever. His mentor was awake and the medics had surgically stitched up his terrible injuries, but he was ranting and raving like a lunatic. Hospital personnel was trying to restrain him to the bed, and Death alternated between cursing them and cackling madly. He accused them of trying to 'break' him and he didn't seem to realize who they really were at all. William was quickly pushed aside by more medical staff and told that he had to leave, and the last thing he saw was the reaper he so admired howling at the top of his lungs.

"If you hear the voices, don't answer."

William came awake with a cry, his body glistening with sweat and his hair damp with it.

Ronald, having been sharing the bed with William, had been jostled awake by William's thrashing and constant readjusting. For once, he wasn't trying to cling to sleep and when William cried out and bolted upright, the blond slowly pushed himself up as well. He slipped his arms around William's middle and kissed his shoulder.

"William?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, similar to how his mother used to speak to him when he had nightmares of monsters under his bed as a child.

William drew a shuddering gasp, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Ronald. It was Ronald embracing him. He impulsively laid his hands over the blond's and shut his eyes. "It was a nightmare," he said unnecessarily. "I was dreaming of when the Undertaker returned from the war, a shredded, insane mess. He was nothing like the reaper I'd come to know. He was like a wounded, wild animal. All sense of reason was gone from him, and it was shortly after his physical recovery from his injuries that he vanished."

He wasn't even quite sure what he was saying. He opened his eyes again and he rubbed his forehead. "Voices," he murmured. "Will I fall as well?"

Ronald frowned further and shifted closer to embrace him from behind, tighter. "I can't promise that you won't," he whispered, "But I can promise I'm here for you. I'll be your life line, Will." he paused and nuzzled the man's ear, "It's okay to listen to my voice," he said, remembering the warning that Undertaker had given William. "If you start hearing voices like he suggested, only listen to mine. I'll lead you back safe."

William turned his head to look at him, though he couldn't make out his features very well in the dark—much less without his glasses. His presence was enough though, and a tremble went through him. "And if I should turn on you, the way the Undertaker turned on Dispatch?"

"Would you?" he asked, "Would you push me away from you? You have feelings for me, Will, we both know it. We got together like this because the feeling is natural. I give you something he never thought he had. He was alone..."

The blond shifted around so that he could look William in the eye as best he could in the dark and without glasses. He cupped the man's face and leaned forward to hiss him, "I'm in love with you, William. And I won't let you needlessly be alone to fall into madness."

Nobody had ever offered such support and...kindness...to him before. Will couldn't decide quite how to respond to it. His heart was still hammering in his chest, and he leaned over to reach for his glasses on the nightstand so that he could see more clearly. He twisted in the bed once he had the spectacles on and he stared at Ronald, now able to see more of his features in the light of the moon coming through the window. He took a deep breath, and he spoke in as gentle a voice as one such as himself could muster.

"I would not turn against you of my own free will, Ronald. Nor would I even think of turning on Dispatch, but lately I fear I'm feeling less in control of myself than I would like to believe. I fear if it could happen to the Undertaker, it may happen to me as well. Should that happen, I would ask you not to hesitate to do what you must. Harming you would...I could not..."

He shook his head and he sighed at his own inability to express himself. Why could he not simply tell this persistent loyal reaper the truth of his feelings, as Ronald had done with him? "I would rather die than bring any harm to you," he finally admitted, lowering his gaze, "and you are the first to ever offer me the depth of devotion you've shown. I shall try to be worthy of it."

William was a lot sweeter and... dare he say it, cuter than people gave the man credit for. Of course, most didn't even care to see past the cold, professional front the man showed in the office. As far as Ronald knew, only Grell had come close to that before him...well, maybe Undertaker as well, but he hadn't been around back then to see what the man was like in his younger years. And Grell's fascination was much shallower. The redhead fancied William, but wasn't devoted to those feelings. He was also selfish about it, which only drove William away from the idea of anything but professional relations with him.

Ronald looked up to Grell, he really did. But he wasn't blind to the man's faults.

"I know words from your heart aren't your strong suit," he whispered, offering a smile, "But you do speak to me in other ways you may not even realize you've started doing." He took Will's hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, "Just let me stay by your side through this."

Will kept staring at him, fighting with himself. He wanted to open up to Ronald—death knew, he'd never done so with anyone else save his mother as a child. He simply didn't know how. He took another slow, shuddering breath and he simply drew the younger reaper close and urged him to lie down with him. He removed his glasses and replaced them on the nightstand, and then he ran his hands up and down Ronald's back, trying to convey with actions what he could not seem to do with words. As he did this, he buried his face against the crook of Ron's neck and breathed in his sent, taking what comfort he could from the contact.

"I'm here for you, Will...always." Ronald whispered, sliding his arms around William, rubbing his back.

William nodded, heaving a weary sigh as he gave the other reaper a squeeze. He never would have imagined him having this sort of closeness with anyone—let alone the office flirt. But just as Ronald had learned more about who he was beneath his chilly exterior, William had learned that agent Knox was a much deeper individual than anyone could guess. He didn't know if the future would bring them closer together or tear them apart, but for now, he intended to take what he could get.

-To be continued