William T. Spears arrived too soon.
Five minutes later, or only three, and the situation would have resolved itself neatly. Two dead rogue Reapers. One carefully edited announcement of their crime and its consequences. Some paperwork, sealed and deliberately misfiled to prevent unauthorised review. A hearing to satisfy those superiors who felt that nothing was complete without their input. Redistribution of duties across the Department. Punitive overtime awarded to anyone who gossiped.
Two - no, four new hires; the salaries of two seniors would easily cover two trainees and an intern or so. (The rogues had to be his two most reliable seniors, of course. Honestly.) After a few weeks everything would settle to a normal state of overwork. Assign the trainees to those Reapers most likely to become a problem if they had time to brood. Set the interns to completing their seniors' paperwork and everyone else would be deliriously happy. Afterlife would go on.
But William T. Spears had arrived too soon.
...
He saved the sick one from the mad one. He took them into custody. He arranged the retrieval and cataloguing of 999 innocent souls. He ordered the prisoners to undergo medical examinations and was unsurprised by the findings. When their friends began to ask if mercy might be extended, William T. Spears was noncommittal. The greatest mercy now possible would be a quick execution for both. William T. Spears did not associate the Higher Ups with mercy.
The Judgement was delivered within a week. He read it carefully, then read it again. Merciful indeed, on the surface, and many would consider it a lenient sentence. William T. Spears thought it was the most vicious piece of cruelty imaginable. He reminded himself that emotions had no business in the workplace, that the rules were everything, and that Reapers existed to do the Will of the Higher Ups. He reminded himself of the magnitude of the crime, which subverted everything a Reaper was created to accomplish. He reminded himself that there was no solace in drink, drugs or sex. He reminded himself that this was his punishment also, for the crimes he had failed to prevent.
He had yanked Agent Knox away from his latest love interest. Had he paused to be polite to the young lady, would it have delayed them long enough?
...
Alan Humphries' disease had progressed. He looked drawn, tired, and thinner than before. He was guiding Eric Slingby, stunned and shocky from the soul extraction. They stood before the Law in an empty meeting room, each hoping for some way to protect the other.
William T. Spears read the Judgement, overriding Alan's plea that they be judged together and Eric's protests that Alan was blameless. The sentence was deceptively simple.
Alan was exonerated. He was summarily retired on half-pay, as he was far too sick to Reap and no other division would hire him for deskwork when he was obviously desperately ill. A small house in the country would be provided for his use.
Eric was remanded to Alan's custody. They would live together as jailer and prisoner. There would be supervision. Reports would be filed regularly. A sharp glance assured that Eric fully understood that any misbehavior would cause Alan to be punished.
And so the chains were forged. Alan would have an unpaid caregiver for the final pain-filled months of his life. Eric would watch him waste away, then live on in solitude while his own case of Thorns ran its course. This was the mercy of the Higher Ups.
If only he had not been so quick to the scene.
...
William frets. His immortal reapers are watching one of their own die without hope of achieving forgiveness. It's causing nightmares, drunkenness and sudden explosive fights. Efficiency suffers. The tone of the office shifts - Slingby's confident competence, Humphries' sympathetic supportiveness are much missed. He looks to other departments for qualified Seniors willing to transfer. There are none. As a distraction, William revises the duty roster so that each Reaper must learn a new territory. It seems to help.
...
Even retired, they are still his veterans. Therefore he feels it is only proper that he keeps himself acquainted with their welfare. Besides, Slingby has to be watched for any sign of instability. The Supervision team reports that Humphries has been working steadily in the garden by the house, but that Slingby has been doing more and more of the heavy digging. As summer cools to autumn, Alan's strength begins to fail. His attacks are becoming more frequent, his recoveries slower.
In late winter Humphries suffers a series of severe attacks. Subsequent reports indicate that he will not leave his bed again. It is also mentioned that Slingby has developed an odd distant stare when not actively engaged in chores or conversation. Spears calls in his strongest Reaper, the agent least likely to be overpowered and disarmed. The meeting is painful and includes a dramatic display of unprofessional emotion, but William's stern discipline prevails. Humphries is dying, in agony. A bereaved and suicidal Slingby running mad with a stolen scythe would be an utter disaster.
Alan's name appears on the Death list in early spring. Spears immediately notifies Sutcliff. Sutcliff understands loss; she eases Slingby aside and reaps Alan as gently as possible, using a small scythe worthless for rampages. She has bespoken a coffin which is immediately delivered. Together, she and Eric lay out Alan's body, dressed in his old uniform. Sutcliff tucks and folds the extra cloth beneath the gaunt corpse in an attempt to hide the ravages of the disease. Eric conceals more of the damage by filling the casket with blooming heather, which seems to have a private significance.
Meanwhile, William T. Spears assembles his Department to pay their last respects. Humphries was a Reaper in good standing, a hard worker and a loyal friend. Spears will not allow this death to be shrugged off with a note at the bottom of an interoffice memo. His people must not infer that injured Reapers are considered expendable. Morale is quite bad enough as it is. Spears assigns half his juniors to the interment and spreads their work among the other half. He must keep them all too busy to chatter and dwell. He must never, he must never again, allow any of his people to incur the mercy of the Higher Ups.
Only three minutes' delay, or four...to spare so many so much pain.
...
Slingby's mourning is profound but controlled, much to Spears' relief. Slingby is dying as his partner has died, although as a criminal he will be hustled underground without notice or ceremony. From his appearance, Spears rather suspects that Slingby has stopped eating. Perhaps this will all end sooner than he had dared hope.
Agent Sutcliff expedites the burial. Spears wants everything finished quickly so he can suppress any inappropriate reactions and force everyone back into their familiar routines. He watches as the juniors fill in the grave. An unmarked gravestone is settled into place. No name, no date - the Higher Ups' last mark of disapproval. In a unique flash of insubordination, William resolves to send a stonemason to engrave a proper inscription. Not now. In a year or so. They will be watching him for a while, until a newer scandal diverts their attention.
Under his forbidding eye, London Dispatch goes back to work. At shift change, Agent Knox reports to the staff that Director Spears has gone to his office and closed his door. All the day shift adjourn to the nearest bar, where Humphries will be waked with dignity and affection. It is clearly understood that any disrespect will detonate Sutcliff and Knox, who together could convert half the Reaper Realm into a sheet of cloudy glass. William has controlled them by asking them to control the others.
In his office, Spears turns to his paperwork. He tries not to think of Slingby, alone in the little house with his memories and madness and the thorns curling within his skin.
Mercy.