Chapter Six

The second letter she had received had not been touched until later that evening. She'd left Undertaker to close the shop, having no desire or urge to kiss or even touch him upon her exit. Still slightly upset over what happened yesterday and his beating around the bush today, Vivian could only hope she was actually securing herself a job rather than wasting time.

She sat upon her bed, reading the second letter, which explained his retirement in five years and few other points about the grim reapers. Figuring Undertaker was going about his work as usual, Vivian tried to think about what she was doing. This was a divine being, and such a relationship was most likely uncalled for. In mortal years, she wasn't even sure how Undertaker would add up. Obviously he was a much older man, but she wondered that if she'd re-proportioned his reaper life what his age would be in mortal years.

Coming back to the shop over and over was her weakest link. No matter what she did, there was no getting a straight answer from him concerning anything he didn't want to talk about, so she tried making it a point to change her subjects often. Some days, she wouldn't speak to him and other days, the shop was all her own.

Upon the end of the week, Undertaker always left something on his desk for her. Money was something he didn't have much of, but once and a while there were a good number of bills on the desk for her. Most of the time though, it was material items like clothing, jewelry, or food. Trying to ask him where he acquired such items was beyond attempt, for she was starting to predict his answers fairly accurately.

"You're in some deep thought today," Undertaker noted. It was another day off from reaping so he was around full time to manage the shop with her as she was cleaning around the coffins and restocking items in the lobby area like the tea.

Vivian turned to face him, only to be met with his white bangs hanging in front of his face even though she knew what was beneath them. She couldn't face it, and her body turned back to what she was doing. Undertaker stood up, dropping the pen he'd been writing with for some time. Before moving to the next order, he made his way over to her, but she seemed to enjoy ignoring him when he tried getting her to talk.

"What's bothering you?" he asked again, this time wrapping his arms around her, hoping it would improve the situation, if only slightly, to get her talking. Vivian stopped everything and her body began to shake.

"Promise me...promise me that five years is the end and that after that-" she was unable to finish the sentence, as her body began to shake even more violently and her eyes welled up with tears. Perhaps she'd been thinking about this much to long. Undertaker held her tighter, helping her to stand upright. Spinning her around, he finally saw she was far more upset than she'd been letting on.

This was too much for her. Humans relied on money, which Undertaker could care less about. After everything he'd given her, she hadn't sold one thing to make a profit. She wore the dresses and the necklaces to work so she didn't look like she was from the east end of the city. Within a few weeks of time, Vivian had started a wardrobe fit for a noble along with one crystalized necklace.

"My goodness," he said, taking a long sleeve from the arm of his hooded cloak and wiping her eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

Vivian did not reply, but she sucked up her tears, forcing herself not to cry or show weakness right now. Instead, she pushed back the right side of his bangs so she could look him straight in the eye. Letting his bangs fall back down with a smile barely on her face, her hand moved down the braid she'd left him and she grabbed the tied off end, her hand still shaking.

"Just...if you don't want me, then fire me," she said, turning herself back to work. Undertaker didn't know what to say to this. He couldn't read her emotions or even resonate with what was happening inside her mind. The severed connection made him feel uncomfortable.

Vivian refused to talk to him until she had to for the rest of that day. The girl was barely holding herself together as Undertaker noticed while she collected the money from a customer. He even asked if she was all right, and she replied that she was okay, just a little tired.

Closing time meant that she could go home, and she promptly packed up her things and left the establishment as soon as the drawer was counted.

"Vivian," Undertaker called, making her stop at the doorway just as she was about to leave his sight. "Five years, I promise."

"O-okay..." Vivian left the shop. Tonight, she almost felt sorry for herself, falling for this grim reaper. Falling for a grim reaper in the first place was dreadful enough it seemed. But, he was retiring. Whatever that meant.

Her family asked over and over why she didn't bring home any money and she explained that her boss had wanted a new wardrobe for her first, so he bought her a few things which she had to work for in exchange. The lie wasn't meant to keep for much longer, and VIvian thought she'd have to start selling items off, even if it pained her to do so. He'd already gotten her so many nice things, which he must have either traded or bought or gotten from some source or another. How were reapers paid anyway? she wondered to herself as she climbed into bed.

Tonight, there was nothing to be done about a rumbling stomach. There was no food until tomorrow when her mother and brother were paid from their jobs. Her younger sister slept soundly in the next room, probably full from school lunch today. After a few more tears fell from her face, Vivian let herself rest on the pillow and upon the rough mattress laid out for her since she was 10 years old.

Undertaker locked the shop firmly this time and after dividing up the bills for the building, water supply and customer orders, he found out that the shop was actually making a nicer profit than he'd previously expected. His customers were frequent enough, and he was even able to catch wind of some of London's latest gossip stories, including mysterious murders.

The queen's coin was worthless to him, so he'd boughten things for Vivian with his own reaper's salary, which was already high enough to make him start the business all over again if he really wanted to. Tonight, his To Die list was covered with victims of disease and murder, as messy as the people committing the crimes.

With each soul came a desire to look up at the street signs. He was looking for an opening in which to stop at Vivian's house. An envelope had been prepared for her because after all, it was nearing the end of the work week. Ah yes, her family must be questioning by now what kind of job she had, considering all she'd bring back with her were material items, now that he really thought about it.

The souls were like nothing to him. In fact, even with Vivian on his mind all night, he still managed to reap every soul on time and return the cinematic records to the library just in time to catch about eight hours of sleep.

Stopping outside the library, Undertaker decided to sacrifice one of those hours. That last stop seemed extremely important right now, and as he made his way through the back alley, he thought about Vivian's progress in the shop, which had grown remarkably since she'd begun. It had only been a few weeks, but she learned more about what the customer wanted. Not so much decorating the dead that came through, but coffin sales and fittings were becoming one of her strong suits.

For that, he felt she could not go unnoticed whether she liked him or not at the moment. Getting into the house couldn't have been simpler, but just as he set down the letter and envelope...

Chilling steel brushed against his throat, and another came around to threaten one of his kidney regions. He smirked, drawing his death scythe.

"How thrilling," he said, breaking the grasp and spinning himself around, but he was met with nothing but the wind's gale through the bedroom window. Checked the ceiling, checked the fireplace, checked even under the bed, but his attacker must have been somewhere else in the house.

The door was open, but it had been like that since he'd waltzed his own way inside. He pulled back the covers of the bed to discover pillows lying there. No Vivian.

His head shot to the door way and he was ready to dash and find her immediately.

"So it is you sneaking about my room while I'm asleep," her voice was a signal that was more than okay. Turning, he found her hanging upside down outside of her window.

"How on earth did you manage that?" Undertaker asked.

"How kind of you to worry for me," Vivian said, swinging herself back inside. "I'll admit, I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"No one ever expects death, my dear," he said. "At least, no one like you."

Vivian stared at him for a while longer, taking in his presence before approaching him again, brushing the white hair from his face to show his eyes. As she reached for his death scythe, he swung his arm away.

"Ah ah," he said.

"No no," she replied. "I just wanted you to put it down." She guided his hand to drop the death scythe at her bedside. Swallowing, Vivian ran her fingers through his hair, smirking as she found the braid still embedded within his hair.

"So unfair," Undertaker sighed, grasping her shoulders.

"Hm?"

Undertaker drew her in and clashed his lips against hers, which she most gratefully accepted. Vivian put her arms around his neck, falling into his arms and allowing him to hold her up completely, but when he couldn't take it anymore, he backed her slowly to the bed. Practically tripping onto the bed, Undertaker wouldn't allow himself to be separated from her, not when she allowed him to get this close.

They'd made love between the sheets of her bed, ending in sweat and satisfaction between both of them, and they lay close to one other still. Undertaker turned to face her.

"You were rather inconsolable all day," he remarked. "And then I come here and look where we end up. What's going on, Vivian? Tell me."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Sometimes, it's just frustrating. You're never around. And when I work, I can't bring it upon myself to sell anything you give to me, but my family needs that money. And, and as much as I love you, it's just...more difficult than I expected."

"I told you, only five more years," Undertaker replied.

"That's a lot for a mortal," Vivian refuted.

"Well then," Undertaker said. "We're just going to need a way to make you immortal."