Clip, clop...

Clip, clop...

Clip, clop...

Tears burned two-toned gems of emerald.

Betrayal stung worse than the tears in his eyes or the bitter wind pricking his skin through layers of clothes. A pit formed in his heart that could not shatter for it was already in pieces. Throat tight and choked up, he refused to cry. Grell Sutcliff, as much as a lady as he wished he was, could not bring himself to be so fragile and weak like one. He would be no better than his beloved Angeline. After all, that weakness was why he killed her, so shouldn't he kill himself should he bring himself so low?

Despite the lack of rain at the moment, it was as wet and dimal in London as ever. The puddles on the ground were frozen over to make a trail of mini lakes along the roads and streets. Icicles hung from signs and balconies, threatening the lives of those who walked under them.

Grell smirked to himself, imagining an icicle falling and impaling an unsuspecting passerby below through their brains, protruding from their chin, and tip stained red and grey with their blood and brains. He'd watch as their head, and throat, and clothes, and body, and sick, grotesque being drenched in red. Oh red...so lovely...red...red...red...red..red, red, red, red, red, RED!

Yes...That would do nicely. And who better to be so unsuspecting beneath those icicles but his beloved William T. Spears?

The red reaper pictured green and yellow eyes staring off into nothing, and he could feel the cold frames of William's glasses in his hands as he stripped the man of what seemed to be the most important thing int nhe world to him. Glasses that meant more to him than he...Grell Sutcliff.

Once sickened thoughts fell to despair, feeling that unwanted tug of tears in the corners of his eyes. Why did no one want him? Was he not desireable? What was so wrong with him that no one could bare to stay around...look at him like a living being? Then again, he'd already died. He wasn't really living, was he?

Grell stopped to look around at the cheery surroundings, shops already set up for Christmas, and teens staying out late and parading down the streets here and there in their little groups. He just wanted to be like them-happy. Wasn't that the thing that all humans had the right to have? But he wasn't human, was he? Grell had done his best to embrace himself, and though he truly loved to be how he was-to torture, main, rip, tear, and mutilate his victims...watch, taste, and feel blood for himself-it wasn't enough for him. It could never be enough. Eternity was too long.

His hands itched to get his hands on a few teens, have fun with them throughout the night although it would likely get him fired from whatever job he had left. Nevertheless, he kept his distance, allowing them to pass by as he sat down on a wet bench. At that, the redhead hissed though he stayed put, knowing the damage had been done, and he could dry out his beloved coat and pants later.

Grell followed the fob chain hanging from his pocket before pulling out his golden pocket watch and flipping it open. At the top was a small picture of his first Christmas with William, the two kissing under the mistletoe. Although it was more of an ambush on Grell's part, and William had most definately been opposed to it, he alway thought there could have been something more in between them every time he looked at the picture. Now all he saw was false hope and his own stupidity.

Letting out a deep sigh, Grell read the time-10:39-and closed the pocket watch with a SNAP! It was stuffed back into his pocket before he propped his elbow up on his knee and rested his cheek atop his fist. Knuckles dug into his cheek, letting the skin gather around it loosely as it was pushed by the force of his hand against his face.

Green eyes watched passerby and the ripples along simi-frozen puddle when an occasional breeze blew across the city. What was he even doing? Wasting time-wasn't that all he had been doing to everyone he had ever known? Wastig their time? Multiple times he had considered sparing them his presence and ridding himself of it. However, he was afraid to face the obis. What would happen then? What would death feel like for a second time? Grell hoped he would never have experience it, yet he knew better than that. All immortals would have to face it eventually. Nothing lasted forever. If it wasn't the demons and hostile Cinematic Records that got them, it would be the Thorns of Death or an illness of the mind-madness. They would all have an end someday. And his seemed right around the corner.

It was like the monster in a child's bedroom, lurking in the closet but never daring to venture out, leaving the child to wonder and fear what could possibly be there. Sometimes the child would be brave enough to figure out what it was, but most of the time it was something entirely different from what they expected. Grell was a child, waiting for his monster to come out of his closet and play...and he was too frightened to dare approach the closet.

Grell could feel sleep trying to drag his person into darkness; his body protesting the cold weather and wet seat that he was perched upon. It longed for his warm, red bed and release from the day's stress. Reluctantly, he stood with a shiver, bringing his coat to his shoulders and wrapping it around his freezing body. Part of him wanted to punish himself for his behavior today, but the other half knew it was nothing but William's fault he was even in this predicament. Whether or not to blame himself was the question that had no good answer. He was lost in a neverending forest full of spiders and webs. All he could do is get lost and stuck, helplessly letting the spiders drain him of his essence one by one...slowly and painfully. It was funny how we let ourselves go and allow others to dictate our lives. There's no say in ourselves but in those around us. We're all just pawns in the game of life, and in order to win...most of us will be sacrificed along the way. No matter how it is done, we all lose ourselves someway, and only a select few have the brains to go on...carry on through the darkest of times. Life is a swamp that comes to our knees and slowly we sink as if it were sand. However, it was only our fault we are sinking, for we were the ones who decided to wear the wrong shoes.

Once again, his boots clicked and clopped and clapped along the pavement, green eyes watching his feet as Grell made his way to his favorite portalling area.

Xxx

William stared at his paperwork sitting blank on his desk, right hand clutching his favorite black ink pen as his mind stayed blank of thoughts to write down. The only thing that could appear in his mind was that of his partner who had run away after being suspended.

There were many times Grell had been treated the way he had been treated, so why did it bother him so much? Maybe it was that look on Grell's face. It was nothing but pain and betrayal. Had suspension been a poor choice of action? No, the redhead had to be reprimanded. He had gone too long without a firmer hand, and it had been time to put Grell in his place. If the redhead had been let off, his other coworkers may get the foolish idea that he actually cared for him. No, Sutcliff was nothing more to him than an annoying subordiante that needed to be locked up in an insane asylum. Hoenstly, that man probably took crazy pills and they still did little for him. He was too mad, too out of control. Perhaps, William could put him on a leash.

All the sudden the ridicualous thought of walking Grell around like a dog came to mind.

William shook his head and frowned, blinking off the most disturbing notion from his thought process. There was no time to be distracted. Paperwork had to be done.

~But Grell~ his mind seemed to say.

"What about him?" he asked to thin air with a growl before rolling his eyes. He supposed he should apologize for the way he acted after Grell's initial response. Mayhaps, he had been holding Grell a little tighter than he had realized. That had to be the only reason rell had been bleeding. Or, Grell had been previously injured on a reaping and he had-

Wait.

Previously injured? Since when did Grell ever get injured on reapings? Grell never experienced any trouble during his dispatches unless there was a demon involved.

Instantly remembering the raven-haired crowish freakin the nineteeth century, William began to wonder: what if Grell had discovered him again or found another ma-demon like the crow?

William had to correct his thoughts, knowing full well that demons were nothing like men and could never be no matter how much they appeared to be so.

Standing, he made his way over to his filing cabinet, pulling out Grell's records from the previous four incidents that Grell had been late. As he fingered through them, he found no mention of a demon in any of hem-even for the records up to seven days before them (as every collection of paperwork was made weekly and not daily).

SO assuming that a demon had not been involved, what could possibly be making Grell stay home from work? Was it just pure laziness and neglect like his subordinate and junior, Ronald Knox? No, based on the way Grell fawned over the supervisor, he likely wouldn't want to waste a moment with him. On top of that, Sutcliff absolutely loved to show off his skills, especially during his reaps.

William shivered at the thought of the redhead constantly flirting with him all the time. Admittedly, William did not find Grell's...antics so unbearable, as long as they were kept professional and did not hinder the efficency of the Dispatch. Nevertheless, that always seemed to be the case with Grell, and he could hardly stand for it.

Then why did he not bother firing Grell when he had the chance? With the new constant additions to the Dispatch, they could do without one employee like Grell Sutcliff. Was it...fondness?

No, he couldn't possibly be fond of Sutcliff, could he? He was his subordinate and underling. There was nothing significant or even likeable about the redhead. However, if that was the case, why was he already missing Grell when he had only been gone a few hours? Why was he constantly checking the clock as if he were expecting Grell's shift to be over and see the redhead waltz through the door to give him a 'goodnight kiss'...that usually ended with the red reaper's face in the desk or William's fist?

Closing his eyes, William tried to purge his brain of the nonsense flooding it, particuarly those of Grell and all his regrets along the centuries. There were more important things to do and think about than about a certain annoying employee. Reluctantly, he closed the files, putting them away before starting to come up with new ideas and thoughts of why or how Grell could have possibly be injured. The only thing that could have possibly stayed from Grell's last shift would have been one made by his scythe. A scythe wound from his chainsaw would be obvious and would have gone striaght through his beloved coat. Also, Grell would have been defenseless and likely dead had the demon managed to steal it from Grell. Ater all, the redhead held onto it like a baby with a rattle. Well, there was Grell's secondary scythe, but it was nothing but a small, ruby handled knife. Grell would have had to roll up his sleeves and present himself to the demon or have done it himse-...

Realization struck William like a biciclist running into a brick wall at full speed. Self-inflicted...the cuts had to be self-inflicted. It explained why Grell must have been late those days...Four days where he had not been able to handle work mentally. He couldn't talk off those days because he was saving up for his Christmas vacation, so he had willingly recceived tardies by coming in the last few minutes of the day.

Grell had managed to fool everyone, even William, of his mental state. How long had Grell been suffering like this? William doubted that he made anything better for the redhead by smashing his dreams and making his life a living hell. Regret and guilt clenched his heart in a fist. That look of pain and betrayal he had seen in the redhead when he had held his wrist was an insight to a tiny part of what Grell must have been feeling. And now he had just ruined a year's worth of work, suspended Grell, and now the redhead was probably in his aparment doing who knows what...What if he had only made it worse? What if he was the straw that bent Grell's back? What if that knife that slit his wrists dug deeper...or was over his throat isntead. He could have just muredered Grell Sutcliff.

With haste, William grabbed his trench coat, throwing it over his shoudlers and slipping it on frantically. He had to reach Grell before he did anything stupid. This time he didn't have to rationalize what he was doing. He just had to do it.

That's when Elzabeth and Ronald walked into the room. "Hey, boss, can ya come down an-"

"No time, Knox. I have much more important matters to address," he muttered, buttoning up the coat with deft fingers. "Ms. Spears, I do trust you will look over the Dispatch during my short leave of absence. There has been a crisis that has come up with a particular coworker, and I am afraid I must leave to deal with it."

Elzabeth nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. Thought William had kept his emotionless facade, she could see the way his fingers fumbled with the buttons, and the panic that was hidden deep within his eyes. "I shall do my best, Mr. Spears," was her curt yet dubious reply. "I will inform Martin Riesenerg of this absence."

"Yes, indeed. Mr. Riesenberg needs to be informed immediatly. It appears that a certain coworker may be attempting on his life at the moment. There is no time to spare."

Ronald perked up with wide eyes. Who in the Dispatch would be doing such a thing? No one ever seemed to be gloomy or off-key today, or even yesterday, or any day before that give for a few with good reasons. But none seemed like they were the type to commit suicide. And why did William seem so off? Who could possibly have him so worried?

~Grell~

It seemed obvious to Ronald as he began to fill with worry and concern. "Senpai? It's Grell-senpai isn't it?" he asked softly, biting his bottom lip.

Grell? It would certainly make sense for Mr. Spears to seem so worried to Elzabeth. She knew this day would eventually come, but for it to happen so soon? With Hollis in the hospital at the moment, and Rachel missing, the Dispatch seemed to be loosing one agent after another. Elzabeth knew how William was likely feeling. It was so obvious he cared deeply for the redhead, and it was no surprise he was in this state at all-no matter how unlike him it was.

William, however, did not answer as he made a portal on his wall, deciding against speaking to the their inquiries. "Just do as ordered, Knox...Spears..." He nodded to them each as he mentioned their names before stepping through and leaving the two younger Shinigami alone in his office.

Ronald turned to Elzabeth with a saddened expression. "It can't be Grell-senpai, right..."

"I have no doubt in my mind that it is, Ronald. Although, right now, there is nothing we can do to assist in the situation..." she answered with a sigh, adjusting her glasses. "The right thing to do now is inform Mr. Riesenberg of Mr. Spears' whereabouts."

"Marty? He isn't here. Saw him sneaking out just after my lunch break." Ronald pointed toward the door with his thumb, his other hand in his pocket.

Elzabeth scowled, an annoyed countenance stamping her face. "And you didn't think to mention that before he left?"

"Umm..."

"Who is going to run the Division if neither of them are here?"Elzabeth raised a skeptical eyebrow as she crossed her arms.

"Ummm..." Ronald gave a sheepsih grin, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he blushed and looked away.

Elzabeth sighed, "Ronald..."

"Yeah?"

"You're an idiot."

XXX

Yay~! Another chapter. This one was kinda hard for me to write as I've been having severe writer's block for some time now...about since Christmas. Maybe because I was being spoiled with so many gifts. As you may have noticed, some 5,000 words have miraculously diappeared from my story. Over the past mont or so, my editor, PrimeLaughter, has actually been editing my stories. I've been reposting the chapters up until Cchapter five. Unfortunately, i never send her the author's note, and with the resposts...I've been forgetting to re-add the author's notes. So yes, a lot of my words for the beginning of this story are actually part of these notes. Why do I write notes so long? Because I love talking to you guys, my fans! That's why! Get over it! I love you, so what is there to complain about?!

Anyway, because of this, I will not be reposting them again, as those author's notes are written after I have written the chapters. So, they won't hold the same meaning, and I could never possibly remember what I wanted to tell you about these anyway. Yeah, so my grammar in the Author's Note stinks? Oh well, this is how I talk. I have a typing speed of over 180 WPM, so usually I just type as fast as I think, and this is what pops out.

Now, I'm back, and I hope I won't be gone long again. Theme song for this chapter?Don't really want to go through my playlist to find one. I just didn't listen to a song while writing this. Maybe that's why I don't liek this chapter as much as the others...I really just...feel like this chapter stinks...like...badly. Okay, no more rambling. Cha~...(yeah...I said cha instead of chow. Get over that too).