A/N: First of all, trigger warning! This chapter contains suicide and alludes to physical and sexual abuse. This is a Grelliam chapter but we'll return to SebaCiel next time. If you don't want to read dark material, I totally understand. However this was originally intended to evolve into a darker story.

The carriage ride back to Grell's flat was even more silent than usual. William was mulling over the evening's events, reliving what he had seen. He had not been drinking at the gala or he would have thought he imagined the black feathers drifting around Sebastian in a hazy greenish blue light. Crimson eyes were burned into his memory and he had to consider, for the first time, that he had made a mistake with his placement of a child.

They stopped outside the old building and William watched despondently as Grell got out of the carriage. He turned to look at William, hand on the door. "What happened back there?"

"It's no matter." His voice wasn't as strong as he would have liked.

Grell rolled his eyes and slammed the door. Even by William's standards for behavior, he knew he had spent the latter half of the evening neglecting his "date." Grell had done him a favor of sorts by accompanying him but after what took place with the family butler, William had spent the night in stricken silence. He stared down at his hands. He was a man of logic and what he had seen could not be explained by it.

He was about to rap against the roof of the carriage when the door came open again. Grell stood there with a defeated, almost pitying look. "Do you want to come up?"

He could hardly believe it when he sent the carriage on its way and followed Grell upstairs. It was a short walk back to the orphanage if nothing else. Grell's skirts flowed behind him as he ascended to his flat, but William's legs were moving on autopilot. He sat heavily on the sofa when he got inside. In their years of knowing each other, he had never been to Grell's residence. It was a cramped space that showed the struggle of being born a commoner, but there were splashes of color that made it distinctly Grell's own.

A mug of cocoa was placed in his hands and then Grell vanished to the washroom. When he returned, half the cocoa was gone. He settled onto the opposite end of the sofa from William, the makeup washed from his face, his clothes plain and hair down. William averted his gaze back to his mug. Even in his state of distress, he couldn't help but notice how lovely Grell was when all that nonsense wasn't caked onto him.

"Why are you extending this kindness to me?"

Grell yawned and looked over at him. "Why not? I was a butler before I came to work at the orphanage, I know the value of small gestures."

"I'm horrible to you."

"It's never seemed to bother you before." Grell examined his nails and added, "But then, you've never needed me before, have you?"

I don't need you now, you offered, came to William's lips, but he swallowed the words in favor of silence. He knew Grell meant no harm with the words and for once he was grateful for the man's company. Grell's fierce nature and tenacity lifted his spirits, reminded him to buck up. Usually it was an irritation but tonight was no ordinary night. He sat his empty mug down on the bare wooden floor. Grell was staring behind them out the window, feet tucked under him on the sofa.

"Why were you a butler? We graduated at the top of our class."

"I just couldn't find work. I went back to school for a spell then kind of drifted until I came to the orphanage, and imagine my surprise when you greet me. I thought for sure I wouldn't get the job."

"We had a history but I knew you were skilled, and more importantly, you cared. In our line of work, you need to have some degree of passion for your work, it allows you to perform more effectively."

Grell tore his gaze from the window to peer at him over the top of his red spectacles. "Why did you go into this line of work? You don't care about anyone." The words were not pointed, simply a fact.

William met his imploring stare. He didn't talk about his past with anyone, let alone someone he had such great disdain for, but their chatter was taking his mind off the night's events and it helped him avoid explaining why he had been shaken. He didn't think he could bear for Grell, the biggest loon he'd ever met, to think he was crazy.

"My parents gave me up at birth. I grew up in the system."

Grell dropped his eyes, looking ashamed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive."

"It's fine. That part of my life no longer bothers me. I do not express my emotions well, so all of my foster families returned me to the work house. I had a rough go of it so when I began to work and go to school, I decided to make a change."

"Ambitious."

William's eyes began to feel heavy. He leaned his head back. Stress could be exhausting, it would seem. Grell was talking about something but rather than hearing his words, William noticed that his harsh voice was quite nice when he wasn't shrieking and carrying on. It was melodious and started to sound less like words than a lullaby in tandem with the rain that had started to fall. He didn't know when his eyes had fallen shut, but he fell asleep fully dressed and in a peculiar state of peace, surrounded by the aroma of cherries and roses.

))))((((

"Will," said a soft voice accompanied by an even softer touch.

He opened his eyes to find a hand on his cheek, and bespectacled emerald eyes swam into view. Grell was sleepy and disheveled looking. His glasses were askew on his nose, and his layered hair stood up in even more directions than usual. Will looked around in momentary confusion. The first thing that came to mind was red eyes and slitted pupils, but then he recalled the rest of the night, and realized he was in Grell's flat.

His suit jacket and bowtie were folded neatly on top of his shoes in the neighboring armchair. At least he didn't remove anything else in my sleep, he thought, rising to his feet.

"I'm going to work," he said as he put his shoes on.

Grell yawned. "That's nice."

"Don't you have...no, nevermind, you don't work today." William scratched the back of his neck and looked around the room as if someone would magically appear to make him less uncomfortable. Alas, he did not believe in magic. He conceded to mumbling his thanks and taking his leave. He thought he heard Grell snoring when he closed the door.

As he walked the three blocks to the orphanage, he noticed an ache in his neck from the way he'd slept, but somehow he felt more well rested than he had in a long time. He tried not to ponder the reason for that. Grell was the primary source for his migraines, he would be hard pressed to believe that man's company had aided him in any way.

"Mr. Spears!"

He had just reached the front of the building when the elderly nurse came barreling down the stairs with tears running down her face. He noticed with alarm that there was blood on her hands.

"Larieta?" he said, hoping to calm her with her first name instead of just calling her nurse as he usually did.

She wiped at her tears, then began heaving with sobs as the attempt smeared blood onto her face. "I-I must fetch Doctor Sutcliff. It's Alois...he's not breathing, Mr. Spears!"

He ran past her into the building. The world blurred until he was in the infirmary. The other nurse stood over a small boy with blond hair, whose wrist was dripping blood onto the floor. William tore his jacket off and began cutting it up with shears. They had already used the infirmary's supply of bandages, which lay in a bloody heap on the floor. He wrapped Alois' wrist and applied as much pressure as he had the strength for. His knowledge of first aid was basic but he knew when there was this much blood than Alois could not travel.

Alois was one of his hardest cases. They had taken him from his father's home not long ago, where he had endured every form of abuse in the book, down to the most revolting one could imagine. William ground his teeth together against a cry of anger. In two years he had never lost a child, he wasn't going to start with this one.

Other children lurked outside the infirmary trying to see what was happening. An older boy who everyone called Joker was trembling, and judging from the blood on him, he had been the one to find Alois. The seventeen year-old nicknamed Beast had come up to his elbow and clapped her hand over her mouth when she saw the state of the infirmary. Alois was blocked from view but the blood was not.

"Move, Will," said a firm, beautifully familiar voice.

He stepped to the side as Grell rushed past him, rolling up his sleeves. He was wearing trousers and a nightshirt with his hair twisted up and pinned haphazardly to the back of his head. His appearance was a mess but he possessed a focus that William only saw when he was working. He had no idea how Grell had learned so much after graduation but he was the facility's physician and a damn good one.

"Can I do-"

Grell didn't look up from examining the wounds. "Out."

The infirmary was the only place in which William would accept an order from Grell, and he obliged silently. He joined his children outside feeling cold down to his very soul. Grell's fingers were pressed to the side of Alois' neck. They stayed there for what seemed like a long time. Then they slipped away and Grell ceased his efforts to close the wounds, to do anything at all. He swayed on the spot and then hit his knees in the pool of blood. His back was to the door, but William could see his shoulders shaking, and knew the worst had happened.

There were cries of disbelief from the children around him, and even as he ordered them back to their rooms, he heard his own sounds of anguish join them. When the hall was clear he returned to the infirmary. Grell had covered the small body with a sheet and tears fell steadily but silently down his cheeks. They both stared down at the child.

"I failed him," William choked out, holding back tears of his own.

"Will..." Grell couldn't seem to find words of comfort, for there were no words that could ease the pain of this loss. He just turned to the tall brunette with his hands extended, as though in them would appear an explanation for why God had claimed the life of the tormented child in their care. No such thing appeared, and Grell began to shake with sobs again. "Will..."

William grasped his hands and pulled him into his arms. Grell collapsed against him and wrapped his arms around Will's waist, cursing the world for all it was worth for this injustice. The smell of cherries had been replaced on him by the unforgiving scent of antiseptic and blood. William stroked his hair and finally let his own tears fall.