Hey guys! For my first real, serious fanfic, I was so happy to see that people liked it! So thank you to all of my reviewers! This chapter is for you guys! I'm going to be a bit of a slow uploader, maybe once every week or couple of weeks—this is my senior year and I have a crazy workload on top of college applications. But, I will upload! Any comments, constructive criticism, and ideas would be great! I didn't really know how to end this chapter, but here it is!

I do not own Kuroshitsuji, that's Square Enix and Yana Toboso.

The first thing to reach Grell's ears was the murmuring; incessant, grumbling, and hideously obnoxious to his woozy and light-headed mind. Like a mosquito or an inescapable lecture, it bored into him, drawing a low groan from his lips. He faintly heard his name being mentioned amidst the low conversation, but he couldn't draw any meaning from the other garbled words, nor could he discern the general topic of speech.

His head pounded fiercely, all memories from the night before jaded and fogged by half-consciousness. All he knew for a fact was that he felt like shit, and a whole lot of it. On top of that, the shit must have been made of lead, as he could scarcely make his eye-lid twitch, let alone move at all. Due to this fact, Grell surmised that he had probably gone drinking with Ronald, Eric, and the rest of the boys (William and Alan excluded, seeing as William never let loose in his presence, if at all, and Alan's health was notoriously frail). This, obviously, had lead to a huge hang-over, probably a few dozen bruises from falling on his face due to intoxication, a lot of humiliation, and possibly being in a public place after passing out—again. All of that would certainly explain the murmuring and the throbbing pain he was feeling…

"Mr. Sutcliff? Are you awake?"

Grell would have smiled to himself if he weren't too tired to do so. Finally, a bit of speech that made sense to his ears… And while he was most certainly awake mentally, he couldn't force himself to respond to the question.

"Mr. Sutcliff."

Now that he could actually understand, he decided he wished he couldn't again. It just made his brain hurt worse. And moreover…

"Mr. Sutcliff, if you can answer, please do."

Moreover…

" Miss. I'm not a mister."

His voice sounded wrong in his ears… too unused, low and scratchy. It wouldn't rise in pitch like he liked it to, and couldn't pull off any sort of flirtatious tone. It just sounded tired and masculine, not at all what he wanted to hear coming from his lips. In response, the voice calmly, if not a bit exasperatedly, amended its statement.

"Miss Sutcliff then. Good. You're awake."

Grell certainly wouldn't describe his state as "awake". Rather, he would describe it as being mildly conscious and stuck in warm but rocky tar—in which the jagged rocks were sticking into various places in his body and would not bloody leave him be. It was not a pleasant state, per say, but it could have been a lot worse. Like… he could have been entirely conscious and have spears sticking through him. That would be worse… However, that was hardly the point.

"Mm."

He honestly could give no better response than that, his thoughts a little too disjointed and his knowledge of the situation a bit too lacking. All he wanted to know was where he was at the moment and whether or not he had gotten himself drunk or something else happened… The first task in figuring that out, however, was difficult: opening his eyes. Each lid felt like it weighed an elephant's worth and was stuck in a closed position with rubber-glue, after all. Not being able to do such a task was aggravating, normally being such a simple, normal thing to do… After what felt like an eternity, which in reality was only a few seconds, and what felt like all his strength, which in reality was not THAT much effort, he finally did indeed make his eyes flutter open. His vision was blurred and annoyingly unfocused, everything in his visual range not much more than a shadow of color. A slate of bright white hovered above him, featureless and felt-like in quality. Multicolored forms drifted by his sides, most black and gray with tinges of what might be hair colors or discerning features.

After a few blinks, this fuzziness cleared to something a little less blurred, but no more comprehensible. The slate of white turned into a tiled white ceiling. The shadows on his sides turned to blurred images of people, clothed in suits or nurse uniforms, not a one someone he could indentify. However, he could place a body to a voice now: the person who had been talking to him before—a man who hovered over him, clad in a doctor's regalia but with a blurry face and the sheen of glasses. After a few more blinks, he gave up on seeing more clearly, his glasses gone from his face and thus his eyesight mildly impaired. However, he was able to draw one conclusion. He was in the dispatch infirmary. Why, he did not know. It probably had something to do with his aching, but oddly numb body…

"Mr. Knox, Mr. Sutcliff is awake."

Grell blinked slowly, only barely comprehending the doctor's voice. Knox… Ronnie? Why would Ronald be in the infirmary? Hopefully he was alright… then again, if Ronald was being called because Grell himself was awake… Ronald was probably there because he was worried… or something. He probably wasn't hurt… that would be silly.

"Sutcliff-sempai?"

The red-haired reaper blinked again, trying to discern the second humanoid figure above him. Dressed in a suit, large glasses frames… two colored hair… yes, it was Ronald. Couldn't be anyone else. Besides… no one else called him such a respectful name… even if the voice was uncharacteristically broken.

"Ronnie…?"

Despite the fact that it could be no one else, he had to make sure. It would be stupid of him to spout off any sort of ridiculousness to someone he wasn't close to.

"Yeah, it's me."

Grell gave a shallow sigh of relief. Someone he knew… that was good. That was always good. That meant someone was around that he could trust. But… then again… when he was in the infirmary, it was always William that was hovering over him, there to scold him for being stupid or not being attentive enough… Why was Ronald there, and not his overbearing, but oh so sexy, boss? It was a bit confusing… but for the time being, he was content with having his underling by his side.

"Ronnie, could you get me my glasses, I can't see…"

He requested, disoriented and wanting to better study what was going on. While he wasn't near blind like William, details did escape him with his glasses gone, and it was more than irritating and not helpful with his wish to better understand.

"Yeah, 'course, sempai. They were pretty smashed up, but Oya-san cleaned them up good as new."

That didn't make sense… why were his glasses broken in the first place? He couldn't have fallen that badly, could he? Then again, he wasn't sure if he fell or what happened… His thoughts were interrupted by Ronald's face coming into view, a side effect of his glasses being placed back on his face. The younger shinigami's brow was furrowed and his usually smiling, or pouting, lips were twisted in a concerned grimace. His gold and green eyes, just like Grell's own, lacked their usual twinkle, irises darkened and edges reddened by what his superior could only surmise were tears.

"There you go, Sempai…"

Ronald seemed to strain to make himself smile, lips tugging upward but nothing else in his visage showing happiness. The entire anomaly was confusing to the priorly unconscious reaper… what could have happened to make the peppy Ronald Knox look like he had been dumped… or worse…? It couldn't be the condition that Grell had found himself in… he had been beaten badly or passed out from drinking plenty of times… So what could it have been?

"Ronnie… what happened? Why am I in the infirmary…?"

There was a pause, Ronald fidgeting and looking away. He was reluctant to answer, obviously… though why, Grell could not figure out.

"Ronald, answer me."

Grell willed his voice to be stronger, to be more… him like. However, it came out similarly to before, painfully masculine and weak. However, it did have his desired effect, the younger Shinigami cringing a bit and giving him an apprehensive, but fearful face. He continued to tiredly glare, trying to force words out of Ronald, trying to figure out what the hell was going on… however, his efforts worked counterproductively, bringing tears to his kouhai's eyes, the blond rubbing his eyes and sniffling like a little child.

"E-eh? Ronnie, don't cry…"

Ronald continued to cry however, shaking his head as if denying he was crying at all.

"S-Sempai… I t-thought… It was just so…"

Grell could only stare at him dumbfounded, not understanding. The memories of the night previous were so fuzzy… Had something happened? Ronald crying… his glasses broken…

"I thought you were dead… I thought you both were… I'm so glad you're alive…"

Both?

So he wasn't the only one hurt. Two dispatch officers down. William would be…

William…

The memories rushed back to him all in that second. The blood, the desperation… pumping adrenaline pounding on his mind, the rancid smell of demon carcasses… a sweep of a chainsaw and the feeling of cutting… He had been on a routine mission. A soul collection. Some broad named Lenore… Lenore Jenkins if he recalled, which he now did with terrifying clarity. He hadn't been expecting it, not in the least. In fact, he hadn't even been thinking about the collection or his surroundings. His thoughts had been turned to the beautiful red gown he had seen in a store window and how they would match his new shoes in such a lovely manner… and then they had turned to imagining dancing with Sebastian or William in the gown. He had promptly turned red and giggled girlishly. Then all hell, no pun intended, broke loose.

A block was all he had to go until he had reached his destination, however a group of demons had another plan. He hadn't a clue where they had come from or why they had attacked, but they did, and he just barely missed being disemboweled from the get-go. The situation went downhill from there… and…

William…!

He remembered it, though not entirely clearly, as his glasses had been shattered and the rush of battle coupled with blood loss had addled his senses. A shadow had rushed by the corner of his vision. He had assumed it was an attacking demon, despite the previous call of his name in a voice he was so fond of… and he had turned and reacted to protect himself. His mind had cleared then, shock overtaking him. Crimson had painted William's pale as death skin, a sickeningly deep gash leaving his throat and face bared and…

While normally such a sight gave the red reaper a rush of sadistic joy, his stomach turned at the memory, churning and making him ill... He had been so mangled… just by that one… Grell found himself unable to see clearly again, his eyes stinging. Nothing had ever been more disgusting… that red… did not suit William at all... at all…!

"Ronald, y-you said… both… You…"

Grell could not form a coherent sentence, spluttering as he desperately tried to ask his question. Obviously William had been injured… he had been there to see it… he had been the one to… The thought made him tremble fiercely, horrified and terrified of himself and what had happened. Ronald seemed to understand what he wanted to know, however, and spoke in a shaky child-like voice.

"W-William-sempai's a-alive t-too… for n-now… They said h-he wouldn't survive the night… b-but…"

A small sense of relief washed over him. William wasn't dead. Not yet. Who had he been kidding… William was too strong to die from such a stupid accident like that. Of course he survived the night. Of course he would keep living. He'd heal right up… He'd be mad at Grell, hit him, give him overtime… and that would be that… But… then again it had been his scythe that had done the deed…

"They've been in surgery on and off… I-If he can survive the surgery… and keep living for a little w-while… they s-said he s-should be able t-to recover and keep w-working…That would be great… right? They said y-you're mostly fine… A few broken bones… internal damage… cuts and bruises… a-arm's dislocated… b-but you should be out in a few days, good as n-new… Well… maybe doing office work f-for a bit. A-a few of your bones were pretty much shattered… even for a s-shinigami, that's not gonna heal up t-that quick…"

Grell shuttered a sigh, resting his eyes for a moment out of exasperation. No field work for a while, huh? How boring would that be, stuck endlessly in the monotonous office all day filling out file after file and never once lifting a hand to cut a record or attempt to touch his precious Sebas-chan. The notion was upsetting. The thought of the demon, however, was not. That was enough to make him blush like a schoolgirl. Low, suave voice, hair like a soft midnight, body of an Adonis, glowing crimson…

He froze, eyes opening abruptly. Red eyes… just like… the memory of the previous night flashed back to him like a nightmare, a jolt of terror shooting through his veins. If only it had been just a nightmare—a night terror. Those happened once in a while, after all. A cup of tea and a few chapters of one of his favorite novels usually cured those. Or even better, when he fell asleep at work and William woke him up with a swift hit on the head and a roundabout reassurance. A "a proper reaper shouldn't be frightened by such trivial things" after scolding him for sleeping like a uptight grammar school teacher or a simple awkward pat on the shoulder and telling him to get back to work. It was almost worth the fright, sometimes.

"Sempai, you okay?"

Ronald broke Grell from his half-thought half-fear musings. For once, the interruption was entirely appreciated.

"Yeah, yeah, just fine, Ronnie, no worries."

A weak giggle tore from his lips, girlish enough to satisfy and still not strain. Ronald, however, did not seem convinced by Grell's forced, feminine mirth. Rather the opposite. His concern grew, the smallest of pout-like scowls twisting his lips. The elder reaper's laughter slowly died down, becoming not much more than small nervous sounds that that were barely recognizable as chuckles. He should have known that he couldn't fleece Ronald in such a manner. For all of the blonde's bubbly attitude and childish, if not slightly twisted, personality, he was a sharp boy. Ten times… maybe a hundred times more observant than William and pretty much able to see through any person he came across, save a few. Maybe that's how he was able to function so easily in their office and with the ladies… he never had any problem with interpretation… None the less it was clear Ronald was not going to believe a word.

There was a short period of awkward silence in which not a word was exchanged between the coworkers. Grell fiddled, trying to figure out which parts of his body worked and which ones were in disarray. Ronald sat down with a quiet "fwump" in the chair by the hospital bed and watched his sempai carefully. This carried on for what seemed to be an eternity before either of them spoke up again, Ronald very gravely continuing on with his earlier explanation.

"…The wound on Boss was pretty bad, you know. They called it fatal."

Grell fixed him with a look that obviously meant he did not understand, his head tilted to the side and lips pursed.

"Wouldn't be surprised either… seeing as that monster of a death scythe…"

Ronald trailed off, looking to the floor and closing his eyes. He didn't even notice the barely given glare that was sent in his direction.

"He could… he could die, you know…"

There was silence again, the tension now thick enough to cut with a knife. Grell's confused and irritated look intensified, eyes narrowing dangerously and jaw clenching. What was Ronald saying—"he could die". That wasn't possible. They were shinigami. They couldn't just "die". Besides, William has proven himself pretty invincible before. There was no way his boss—

Very suddenly, the quiet was broken, broken little sounds issuing from Grell's throat. They were tiny and jerking, somewhere between the beginnings of a sneeze and a cough—a sound that wasn't exactly common day. It was enough to make Ronald jump, absolutely startled by the unidentifiable noises. The blonde was about to say something about it, opening his mouth and in the process of forming words when the sounds intensified and became more recognizable. Grell was laughing. Weakly, hoarsely, but laughing all the same, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips turned upwards in one of his normal, if not absolutely manic, grins.

"Sem…pai…?"

Ronald leaned back in his chair a little, as if making an effort to get away. There was something wrong with that laugh… it was so out of place and jittery, yet obviously entirely genuine…

"Ronnie, Ronnie… Will's not going to die~! That can't happen!"

Grell's voice was forcefully high again, though more out of a sort of hysteria than from any attempts to be feminine. Worry and frustration wrote itself across Ronald's face, reddened green eyes narrowing.

"Sutcliff-sempai, you were there…! You saw how bad the injury was—You made the cut!"

He nearly shouted, hands balling into fists at his sides. He could only pretend not to see the dumbfounded expression Grell gave. Everything was going so wrong… the boss was injured and Grell was denying that something could go horribly and they could lose a reaper—and after the last two…

The red-head blinked his eyes in surprise, blazingly bright like contained acid. The look had changed from before… they had been dull with slumber and confusion earlier… now…

"Silly, Ronnie. We're immortal, we don't die. Will won't die either, not from something stupid like that."

The statement was punctuated with a mad little giggle, eyes closing again and one previously limp arm draping over his forehead.

"We don't die…"