This chapter was incredibly hard to write, so please excuse the delay. Also, please note there is a discussion of suicide. I debated quite a bit about that section. It was needed for the story, but I also wanted to handle the subject in a tasteful manner. As such, I did describe the setup but gave no details of the actual act.

Chapter 2:

It was a single red rose lying on her desk that greeted her a few days later, and she couldn't deny that she was more than a little surprised. In her many years as a reaper, she had only been greeted by a present on her desk once, and that had been a small thank-you gift from Ronald after he had been approved to work full time. In truth, she wasn't used to gifts, nor had she dreamed she really hear from Michael again. The brutal honesty of their conversation had been so refreshing, and it was almost alien to her to think that someone might actually care. She had already decided to simply cherish the memory of their date; to fold it up in her heart and hold to it when she felt particularly alone or sad.

But now, there was a rose.

Trying not to giggle excitedly, she picked up the rose and found it was simply perfection. Not a single one of the scarlet petals had browned or appeared torn, and the fragrance was one of nature's finest. As she marveled at the epitome of all roses, she picked up the card and read the few words that had been scribbled by a confident hand.

"I'll meet you at your place at nine tonight. Dress in your most elegant and prepare for an evening to remember."

-M

"Someone looks like they're in a good mood this morning," Ronald said as he walked up behind her.

"Someone has a very good reason to be," she replied, as she handed the card towards Ronald as she toyed with the rose stem.

He read quickly and then let out a low whistle. "Wow!" he said, "No wonder you're so happy. So, who's this M? Anyone I know?"

"I don't think so," she replied slyly before started for the break room. She needed to get her rose in some water so that it wouldn't wilt during the day.

"It wouldn't be that one guy from Upper Management, would it?" asked Ronald.

Grell turned to him in surprise. "How did you guess?" she asked.

Ronald shrugged as an easy smile appeared on his youthful face. "I saw that guy talking to you at the party," he said, "and it wasn't hard to tell he was interested. So, tell me about him."

She motioned for Ronald to keep his voice down as they stepped into the break room, which was thankfully empty at the moment. "His name is Michael," she explained as she leaned against the wall and held the rose close to her heart, "and he's the sweetest man I've ever met. Oh, Ronnie, he understands me! We had a really deep conversation, and he actually wants to see me again." She looked down at the rose and ghosted her fingers over those pristine petals. "I was about to think I'd never find someone," she admitted.

Ronald smiled gently. "I knew you would," he said, "but why all the secrecy? I haven't seen this guy around here since the party, and this is the first time I've even heard his name."

She walked over and retrieved a cup which she filled with water. Carefully, she place the rose inside before turning towards back towards the younger reaper. "Upper Management isn't really supposed to be in a relationship with any of the lower employees," she explained, "So we're trying to keep it quiet. Besides, we had only really gone out on that one date, but it looks like I need to be ready for something extra special tonight."

There was a strange expression on Ronald's face that she couldn't quite understand, but then he managed another smile as he ran a hand through his bi-colored hair. "Be careful," he said.

She sniffed playfully. "When am I not careful?" she asked.

((x))

The knock came at her door a few minutes early, and Grell's trembling hands almost dropped the perfume she had been holding. "Just a minute," she called, trying to put every ounce of her false confidence into her voice to hide its tremor. Carefully, she dabbed just a bit of perfume behind her ears before hurrying to her front door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to be greeted by Michael's smiling face, but then his jaw seemed to drop as he looked at her.

She had always taken the time to make her appearance as pleasing as possible, but she had put in a lot of extra effort on this evening, and it appeared that Michael had taken notice. Her dress was beautiful and elegant, although it wasn't overly fancy. It was red, which was expected, but a black lace skimmed the top just beneath her collarbone and along the top of her bare shoulders. The waist was cinched, and the same lace had been gathered to create the illusion of ebony roses growing down along the sides of the skirt until fading into the lacy trim, which matched her black, lace gloves. Her hair had taken the most time. She had loosely curled it and piled most of it high upon her head, but allowed several ringlets to cascade down her back. A red, silk rose had been interwove with the curls on the right side near the temple, and her carefully applied makeup was designed to complement the overall look. She knew that she had put forth a lot of effort, and she did look her best, but she was scared that it still wasn't enough.

"Do I look okay?" she asked.

"No."

"No?" she repeated, taking a step back as tears threatened to form in her eyes anger starting to coil in her stomach like an enraged viper.

He smiled gently and placed his hand on her cheek. "You don't look okay," he clarified, "You look stunning. Breathtaking. I wish you would have warned me, because I can be a very jealous man, my dear red rose, and I know that no man will be able to keep his eyes off of you tonight."

She could barely breathe as she listened to his words, and she stared into his eyes to make sure he was sincere. Tears still threatened to fall, but now these were tears of overwhelming happiness. He was looking at her, truly looking at her, but there was only loving acceptance. "So," she began, trying to recover from all of the emotions roaring inside her heart, "Where are we going?"

"Oh, that's a surprise," he replied lightly, "In fact, I think there's a lot of surprises in store for you." He held out his arm for her. "Shall we go?"

She took the offered arm without fear or hesitation. "Absolutely."

((x))

Grell was more than a little surprised when Michael's portal led them straight to Paris. As a field agent, Grell could only create portals to the parts of the human realm within her assigned area. If she wanted to travel outside of that area, she would have to use human transportation or the power of her own feet. In fact, she couldn't clearly remember the last time she had been in Paris, and she doubted she had ever been with anyone as wonderful as Michael.

The night was full of surprises, but all were pleasant and memorable. First, they went to a beautiful restaurant, where Michael ordered confidently for both of them just as he had before. During their meal, their conversation was both light and lively as they avoided the darker subjects they had discussed during the first date. Like Grell, he had a natural talent for telling stories with flare, and she enjoyed every moment of listening to him, but he also took the time to listen to her. Never did she feel the need to tone down or minimalize her vivacious personality. Michael could handle it.

After eating, they went dancing. Grell wasn't paying attention to the song or the music for her eyes were locked on Michael, but she couldn't help but notice that everyone was looking at them. She knew they were beautiful together, and pride swelled up inside her. There had always been some seed of doubt about what people saw when they looked her way, but now she could feel that these people just though that Michael and her were too beautiful people that were falling in love. It was the kind of story that would be whispered by these people the next morning as everyone looked around for the elegant couple who had danced the night away. It was beyond perfect.

It was late when they finally decided to leave. Grell was tired, but she was reluctant to go back to her house. This night had been so magical, but she had already made the decision that she was going to make this moment last just a bit longer.

((x))

"I had a wonderful time tonight," Michael said, as he walked her to her door, "I don't think I could have even imagined a more spectacular evening."

Grell nervously chewed her lip, although she tried to speak with confidence. "It doesn't have to end just yet," she offered, "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?"

He smiled and nodded. "That sounds nice," he said.

Opening her door, they both walked inside, and Grell couldn't help but wonder if he could hear her heart as it was beating so loudly in her chest. Once inside, she shut the door and motioned to the couch for him to sit as she made her way into the kitchen. "I don't know when I've last danced so much," she stated as she prepared the coffee, "My feet will probably be aching tomorrow, but it was worth it, darling."

He laughed. "You'll just remember me with each step you take," he said.

She couldn't help but giggle at that response. "Oh, you!" she exclaimed before walking back into the living room and handing him a mug. She was still nervous as she sat down at the other end of the couch and looked at him. "Still, I don't want to be limping tomorrow when I go into the office."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," he replied mysteriously, "You might find things are a bit different tomorrow."

"What do you mean, dear?"

He smiled cryptically. "Nothing, or maybe it's just a surprise. You'll have to wait and see."

She slapped his arm playfully. "You and your surprises," she said, "I don't suppose there's anything I can do but to wait."

"Not a thing," he agreed.

She shook her head, but a more somber expression took possession of her features. "Do you remember me saying that I don't remember much about my life?" she asked suddenly. A part of her worried that this change in subject might be upsetting, but if she wanted to tell him the truth, she had to do so while she still had the courage.

He nodded. "Yes. You thought it might mean you're life wasn't all that memorable."

"Well," she began hesitantly, "I'd like to tell you what I do remember. I've never really told this to anyone before, and it's not particularly pleasant. Of course, when is suicide ever a happy matter?" She sighed loudly and looked over at the black, cold fireplace. Although she had been warm only minutes earlier, a chill ran through her body, and she briefly thought of building a fire. Of course, she knew she was just stalling.

"I don't remember my family or any friends," she finally said, "I do know I had a decent apartment even though I didn't work regularly, so either someone supported me or I had other funds, but I'm not sure where this money originated. What I remember was being very alone and…invisible somehow. I would walk through the streets, and it was like I was nothing but a shadow. No one ever saw me. No one even looked at me, and I could never speak up. I was terribly shy and scared all the time."

"It's hard to imagine you as shy," Michael offered.

"But I was," she stated, glancing back at him, "I was the same person on the inside as I am now, but it's like I didn't have a voice. I wanted to stand up and make myself seen, but I never had the courage. I just wandered through each day like a forgotten shadow." Pausing, she turned back to stare at the blackness of the empty fireplace as the scarce memories flickered across her mind.

"I did love the stage," she continued, "and I thought that acting might be the answer. If I was playing someone else, I wouldn't have to be afraid. I could finally give a voice to that scared girl trapped in the mousey, plain exterior. I was able to join a theatre group, but even they were hesitant to allow me on stage. I just couldn't get them to see the real me enough to even audition. One of the leaders did take pity on me, however, and let me work with the props and costumes. I was even given a key, so I would often go there late at night to get everything in order."

No longer able to take the chill that seemed to permeate her apartment like a foul odor, she got up and started a fire. Michael sat quietly and watched as the flames began to flicker and dance, but Grell didn't return to her seat. Even sitting directly in front of the fire, her story was leaving her cold and vulnerable, but she saw little choice but to continue even if she did plan to edit some of the more traumatic parts. "I started dressing up when no one was around," she said, "and it was fun. I didn't have to be shy, little Grell Sutcliff. I could be these beautiful, confident women that captured men's hearts like trophies. After some time, I began to sneak out at night in these costumes to play the part. It was nice to get attention, but, even then, I knew it was fleeting. It wasn't long before some discovered my…secrets, and they weren't happy. Even the theatre group wanted nothing to do with me when it was all discovered and demanded I hand in my keys."

Another pause followed as the memories assaulted her. She had barely even admitted the truth to herself in the past, but hearing the cold, simple words fall from her lips made it all real once more. Her own voice grew faint in her ears as she quietly finished her story.

((x))

The building was silent as a tomb, which was fitting, as Grell slipped silently inside. She carried no candle or lamp as the layout was so familiar to her, and she made her way around the costumes with only the light of full moon streaming through a few high windows. This was her true home, but they were trying to force her to leave. It wasn't fair. They called her a freak and hurt her in every way possible, but she was treated as if she was the one who had done wrong. She had made no mistake. She wasn't a mistake.

Finally, she lit a candle and slipped into the back where she knew that the dress would be located. Like her, this dress was often overlooked as it wasn't perfect, but she still found it beautiful. It was red velvet with a beautiful gold trim around the collar, sleeves, and base of the full skirt. The waist was high, but it never hung quite right on the actress for whom it had been intended. It fit beautifully on her however, and she quickly shed her dreary clothes and slipped it over her head.

With the dress in place, she retrieved a vibrant, red wig before making her way to the mirrors. Her own hair was a dreadful shade of brown and hung too limply and lifeless. It was easy to twist and pin to her head before putting on the wig. Red did suit her so much better and even her dull green eyes seemed to shimmer. Smiling at the blossoming reflection, she carefully applied makeup until the woman she always knew was hidden on the inside came into view.

"There you are, darling," she said as she blew her reflection a kiss. Seeing her actions, she couldn't help but giggle, and something almost resembling an actual smile graced her face despite the pain that shown in her eyes.

Now that she was prepared, she gathered some old, fake roses that were stored in a dusty box. The flowers had faded over the years, and she had no idea when they had last been used, but it served her current purpose well. Carefully, she carried them to center stage where she arranged them to create a false bed for her to lie upon. While far from comfortable, it would no doubt create a beautiful image.

Her note, her final note to the world, had already been written and she carefully arranged it close to the faux roses. She had struggled for hours for those simple words, but she was satisfied with the results.

"Behold the crimson rose whose true beauty remained unseen by the world until she cut and cast to the ground. Let the tragedy never be forgotten the way that she was in this, the cruelest of lies, called life."

Everything was in place except for, the star of this one person show. Her body was trembling as she lowered herself to lie upon the roses and produce the knife which she had hidden in a small purse.

((x))

"And that's what I remember," Grell concluded, staring down at her wrists as if she could see the marks and the blood that had once stained her pale skin.

Michael didn't speak as he stood over and walked to her. Kneeling, he wrapped on strong arm about her shoulders. "I'm so sorry," he whispered and pulled her closer.

"The worst part was that I realized it was all a mistake the moment it was too late," Grell added. The tears she had been struggling to hold back suddenly spilled from her eyes and glistened in the firelight. "I was still going to be forgotten except for a quick laugh. No one would remember me beyond some crazy person who killed herself on stage. My final thoughts were a prayer begging for a second chance."

"And you got it," he said.

She nodded as she quickly wiped away her tears. "I know this existence is supposed to be a punishment, but I just can't see it like that. This is my second chance, and I'm not going to waste it. I refuse to be shy and scared. Maybe this life isn't perfect, and I'm still not totally accepted, but I'm still going to make the most of it. Besides, I'm not so weak anymore."

"No. You're not," Michael agreed. His eyes took on a faraway look as he leaned forward and captured her lips.

She knew exactly where this was going, but she made no move to pull away. Let others talk and think what they wanted to think. They were going to anyway, but she needed this. She needed to feel wanted. For the first time she had fully revealed her darkest secrets to someone else, and they hadn't turned away. This night was perfect, and she would deal with the consequences of past mistakes when the time came. She would worry about it later.

((x))

The alarm clock tore through the silence of the room, and Grell's eyelids flew open as she jumped up to turn it off as quickly as possible. After the way her thoughts had been racing, she would have thought that sleep was impossible, but she must have drifted off sometime during the night. Wrapped up in the warm comforting thoughts of the early date with Michael must have calmed her nerves, but now she was back in the present reality.

Quietly, she moved into the bathroom and flipped the switch. As the light flooded the room, she saw that she was slightly pale and there were dark circles beneath her eyes, but there were no bruises to be seen. After all, reaper bodies usually healed too quickly for something as minor as a bruise to show. If only the bruises on her heart could heal so easily, but those were always invisible. A few tears gathered in her eyes as she started to arrange her makeup, but she refused to allow herself to cry. She just didn't have the strength anymore.

Getting ready had become a hire wire act. If she took too much time with her makeup, Michael would think that she was trying to gain unnecessary attention from another man. If she didn't put forth enough effort, then others would notice her sallow complexion and ask questions. There was no safety net, and the correct balance was such a thin, taunt rope.

Her clothing choices were almost as tricky. Her beloved coat had long since been retired to a box when Michael declared it to be gaudy and unnecessary. Her usual pants were too form fitting, as well as her shirts and vests. Now her clothing hung on her and had none of her usual style, but still he seemed to find something wrong with her attire. It seemed that she could do nothing right these days no matter how much she tried. Pulling back her hair in an unflattering style, she stepped out the bathroom and started to quietly make her way towards the front door.

"Are you leaving already?" Michael's voice suddenly demanded.

"Yes," Grell said, glancing down at the floor as she knew that his eyes were crawling over every article of clothing searching for some flaw.

"I'll be at the office around noon," he finally said, "I want you to stay at the desk until then."

"Yes, dear," Grell replied.

She waited for a confrontation, but he seemed too sleepy for such matters at the moment. Sleepily he told her he'd see her later as he rolled over in bed and quickly began to snore. She envied his easy, casual sleep.

With a heavy step and even heavier heart, she walked out of her apartment and down the street towards dispatch as her invisible troubles weighed solidly on her mind. She couldn't help but think how she had been to go to work that morning that Michael had told her a surprise was waiting.