Sorry I took so long to update this story. This was rough chapter to write.
Chapter 6:
Grell stood silently in the hallway as she listened to the gossip; her heart thudding guiltily in her chest. The two women, secretaries that usually worked the front office, continued their conversation lightly, as if they were talking about nothing more than the women.
"He was transferred already?" asked the one with the brown, bouncy curls. While she said surprised, there was almost a gleeful edge to her voice that grated Grell's nerves.
The other woman nodded as she carefully arranged her blonde, straight hair. "I just finished up the paperwork," she explained, "although I have no idea where they're sending Samuel too next."
"He only worked here two days!" exclaimed the brunette, "That must be some sort of record! What did he do?"
"I have no idea," the other woman replied, "but it must have been bad. I heard that the order was put in yesterday for him to be immediately transferred."
"Hasn't he already been transferred several times?"
"That's what I heard."
The women's voices began to drift off as they walked back to their desks, and Grell immediately turned and walked swiftly towards Michael's office. She only hoped that she was just being paranoid that Michael hadn't transferred Samuel just because he had talked to her in the cafeteria. Surely, there must be another reason. She struggled to keep her nervous energy under control as she came to Michael's door and knocked.
"Enter," Michael's voice called.
Grell opened the door and stepped inside the office, careful to close the door behind her. Michael's face lit into a bright smile when he saw her, and he immediately stood up from his desk and crossed the room.
"Grell," he said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a gentle kiss. "What are you doing here?"
She hesitated slightly, which she realized was unlike her. When had she gotten so hesitant? "Darling," she began, "I have a question. It might upset you, but there's something I need to know."
He tilted his head as he looked down at her with a perplexed expression. "What is it?" he asked.
"Did you have Samuel transferred?"
He stepped back and straightened his jacket slightly. "No," he answered, "but what if I had? Would that mean something to you?" The edge in his voice was evident, and Grell regretted her decision to come here. She should have known it would lead to another argument.
"I just wouldn't want someone sent away because of me," she explained quickly, "I don't want someone punished just for speaking to me."
There was an awkward pause, but then she saw Michael's face soften. "You were worried that it was your fault," he stated, as apparent realization swept over his features, "Oh, my dear, sweet Grell, it had nothing to do with you."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," he replied, "Samuel was a sweet kid, but he was also a walking disaster. He made a mess out of the reports he was supposed to be handling that will take us weeks to correct. I wasn't even the one who put in the request to have him transferred. It had nothing to do with you or anything you did."
Relief flooded her body as she felt as if a terrible weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "That's good to hear," she said, leaning forward, "although I do feel sorry for the boy."
"Don't worry about him, dear," Michael returned, "I'm sure he'll find his place here soon. Now, is there anything else, or am I'm just getting to enjoy your company without any complications?"
She giggled before kissing him. "Sadly, my dashing prince, I suppose I have to return to work now." She stepped back and placed her hand on the doorknob as he returned to his desk. "Are you still planning on working late again tonight?" she asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"I was thinking about joining a friend for drinks after work," she answered, but she immediately regretted her words. It was almost as if she was asking for permission, and she had carefully excluded Ronald's name. While she wasn't being dishonest, she did regret the feeling she couldn't tell Michael everything.
"That sounds nice," he said casually, "Have fun."
There was no questions or arguments, which made her feel even more relieved. She walked back to her own office to receive her assignments, but she still couldn't dispel the nagging feelings that there was more to this issue with Samuel.
((x))
Grell recognized Ronald's playful knock on her door the moment the clock indicated that working hours were over, and she smiled to herself. He had never wanted to work one second overtime, and it appeared that certain things hadn't changed. "Come in, Ronnie," she called, as she put away a folder.
"How did you know it was me?" Ronald asked as he opened the door. Looking about the office, his eyes grew wide behind his large frames. "Wow! You really have done well! This is bigger than Mr. Spears' office."
"A little," she agreed.
"But I'm surprised you haven't decorated it more," he added, "I mean, there's barely an red in here. I figured your office would look like it was bleeding."
She laughed, but there was a certain amount of nervousness lacing her laughter that she hoped that Ronald didn't detect it. Even though she had now been in her new office for several weeks, she still had no idea how to decorate it. Normally, she would have just gone with her own style regardless of what anyone thought, but now she worried about what Michael might think and how it might reflect on him since he had so boldly announced that they were in a relationship. "I'm still trying to decide on the perfect accessories," she said, "Good interior design takes time and effort – and I don't make places look like they're bleeding." She tossed an eraser playfully at his head. "You've been to my house."
He ducked. "I guess so," he said, as if relenting, "So, are you ready to go?"
"I'm always ready," she answered.
((x))
"So, what's been happening down in dispatch lately?" Grell asked, before taking a sip of her drink. This was Ronald's favorite pub and, while it was a bit too noisy and crowded for Grell's taste, it was nice to get out to do things she used to do.
"Nothing much," Ronald answered with a dismissive nod, "Same old stuff every day. We really do miss you though. No one even uses your desk. There were some jokes at first, but…" His voice trailed off suddenly, and it seemed that he had said too much.
"What kind of jokes?" she prodded.
"It's not important," he answered quickly.
She looked at him for a moment, knowing exactly what everyone was probably saying, and feeling a bit sorry for Ronald since she realized he didn't want to hurt her feelings. "I know that everyone talks about me, Ronnie," she said in a quiet tone, "I'm not as oblivious to it as I act. Let me guess, they're all whispering that I slept my way into a promotion."
"Something like that," he admitted, "But I know that's the not the truth, and I have told them."
"It's okay," she said, placing one of her hands on his, "I know how they talk, it doesn't bother me anymore, but thanks for trying to defend what left of my honor."
He took a long drink. "So, I guess things are going good with Michael," he said, obviously trying to change the subject, "What's his place like?"
"Things are great," she said just a tad too enthusiastically, "And his apartment is huge. It even has this balcony that has the best view." She presented Ronald with a wicked smile. "I like to sit out there nude and just wonder what all the neighbors think."
Ronald laughed, but it became clear that he had picked up on her nervous vibe. "Are you really happy?" he asked, "You seem a little nervous sometimes, and, well, not really yourself."
She stared down into her glass as if the answer was waiting at the bottom. "I am happy," she finally said, "but I suppose I'm nervous as well. I've never….really been in a serious relationship like this before." Sighing softly, she raised her eyes as she continued her confession. "I've dated other men, but it never really seem to go on beyond a few dates. Most were just curious if I was as crazy or as promiscuous as the rumors said."
Ronald watched carefully and kindly as she spoke without offering to interrupt. He seemed to understand that she needed to say these things even it wasn't easy. "What was even worse," she continued, "Is that I were intimate with some of them even knowing this. I shouldn't have, but I was lonely. I needed to feel loved sometimes, so I would sleep with them even though I knew I was only adding to my bad reputation." A single tear escaped her eye and slipped down her cheek before dripping from her chin.
"Senior," Ronald said softly.
"But it's all over with now," she announced, as she wiped away the remnants of the tear, "I am nervous at times, because I'm scared I'll do something to mess up my relationship. It always seems like I'm saying or doing the wrong thing, but I guess it's all just a learning process. Michael's made some mistakes too, but we're working on it together."
"That's good," stated Ronald, before looking down. "I, uh, know what you meant about being scared of messing up a relationship."
"You do? I thought Mr. Smooth Style Knox had it all under control."
He smiled weakly and shook his head. "I have no problem with dating," he explained, "but I'm scared of being in a committed relationship – terrified even. It's not that I'm so scared of being just one girl, it's just that I'm scared of…of…Well, I'm not sure what I'm scared of, but I'm scared."
"I guess we're all a little scared," Grell said before finishing off her glass, "but you just need to look at from a new angle. So, which ladies are you dating now?"
Ronald's trademark grin reappeared as if it had never vanished as he began telling her about his most recent date. He bragged just as he always had before, but she had a new respect for the younger reaper. She had long since suspected he was afraid of long term commitments, but this was the first time he had ever admitted it openly, which must have taken quite a bit of courage. Although it had been difficult to discuss, she had felt better afterwards and he seemed to as well. Leaving behind the heavy topics, they finished the evening with easy laughter and conversation.
After leaving Ronald, she returned to the office to retrieve her red coat which was still stored in the locker. She felt a bit guilty that she had almost forgotten about it, but so much had been going on over the past few days. Saying goodbye to the guard on evening duty, she decided to return to her own apartment first to take care of her coat before going to Michael's place. After all, he still didn't understand the importance of this coat.
Nothing had changed down her old street, but it was foolish to have expected it to change practically overnight. Whistling a happy yet long forgotten tune, she walked up the steps and put her key in the lock.
It refused to turn.
Frowning, she jiggled the keys and tried again, but the result was the same. For whatever reason her key no longer worked, although she couldn't make sense of it. She checked again to make sure she was using the right key and this was the door to her apartment, but everything else seemed to be just fine. The only issue was that her key no longer unlocked her door.
She stood there a few minutes, turning things over in her mind, but she realized there was nothing she could do by just standing here. Still perplexed, she made the sure trek to Michael's apartment. She could have easily created a portal, but she did enjoy walking, and that was especially true when she had things on her mind. Her rent automatically came from her paycheck, so that shouldn't have been an issue. Perhaps a mix-up had occurred when she had gotten the promotion. For now, that was the only thing that made sense.
Michael's door was unlocked, and she was surprised to hear him in the kitchen when she arrived since she thought he'd still be working. "Is that you, Grell?" he called from inside the kitchen where she could smell savory aromas began to waft.
"Yes, darling," she called back, "I didn't expect you to be home so early." Taking off her shoes and placing them on the shoe rack by the door. "I stopped by my apartment this evening, but my key didn't work. Do you know if my rent is still being held out of my paycheck?"
Michael stepped to the doorway as he wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "You don't have rent being held out anymore," he replied, "I went by this evening and told them you didn't need that tiny place anymore."
"You did what?" she exclaimed, "Michael, where are my things?"
"We didn't have room for everything in the apartment," he said, "so I had most of them put into storage, but I did put some of your clothes in the closet." He walked forward with a strange look on his face. "You don't seem happy, my dear," he said, "I just did it as a surprise to let you know I really want you to be a part of my life."
Grell figuratively bit her tongue. A part of her wanted to rage at how tired she was at Michael's surprises and that he had overstepped his boundaries once again, but she knew that would only lead to another fight. After all, she was in a relationship now and that took a bit of effort. She had to try to make this work even if that did mean she had to change the way she normally acted. After all, it was only a little change.
"That was sweet of you," she said, stepping forward to close the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him, "although it did surprise me. What are you making for dinner, dear?"
"I decided to make some nice roasted duck," he answered with a smile. With those few words she had seemingly smoothed over the upcoming argument before it had even erupted. Stepping back, he pointed to the bag that still hung on her arm. "What's that?"
"It's my coat," she replied, holding it a little closer to her as if protecting it, "I had left it in my locker at work after fighting the demons."
He eyed it for a few moments. "Okay," he said in an odd tone, "Go ahead and get comfortable. We'll be ready to eat soon."
"Of course," she said, "You're too good to me Michael." Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she took her coat to the bathroom so that it soak. As she walked back through the bedroom, she quickly peeked into the closet and saw that Michael had only gotten her older, less stylish of clothes, and she didn't even recognize a few of the pants. She would talk to him later and get the rest of her clothes out of storage. It was annoying, but it was easy enough to correct, so she decided to worry about as she changed into something more comfortable so she could enjoy the undoubtedly delicious dinner that Michael had prepared.
((x))
Grell stood in front of the closet door, wearing on a pajama top, and staring with disgust at her clothing choices for the day. While she had intended to go to retrieve the rest of her clothing the night before, she had gotten sidetracked. Michael had wanted to know more about the red coat and its significance to her, but Grell had felt unusually hesitant to offer up all the information. In truth, it was hard to explain to someone else because it was hard enough to make sense of in her own mind. She didn't know how to explain how she had truly believed that she had been in love with Ann yet had killed her when she had shown weakness – the thing that Grell feared most within herself. Unfortunately, she hadn't had a chance to ask Michael where her clothes were stored.
"Michael," she began, without turning around, "Where are my clothes?"
"Hmm?" He still was half asleep, but he managed to sit up in bed as he a hand through his tousled hair. "They're right there."
"These are my old clothes," she answered, "I'm not even sure whose pants these are. They're too big for me."
He yawned loudly as he put on his glasses and walked over to her. "Those are yours. I bought them for you yesterday."
"But they're too big," she reiterated.
"Grell," he began in a serious voice, "I had another meeting yesterday about the dress code. The other members felt your wore your pants just a bit too tight, and that it could cause a distraction."
"Then maybe those old coots shouldn't be staring at my butt," she returned, giggling slightly, as he reached into the closet to see if there was any other pants that she had looked over.
Without warning, he grabbed her and spun her around, his hands digging into her arms painfully. "Who are you wearing those tight pants for anyway?" he shouted, spittle flying into her face, "You just want all those men to look at you. Right?"
"Michael, let go," she, amazed that she could speak so calmly, "That's how I like my pants, and I only wear them for myself."
"Yeah, right," he grumbled, shoving her away slightly. "Like anyone would stare at your skinny arse anyway." He stomped into the bathroom, muttering to himself the entire time. "You want to be treated like a woman," he said, "but you have all the curves of a 12 year old boy." The door slammed behind him and Grell was left alone with his words.
She took in several deep breaths and she considered what Michael had said. While it was certainly true that she wasn't as curvy as she would have liked, she had been under the assumption that Michael still found her attractive. He had always made her feel that way in the past, but now she had to wonder. Slowly, she walked over to a full length mirror and turned sideways. Previously, she had been told her posterior was one of her better physical features, but it was clear it was far too small with not nearly enough flare about the hips. It was too skinny. No one would have any interest in looking at it.
Feeling her confidence melt unto the carpeted floor, she returned to the closet and dressed slowly in the clothes that Michael had chosen for her. The pants hung on her, which would have normally been a problem, but she no longer cared. After brushing her hair, she didn't take the time to even put on any makeup before leaving the apartment. It's not like anyone was going to notice anyway.
((x))
Michael didn't speak to her at all that day, which only broke Grell's heart more as worked on her assignments. Other than to collect those records, she barely stepped out of her office. She didn't want to see anyone but, more importantly, she didn't want anyone to see her. There were always days when she felt unattractive and simply wrong, but today was the worst she had ever felt. With Michael, she had felt beautiful and feminine, but now she felt more like a homely freak then she ever had before. She almost wanted to go to his office and beg for his forgiveness, although she had no idea what she had done wrong. Perhaps, just being herself was wrong enough.
After work, Michael was nowhere to be seen, so Grell hurried to their apartment to begin dinner. While she wasn't quite the cook that Michael was, she was competent enough in the kitchen to create some delicious meals. Perhaps some good food would help with mending their relationship.
Unfortunately, Michael didn't get home until very late. The food had grown cold, as Grell's heart had while she had waited on the couch. He didn't say a word as he stepped aside and only allowed his eyes to graze her for a second as he removed his shoes.
"I made dinner," she offered, "I can heat it up for you if you like."
He didn't answer as he walked over to her and towered over her seated form. "You didn't tell me the friend you went out with was Knox," he said.
Her mouth gaped open briefly. "I told you it was a friend," she replied, "but I would have told you it was Ronnie if you asked. It wasn't a big deal."
Growling, he lifted her off of the sofa by her arms. "It was a big deal!" he shouted, "Now everyone at the office is laughing at me. I allow you to move in with me, and you go out behind my back, like the little trollop you are, and go out with Knox. Is that who the tight pants and makeup is for?"
"Ronnie's just my friend!" she cried, "We just went out to talk, and he was telling me how happy he was that I found someone like you." Tears began stinging her eyes as she wiggled out of his grasp. "Why are you so jealous are the time? You need to trust me. Why can't you? Are you the one cheating or something?"
The sound of him slapping her across the face echoed throughout the room, and she could only stare at him in shock. "You hit me," she finally said.
He laughed bitterly. "Just returning the favor, sweetheart," he retorted, "Remember, you hit me first. It's your fault that it's come to this."
He lunged for her again, but she moved out of the way. Turning, she started for the door, but he grabbed her by her long hair and jerked her back. She cried out in pain, but the anger was now taking over her sense. Spinning around, she slammed her fist into his nose before he could hit her. Yelling, he shoved her, and her knees hit the couch, which caused her to fall backwards. He jumped forward to pin her arms, but she did manage to kick him first.
She was very strong, and she knew that, but her talent was more with her scythe or some other weapon to give her a bit of reach. Hand to hand, her smaller statue put her at a disadvantage with Michael, and she realized that as he pinned her down.
Horrible, vile names spilled from his lips as he spit in her face and repeatedly hit her. She still struggled and fought, occasionally managing to land an off-balance blow, but Michael was the one in control. He leaned down until their noses were nearly touching, and it was almost as if he was going to kiss her although she knew that such sweet gestures were the furthest thing from his mind.
"Now I can see why you've not been in many relationships," he hissed, "Who can stand you? You need to understand one thing, babe. I'm the best you'll ever get. I'm the only one who will ever put up with you." He struck her in the face, and she could feel it was bleeding, before dragging her to her feet by her hair. She was barely aware she was being pushed outside until she felt the cool, night air against her bruised and bleeding skin.
"Get out," he growled.
"Where am I supposed to go?" she demanded.
"I don't care," came the swift reply as the door slammed home.
Angry, she stomped down the street, but soon her anger melted into sadness and pain. Crying bitterly, she walked about rather aimlessly for she had no place to go or to even call home. She was all alone.