Chapter 4

She stood alone on the small hill and cursed the beauty of the day which seemed to mock her very existence. Tears streamed down her face and obscured her vision, but she tore her eyes from the scenery to stare down at the crumbled note in her hand. She didn't need her sight to read what had been hastily scrawled on the page. She had read those two sentences so many times in the past hour, the words had been branded on her heart.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not strong enough."

This should be her moment. Instead of crying in this torment, she should be laughing as she locked hands with her lover so they could run off and face the world together. Their future would be uncertain, and they were bound to face some hatred, but he had promised to stand by her side. He had claimed to love her and that he understood, but he had run away just like everyone else. In the end, he had been too weak.

She had a note of her own tucked into her pocket, but this one was full of venom for all the people who had failed her. Setting it to the side, she pulled a large knife from her bag and stared at the blade as if fascinated. She didn't want to do this, but life had just hurt her one too many times, and she saw no relief on the horizon. She would forever be judged and misunderstood. She would forever be alone.

As she brought the blade to her wrist, she cast her eyes upward as a pseudo prayer fell from her lips. "If there is another life beyond this, oh please let me find a love that is strong enough to stand by my side."

((x))

Grell sat silently in the soapy weather and watched as the steam rose around her. Normally, the hot water kneading at tired muscles and the steam relaxed her, but now the misty air only took on the red hues of her scarlet towel and candles so that it had a hellish glow. Perhaps that was the reason she was being assaulted by so many memories. How much a reaper remembered of their human life did vary from individual to individual, but she had always vividly recalled the end of her life. She had been in love with a young man named Elijah, who had claimed to love her in return. Knowing their families, nor society in general, would approve, they had formed a plan to run away together, but Elijah had left her a note instead. He had been too weak to face the world for her, so she had taken her own life with her final thoughts being the wish for a man that was strong enough to love her.

Grell removed the plug so the water could swirl freely down the drain as she carefully stepped out of the tub, but she couldn't release her memories so easily. Somehow, her final wish had remained in her mind when she had been reborn, and it completely changed the way she acted and behaved. Her new body was so strong and agile where she had been rather physically weak in life due to poor health, so she had decided to take advantage of this change. She pushed people away and bullied them, and a tiny part of her thrilled that everyone now seemed afraid of her. She'd see them step out of the way when she walked down the halls, and even some of the instructors would move aside with the fear written clearly on their faces. It felt good to be in control and to have some power, but her loving heart had still cried out for someone.

Grell walked over to her mirror and wiped away the condensation so that she could see her face. The dried blood had been washed away, and the bruises had already faded due to her advanced healing abilities. There was no sign that she and William had physically fought outside of the pain stamped in her eyes, but no one looked close enough to see it. She could hide it easily with a sharp toothed smile and risqué comment.

She had noticed William early on, of course, with his dark hair and tall build and had been immediately attracted. Sadly, he had seemed as weak as any of the others, so she had been the meanest to him. It was wrong that she was attracted to another weak man, so it was as if she was punishing him for her feelings. He seemed to accept this behavior until he finally had stood up and fought back. That's when she had realized he was secretly strong, and the walls she had built up around her heart crumbled like fragile china. From that moment on, she had accepted she loved William, and became determined that he would love her one day.

At first, William's advances towards her tonight had been like something out of one of her fantasies. She had often imagined that he would take charge, and the feel of his hands and lips had been intoxicating. This was what she had been wanting for so long, but the sounds of her clothes being ripped away had brought an unexpected fear to her mind. Although she wanted to be bold, she was scared because there was one thing that William didn't know.

She was a virgin.

She had been determined to only give herself to someone she loved and had fallen in love with William soon thereafter, so she had waited. Sex was viewed rather casually in their world, so her attitude was peculiar, and she had never vocalized her desire to wait. Despite this truth, a rumor had begun that she had sex indiscriminately. In a realm where no one seemed to care who they slept with, she was still branded as 'Slutcliff,' although she pretended to not know the existence of the unfortunate nickname. No one would have believed her if she had told the truth, so she simply flirted with the very people who spread the rumors and used the sauciest innuendos her imaginative mind could conjure. It might have seen counterproductive, but it was the way she had learned to deal with the situation.

William undoubtedly thought she was overly sexual as he had said as much in the past, but she had always planned to tell him the truth. In fact, had things continued on their course, he might have discovered the truth this evening, but when she had asked him to slow down out of her own fear, things had taken a violent turn.

While she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she couldn't silence that small part of her mind that insisted it was partially her own fault. After all, she had wanted to be with William and had made this abundantly clear over the years. Perhaps things would have worked out for the best if she had not fought back and simply submitted.

She shook her head violently to dispel the thought, and the slightly damp tendrils of hair that had escaped the messy bun on her head slapped at her damp skin. She knew such a line of thinking of dangerous. It didn't matter how much she had wanted William, he had still tried to take advantage of her. Her being flirty or having a bad reputation was no excuse. What he had tried to do was wrong.

But she still couldn't quite silence that voice.

Barely resisting an urge to slam her fist through the mirror, she wrapped a soft robe about her body and walked into the bedroom to dress for bed. Although she knew Upper Management would frown upon her thinking, she wished there was another deserter so she could work off all this restless energy. Benjamin had barely even put up a fight the night before, and there had been so much information on him it had been easy to locate the boy. As she been contracted to do, he had been summarily executed on the spot, although she honestly didn't understand the reasoning. Most deserters simply tried to lead normal lives, but that was futile since their inability to age and die naturally forced them to constantly be on the move. There was no true rest or happiness for them, but she had long since learned not to question such decisions. Besides, the feel of her scythe slicing through a body and the spurt of fresh blood would do wonders for her mood at the moment.

There was no one to hunt or kill at the moment, however, so she simply dressed in a pair of red and black silk pajamas and crawled into bed. Perhaps things would be clearer in the morning.

((x))

Eggshell white.

The obnoxiously plain color was the first thing William became aware of as his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to his own ceiling lights. Unlike a lot of reapers, William had never bothered to repaint his apartment for it seemed like a waste of energy and time. Besides, he had no eye for color or decoration, so he had left his surroundings as plain as most viewed his personality.

His head ached and throbbed as if was infested with a swarm of angry wasps that swirled about so that his thoughts and memories were lost in buzz. He remembered returning from the pub and seeing Grell's coat. There had been a knock at the door, and he thought he could remember that his visitor had been Grell herself, but his mind was blank after that. He couldn't remembered what he had said to the redhead, or how he had wound up lying on his own floor. "Honestly," he mumbled to himself as he brought up his hand to rub his throbbing temples.

The coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils and he could see the drying gore affixed to his hand like a gruesome glove. Despite the throbbing in his head, he sat up quickly, but he was not prepared for the horror that spread around him like an unspeakable nightmare.

Blood had been splashed on the walls in an hideous pattern so that it looked like a field of violent, exploding roses, and he could hear the steady drip where the bodily fluid was so thick it hadn't yet dried. The drip was as monotonous as the clock on the far wall - or the beating of heart. In the center of the crimson mess, a body lay motionless and still. Crawling forward on his hands on knees, William slowly approached the body.

The hair was red, and he immediately thought of Grell, but it had only been dyed red by the copious blood. A few of the short strands that had managed to escape the gore were blond and black, and he knew even before he saw the ostentatious watch that this was actually Ronald. Dread welled up within him as he turned the body over to survey the damage.

There was no question that Ronald was dead. Half of his face had been torn away leaving behind only torn muscle and a few teeth which glistened obscenely from the hole tore from his cheek. His left eye had been ripped from it's socket, but the right looked up blankly at William. The green and gold had become faded and sightless, and it looked more like a marble staring out in horror. It appeared that Ronald had tried to scream in the end, and his mouth had been frozen as a gaping maw of horror. His neck had and chest had also been clawed and torn to shreds. Some of the damage had obviously been done by a scythe, but William couldn't help but notice that other wounds appeared as if someone had tried to rip Ronald apart with their bare hands. William knew that those hands belong to him.

What was even worse was that he could sense that Ronald's soul and records were missing. The absence of his soul was disturbing enough since this meant that Ronald could not be reborn, but there was no reason for his records to be missing as well. A scythe separated the two easily, but there was no mistaking that the records were missing as well.

Carefully, William stood up and walked with a false calmness to the telephone. Punching in a few numbers, he waited until a voice came on the line.

"How may I direct your call?" a professional sounding woman inquired. It struck William that her voice might not suit her image at all, and he had to stop himself imagining how she might truly look.

"My name is William T. Spears," he announced, "I live in Flat E on West Street. I have just killed dispatch agent, Ronald Knox. Please send the authorities."

He hung before the woman had a chance to respond, and winced slightly when he noticed the smudge of blood left on the phone. With the same measured stride, he walked into the bathroom to wash up, but he wasn't really surprised to find that the blood didn't wash away so easily. His hands should be stained by his deeds.

Afterwards, he stepped into the bedroom to retrieve a sheet and was just positioning it over Ronald's face when there was a heavy thud upon his door. It was far too hard and explosive to simply be a knock, but William steadied himself as he opened the door and stepped aside. The two men that stomped inside were broad and muscular with something akin to disgust written on their features. With their identical uniforms and similar shortly cropped, dark hair, William had trouble telling the two apart, but he didn't spend much time examining their faces. Instead, he held out his hands to await the celestial handcuffs.

"William T. Spears," one of the men barked, "You are under arrest for murder." He slapped the handcuffs on William's wrists, and William was surprised to find that the cuffs rather hurt. He had never heard of any sort of pain associated with the implements, but he hadn't really discussed being arrested with anyone either. Accepting the pain, he nodded as he allowed himself to be led from his apartment.

The same man continued to talk, but William couldn't focus on the words. He couldn't stop the accusations swirling about in his own mind. This was all his fault. If he had admitted he had been having issues, he might have been put into the Facility, and Ronald would still be alive. His own fear of being institutionalized had caused all of this, and he knew the punishment for such a crime. Murder was bad enough, but actually destroying the soul and records was an offence punishable only by death.

And he deserved it.

((x))

Grell strolled into Dispatch while humming a happy tune; the sounds of her heels clacking on the tiled floor creating a bit of a rhythm. Only a few glanced her way, although her antics were mostly ignored these days, which suited Grell just fine. In truth, she certainly didn't feel as carefree as she was acting. She had gotten very little sleep the night before, and had to apply just a little more makeup around her eyes to disguise this little fact. It would doubtful anyone would notice, but she didn't want anyone to question how she felt - especially since she wasn't quite sure herself. Despite going over the matter continually in her own head all night, she still wasn't sure what to make with the way William had acted. She had to confront him directly.

With faux confidence, she steadily walked towards William's office, but frowned slightly when she noticed the door was closed. He usually left it open of the morning so he could keep an eye on who was arriving late to work. Even so, Grell knocked lightly, but wasn't really surprised to find there was no answer. With an exaggerated sigh, she turned towards Miss Fletcher, who was just sitting down at her desk, to ask if she knew of William's whereabouts, but was shocked to see that the secretary was looking at her with a horrified expression.

"Don't tell me William's out again?" Grell asked lightly. As soon as the words left her mouth, she could hear the whispers whipping around her like a unseasonably cool wind that marked the coming of a terrible storm. She was used to the whispers as they had hounded her through two lives, but something in her heart told her this was more than mean spirited gossip, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms slightly around her body.

Miss Fletcher swallowed once, and Grell saw that the woman was trying her best to be professional. "Mr. Spears will not be in today," she managed to reply, "Nor will he be coming in again. Upper Management will be sending a replacement supervisor down later today."

"But why?" Grell asked. She dreaded the answer, but she knew she had to hear the truth.

"There was….an incident last night," Miss Fletcher replied, "It appears that Mr. Spears killed Mr. Knox, and he is now being held in the Ethereal Prison."

Color faded from Grell's world as she desperately tried to make sense of what Miss Fletcher had said. The secretary was still talking, but Grell couldn't focus on the words as she hurried to the small office she shared with Ronald. His desk looked the same as it always did with it's slight clutter, although she noticed that his collection of girls' pictures had been replaced with a single one of Emily. There were no assignments on his desk, however, and that was enough for Grell to know the truth. Ronald was gone.

She staggered back a few steps and leaned heavily on her own desk. Ronald was gone, and William was imprisoned. She had lost them both, but in a way that hurt her far more than anything she could have imagined. Ignoring the stack of assignments on her desk, she suddenly pushed herself away and stomped out of the door. As she marched down the hallway, everyone stepped aside. It was just like in her academy days, but she no longer sought to be feared. She only wanted to be left alone as she left Dispatch and hurried towards the prison.

Unlike the shadowy realm she had visited previously, the prison itself was far from hidden. It set solidly just beyond the business district and rose up like a jagged, foreboding mountain. Yet most seemed to try to ignore or deny its existence; often refusing to even look in the direction. Grell found this laughable since accepting or not accepting something didn't change its reality but perhaps things were different for someone who had actually been held within the unforgiving walls at one time. Her stride didn't waver, although she felt her heart speed up a bit as she approached the high gate. Although she had been here many times since she had accepted the position of bounty hunter, or recovery agent as it was sometimes called, she had never been able to escape the feeling the gate was nothing more than a metal filled mouth ready to swallow her whole. Keeping her face neutral, she approached the gate and motioned to a guard in a nearby shack.

Since she had been to the prison multiple times for information, the guard barely glanced at her through the window before yawning and activating some situations. She thought his name was Thompson, and she had yet to see him look anything other than bored as he routinely read a book and scratched at his bald head. This was probably because there was so much security inside the prison, his job was little more than sitting in a small shack for long hours. Thompson returned to his book as the gate slid open soundlessly and she stepped inside. Without waiting to see the gate closed, she marched quickly to the front entrance where she encountered two identical, narrow doors. Typically, she stepped though the door on the left, which led to the offices, but instead, she opened the right door. Unlike the gate, it creaked loudly and heavily as if announcing her visit, and walked inside a small room. A larger door was located directly opposite, but first she walked up to a short counter on the left wall. Another guard was sitting inside, but he was almost an exact opposite of Thompson. His name tag identified him as Wilson, but his nervous twitches told Grell he was fresh from the academy. He regarded her with wide-eyed shock as he quickly adjusted this glasses and ran a hand through his sandy hair. "Yes," he began, "Can I...uh...can I help you?" She almost felt sorry for him, but his experience just might work to her advantage.

"I need to see the prisoner, William T. Spears," Grell stated firmly, "and I don't have time to wait around."

Wilson fiddled with some papers. "Uh, no one is supposed to see that prisoner," he replied, "You can put in a request or-"

"I don't have time for these games!" Grell interrupted, slamming her open palm on the counter, "I am reaper recovery agent 6537-006, Grell Sutcliff. There is danger that this prisoner will attempt escape, and I came to prevent this problem before it arises. If he escapes while you're playing out here, the ensuing incident will be blamed on you. Do I make myself clear?" She was lying of course. While she was a listed recovery agent as part of her probation, there had no warnings William would even try to escape. She only hoped he bought her little act, but she was an amazing actress after all.

"You are listed as a recovery agent," he finally said, "but I'll need to call my supervisor."

"Do whatever you want," Grell replied in a dismissive tone, "but let me speak the prisoner while you're making your little call."

The young man paled beneath his brown hair and swallowed loudly. "Okay," he finally agreed, as he pushed a button. "He's in cell 7, but you should wait." The large door in front of Grell unlocked audibly and swung inwardly almost imperceptibly. Keeping her face stony, she strode forward and stepped through the doorway - ignoring his plea. She could hear Wilson frantically calling his supervisor as the door slammed shut behind her and locked. There was no turning back now, nor did she have any desire to do so. She had to see William.

Her footfalls were loud and echoed through the halls, but she wasn't concerned. There were few prisoners or guards actually inside this facility, nor did she particularly fear Wilson's supervisor. From her own experience, she knew that most of the supervisors took extended breaks and were hard to reach when needed. She almost smiled at the thought as she strode to cell 7 and stood in front with her arms crossed.

William looked up slowly, and the surprise was evident on his typically cold face. This short time in prison had already taken is toll as his hair was messy and there were dark circles about his eyes. She was ready to feel any sympathy for him, however, as she simply stared at his seated form.

"Sutcliff," William said, "What are you doing here?"

"Did you kill Ronald?" she demanded instead of answering his question.

He opened his mouth to answer, but quickly close it again as his eyes slipped back to the stone floor of his cell. "It appears that I did," he admitted.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, "What you did to me was bad enough, but I could have forgiven you for that." Her anger was rising as her hands shook. She wanted to kill him at this moment even if she knew it wouldn't kill her pain.

He looked up with what appeared to be genuine confusion. "What I did to you," he said, "What do you mean?"

She waved the question away as if it was nothing more than an annoying insect. "That's not important," she lied, "what is important is that killed Ronnie, and I can't forgive you for that." Taking a deep breath, she started to walk away because she knew it was becoming impossible for her to control her feelings but paused just before walking out of sight. "I hate you," she announced, "As much as I ever loved you, I hate you now." With those words, she left William to sit in his lonely cell, although she knew it wouldn't be long. Upper Management didn't procrastinate when it came to punishments, and she already knew William's fate.

((x))

The silence within the prison was almost deafening as William sat silently in his lonely cell. Grell was gone. She had said her peace and had left, and he couldn't really blame her. He knew she had been close to Ronald, but what hurt him most was what she had said. She had said she had hated him. He had never dreamed those words could have fallen from her lips, but it had happened. This was all like some sort of horrible nightmare from which he couldn't awaken. He buried his face in his hands as he tried to make sense of it all. He had known he was losing control over his sanity, but he could never imagined actually killing Ronald, and he had no idea what he had done to Grell. William could have cried if he hadn't taught himself not to do so long ago.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in that position when he became aware that someone was approaching, and he looked up in hopes that Grell had returned, but he soon realized that it was more than one individual. Adjusting his glasses, he sat up straight so he could greet these visitors with what little dignity remained. After a moment, the warden along with two large guards appeared. The warden was a handsome man with steel grey hair and a slender build, but the two guards looked more like stone statues that somehow gained the ability to move.

"Hello, Mr. Spears," greeted the warden in a dull voice, "How are you doing?"

"I am fine," answered William, "considering the circumstances."

The warden nodded briefly. "You will have a trial tomorrow," he said, "but it is only a formality. You will be executed the following day. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's good," said the warden, "Now, we just have to put on a containment collar."

The warden might have said more, but William was't listening. He couldn't listen as his mind began to shriek and squeal almost as if it was in terror. It made no rational sense for William to be afraid of the collar, but he couldn't deny the fear and anger welling up within him. He looked up desperately and opened his mouth to ask for some assistance, but a loud beast like growl escaped his throat.

His body was suddenly no longer under his control as he watched himself suddenly leap towards his feet and lunge towards the guards. He heard their terrified cries as they blood splattered on the walls. Somehow, he had managed to grab hold of one of the guard's scythe and he knew he was about to kill again. Just before, he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, and he only hoped that someone would be able to stop him before he escaped.

((x))

Grell's feet were dragging as walked through dispatch covered in blood that was not her own and too tired to worry about putting on an act. Everyone still stepped out of her way as she slowly walked to the office she used to share with Ronald. For once, she was thankful as she didn't feel like really talking to anyone else. With a loud sigh, she stepped into her own office and closed the door.

"I expected you back sooner," a voice stated.

She jumped before turning around only to see Lawrence Anderson sitting at Ronald's desk. Although she respected the man, she still didn't like seeing someone sitting at her junior's desk, but she decided not to make it an issue. "Why are you here?" she asked, as she laid her bloody chainsaw on her desk. It was still hot from where she had used it to kill three demons who made the mistake of showing their faces while she was collecting souls.

"There's been another deserter," Anderson said calmly, "and I think you'll be especially interested in this one."

She turned around just in time to see him throwing a file in her direction. She caught it easily, although she was confused as to how she hadn't heard a single whisper about anyone deserting. Curious, she opened the file and almost dropped it in surprise when she saw William's unsmiling face looking up at her. "William...escaped?" she asked.

"Yes," Anderson, "but we have a lot of information on him; some very important information. You'll need to read that file carefully, and I have some other things you need to take."

Grell smiled coldly. "This is perfect," she said in an oddly quiet tone.

"Pardon?" Anderson asked.

"This is perfect," she repeated, as she picked up her customized scythe and pointed it towards Anderson. "After all," she said, "I should be the only one who is allowed to take William's life."