The day dawned far too early, as so many inconsiderate mornings tend to do. Alan woke, washed and dressed, put the kettle on, and packed his duffel. One of the harder rules; that Reapers had no homes, but only billets; they served where they were sent. They must be ready to move on a moment's notice. At least this was not reassignment, but only relocation within their own Branch. Still. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years, with Eric. He asked no greater blessing. Just more of the same for as long as possible.

There was nothing much here to take, of course. Everything belonged to Housing, except a particularly soft blanket he'd bought one icy day. Nothing at all but memories. He'd get a box from the Ops Admins for the few kitchen tools he didn't want to lose, if he and Eric couldn't fit them into the duffels.

He heard shuffling in the bedroom and a curse as Eric tripped over one of his shoes. A warm rush of love flooded his heart. He poured tea. All the milk had gone into last night's soup, but there was sugar left.

"Good mornin', me Light. Ah, tea, thank you. I'm packed up. Yer blanket?"

"Right here. Is there anything in the kitchen you want to keep? I put our tea tin in my duffel, and the ladle, and our kitchen knives."

"I'd like to keep me teapot. It's nothing special, but it feels like home. I can get it in me bag. Let me see if Grell's still on the sofa, we owe her the last cup at least."

Alan poured the last of the tea into their only unchipped mug, rinsed the brown stoneware pot and wedged it into Eric's duffel.

"When we get into the office, I'll find a box. I'll wrap the teapot in my blanket and tuck the kitchen tools around it. We can store it in a corner until we are assigned a new apartment. We won't need them until then. My ivy can go in my office window; it's shade tolerant."

"Good. Grell? Good morning. Tea on the table. We're gone. Help yourself to anything ye like, but there's not much here. Thanks for staying. See you in the War Room."

"No, Eric, wait. Remember the soup bowl. The angels have given themselves an excuse to come back. Grell shouldn't be here alone. We'll buy her breakfast. Come on, we need to get out."

"Grell? Rise and shine. Levitate and glitter, O child of the rosy-fingered dawn."

"Sink and rust, you heartless barbarian. I'm up. I'm going home to wash up and put on my face. I'll meet you for that breakfast. You owe me big for the lumps on that sofa."

Alan went from his Reaping shift to the Academy. After discharging all his duties there, he walked over to the Academy's infirmary. Dr. Collins was waiting for him. "Strip. Hospital gown. Up on the table. Lie down on your belly. Does this hurt? Does this? Cramping or aching? Blood in your urine still? Damn angels. The bruises are still visible. They should have been gone by now. Any problem with the hip joint or lower ribs? Good. Turn over. Looks clean. Stand up. Still favoring that leg a little. Sit and drop the gown. Raise arms above your head. Turn right from the waist. Now left. Twice-damned angels. Let me listen to your lungs. Inhale…hold…exhale. Again. Good. Heart. Good. You can get dressed."

Alan obeyed. "Any marks?"

"No. Wouldn't be visible yet anyway. Are you sleeping comfortably? If you need pain relief, try a warm compress and a stiff drink. The pain meds are not what you need right now. Some are addictive, others encourage internal bleeding. Gentle stretching exercises, no combat classes until all stiffness and pain are gone. Continue to make your reaping partner do the heavy lifting. It's outrageous that you are reaping at all, but I understand the necessity. I think you will be back to normal in another two days with no further problems."

"I need to be sure."

"Perfectly understandable. Come back next week. We'll know then."

"Is there any progress with the research?"

"No. But it's fully funded. The Higher Ups are solidly behind it. Staffing problems, you know. Heaven forbid that they be required to leave their desks for fieldwork. Scares 'em green. Go home and rest."

Back to the office, to meet with Senior And-Don't-You-Forget-It Solway, flushed and victorious from her battle with Housing. "Alan, come look at these listings. You and Eric have been entitled to an upgrade for years. Of course, you weren't notified. I picked Housing up and wrung them out. Great fun. Eric, come over here and sit down. There are some very nice flats in neighboring buildings which are pretty much ready for occupancy.

"But if you don't mind a longer wait and a double port to work, there are other places available. Since Bristol Director D'Acres still lives in London with his wife, we thought you might also consider living farther away. Might make you harder for the angels to find. Have a look."

"Ach, we were notified. Just didn't see the point. We were comfortable enough. Only there to sleep, mostly. Also in earlier years it was all we could afford."

"Cost is still a consideration…"

"Alan, it's only a consideration if Will keeps rejecting yer expense sheets for the Thursday Night gatherings at the Scythe and Skull. Since the whole Realm directly benefits from yer work there, I think it's time he ponied up – especially since there are funds set aside for it in the Budget. They're still there. He's just holding them back, waiting for horrible emergencies to crop up. Well, now one has. Mari, can you and Liz get Brock to release those funds? Admin can put pressure on Will that Operations can't."

"Sounds like a possibility. Also sounds like fun."

"Now, me Light, look at this listing; a wee cottage in the Lake District near Ambleside. Gardens all round to visit. Beautiful and quiet. Unused since the Reaper there moved to Kendal."

"Too far."

"Nah. Will himself said it. Location's irrelevant if we have a portal. How d'ye think Roland gets to work?"

"Oh. Well. Pros; lovely, quiet, and our presence endangers no other Reapers. Cons: maintenance, and no allies near if we're attacked. Actually, Eric, it's too pleasant. We're likely to have to move again. I'd rather have a place I won't regret leaving."

"Well, then, over here in H Block, here's one on the top floor that's bounded by storage rooms. Probably intended for a Maintenance manager. Quiet. No neighbors on either side if we're visited again and have to fight our way out. Single and double rooms on the floors below. Mostly newly promoted Seniors. The angels probably won't look there."

"Same layout but slightly larger than ours, and it does have windows. I think if we are found, we should agree not to fight – just port out separately to the fifth floor bullpen to get help. Maybe an alarm we could set off to clear the rest of the building."

"Ah, but then ye have to tell everyone what the alarm means. Our location becomes public knowledge. Mari, can ye have this one set up quietly? Utilities turned on and a cleaning? No point in tarting the place up until we've been there a month without being chased off."

"Eric, yesterday's visit might have been an emergency." Alan's temper was emerging. "But if they show up again, uninvited, in Branch housing, invading peoples' private living quarters, then it's harassment and trespassing, and endangerment of bystanders. I will wind Will up like an arbolest and aim him at Madame Administrator. I suspect even Sandriel will back off if she gets the Higher Ups involved in this. She can escalate this to Azrael. He definitely outranks Sandriel and may outrank his boss.

"Mari, I want fresh paint and the largest size bed, extra-long, with a new mattress. If the ceilings are stained, make them fix the roof and replaster. No leaks in the plumbing. Hot water sufficient to fill a large tub twice, even if they have to install a separate heater. The kitchen stove must be fully functional. Otherwise, standard basic setup. Don't let them charge us for repairs they should have made when the previous tenant left. Occupancy to begin upon approval of the work. Further enhancements can be arranged if we're still there in six months."

Mari gathered up the listings. "I'll start them working today. I've explained to them why this is a rush job. They are treating it as a special request for the accommodation of visiting officials, so don't be surprised if you see that on the work orders. It means the setup will be expedited and a few extra amenities provided. It also means that your names are nowhere on the paperwork. For the time being, I've a double room for you in the same block, second floor, north end. It's ready for occupancy now. Here are the keys. If you want to drop off your box of personal items, you can do it any time."

"Might as well do it now."

"Mari, when we move into the new apartment, can ye arrange for us to keep the keys to the double room? So if we get another visit, we have a place to stay until another apartment opens up?"

"Yes, I think so. Because of the war, housing is not as crowded as it was."

Alan turned to the business of the day. First, of course, was paperwork; the incident report on his angelic assault for Spears. He laid it out carefully, making sure that no pertinent point was omitted. Then he crossed out few bits of unnecessary complaint, made a clean copy, and took it to Spear's Administrative Assistant.

To his surprise, he was announced and ushered into Spear's office. He was pointed to a chair, one of only medium discomfort. Spears was not pleased, but he was not blaming Alan. Spears read the report carefully. He picked up another – Sorenson's version – and reviewed it, then reread Alan's. Spears then laid both reports down, edges meticulously aligned. Silence. Then a finger began to tap the desktop.

Spear's default state was anger. He was controlling it, but right now he was tightly wound and half-cocked. Alan would not have to prompt him. Marisa Solway had him primed, loaded and locked; all that was needed was a deserving target, and Will was an expert at picking his shots. Moreover, he accepted Alan as a superb spotter.

"Humphries. I have already received an apology for the behavior of the angel who assaulted you in the field. His punishment will be severe but not extreme. I am assured that there will be no further such incidents from his Flight. We will, of course, pretend to believe these assurances. We will also remain alert for any future attacks from angels who do not agree with this message."

Will sat back. "Never in the known history of the Division has Housing been invaded by denizens of a different Realm. Offices, yes, by demons in the sixth and thirteenth centuries. Housing, never. I have reports from Knox, Sorenson, Sutcliff, Reyes, Quirke, Solway, Brodie, Onayemi, and Cortland on the gathering in your apartment. All agree that your threshold was crossed without invitation. I have spoken to Housing. They are furious. They will submit their own protests.

"While the Divine Realm has every responsibility and right to investigate an unwarranted attack by an angel on a reaper, there are existing protocols which have been ignored. There are many meeting rooms with high ceilings designed for this purpose. The Scythe and Skull has a banquet room expressly designed for meetings with Angels who find the Branch's meeting rooms insufficiently luxurious, or have reason to feign informality.

"Captain Elihu is not to blame. He was under orders from Sandriel, whose rank is unknown but obviously high. You will now tell me what that rank may be."

"Seraph, I think," said Alan. "He's not in Azrael's employ, or we'd know his exact position. He's working with Azrael's permission, though. He belongs to one of the other top archangels. Probably Raphael, the Angel of Healing. Eric saw Sandriel give a boost to my recovery after Anders shot me. The doctors say that my survival was due to angelic intervention."

Will's anger dissipated. "Not somebody we want to alienate permanently, then. He's going to be a busy fellow when the current catastrophes are over. Is he junior enough to act on impulse? Did he feel the situation too urgent for protocol? Still, a protest must be made. We must be safe in our billets, as the angels and the demons are safe in theirs. As much as I would enjoy registering a vigorous protest, I think that this evidence is best presented formally to Madame Administrator. She is better placed and more experienced. This is far too High for a mere Branch Director."

Will turned a cold gaze upon Alan. It was not at all his standard glare.

"The assault upon you is Azrael's issue. The assault upon your home was made by an angel not of Azrael's hierarchy. This is going to be a matter between two of the Highest. Sandriel is already in far more trouble than we could ever arrange. He's overstepped his authority and he's interfered in Azrael's business. His defense is his concern. Uriel is doubtless already making life miserable for the new Flights and those who trained them. No, we should only present the facts for Madame to send upwards. We cannot do better than to watch the fireworks from a safe place below.

"As to the possibility of escalation of hostilities between our Realms; it will not happen. Too many Reapers have been lost already. The safe and orderly collection of souls is commanded by One above archangels. We in Collections tend to forget the Voice and the Sword that lies in the combined Administration of all realms."

Will actually chuckled. "Your expense reports from your Thursday Night frolics have been countersigned and submitted. I believe I shall ask Grell to find a suitable housewarming present for you. You have provided me with considerable amusement, both now and in the near future. I think such behavior should be encouraged, don't you? Go, Humphries, and tell your insubordinate partner that I want reports on that party from both of you. On my desk in ninety minutes, for inclusion in the packet for Madame."

Alan went back to his office, closed the door, sat down and took a moment to breathe. Will had learned to hold his temper. To think through his anger. Will was going to be a Power someday, a very good one. Alan gave himself time to recover. Will had laughed. Terrifying.

Alan picked up the phone. "Eric, Will wants an event report on the party last night, on his desk by 15:30. No, I'm fine, fine, just a bit of a shock. Tell you later."