On the evening of the seventh day, Will came home. He entered his apartment, dropped a large bag of documents on the floor, hung up his jacket, and turned to greet his wife.
They hugged in silence.
"They would not let us call out of the meeting or from our rooms. They would not let us send any messages. It was partly a test of how our Branches would cope with our absence. Forgive me, my love, I could not even pry a window open to summon a pigeon, we were so closely guarded."
"Alan figured it out, dearest. He and Dorrie went upstairs and persuaded Madame Administrator to prove you safe. Saved me the effort of tearing up the whole level to rescue you."
"It was my greatest fear."
"Well, I did do my monthly scythe maintenance a bit early. Tell me, my love; have they moved you? Will we lose our home? Will I lose you?"
"No. Or at least, not yet. I have new duties but I will perform them from London. There will be a redistribution of responsibilities. How did the Branch handle my absence?"
"Beautifully. Come into the kitchen, dearest, and we will have dinner. I have chicken fricassee and a dish of new peas."
"Wonderful. The food upstairs is dreadful."
Grell dealt cups and plates while Will set the kettle to boil and opened a bottle of white wine. The conversation lagged while Will tucked into an excellent dinner after a solid week of stale sandwiches and lukewarm tea. Grell was capable of learning any skill she truly wanted to master. Cooking was one such subject of study. She had abandoned the Victorian approach – find something marginally edible, carefully remove any nutritional value, overcook and cover with a sauce designed to conceal that the meat had gone off. She had gradually introduced Will to vegetables other than cabbage. It had done him a great deal of good.
Once he was beginning a second serving, he asked for a status review.
"I assume Humphries rose to the occasion."
"All of Operations stepped up like champions. Ronald and Anton took second shift without any trouble, Cortland took third with Solway, Onayemi took over Scheduling, and Humphries took first shift with DePoy. The Admins adjusted easily. Your Reapers never missed a step. The new hires were ready to follow me upstairs. They are scared to death of incurring one of your scolds, you know, but they credit you with saving their lives. Good people, at least the ones I've been training. One breakdown, who's recovering. Two if you count Alan."
"Not up to the work? I would not have expected that."
"No, no. He performed perfectly. But Madame had her revenge upon him. She flatly forbade him to tell anyone, and specifically Eric, anything about his visit upstairs."
"Oh."
"Of course, the very first person he met upon his return was Eric. In a tizzy. Demanding to know where he had gone without a Security guard, what had he been doing, hadn't he promised not to sneak off any more, in general what the hell. And Alan was caught between his husband's tantrum, direct orders from on high, and his refusal to lie about where he'd been. He couldn't get any rest before he began first shift. By the next morning he looked absolutely frazzled and furious. Eric feels he can keep secrets from Alan, but Alan's not allowed to do that to him."
"That has been a problem before."
"They went off to the Academy in a cold silence. I went off to Reap. Which was exciting. Our team got posted off to Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne to continue cleaning up after a derailment and fire. Troop train. Officials and army officers running about, frantic to hush it up because it was all due to negligence and the laws of physics.
"When that shift ended, I managed to catch Eric checking in with his department. I yanked him into his office and told him to shut the fuck up. Just that, no more, not disobeying orders. Oh, and I issued an invitation to try picking on somebody who was willing to pack him off to the infirmary. In a box. For a week. To regrow his little pair of– "
"Grell!"
" – kneecaps, dear, what else? Would you like another dumpling? – Anyway, Alan did not go home that shift. He went to the room they keep for emergencies, changed the passcode, and is sleeping there. Now that you are back, he can tell all and they can maybe kiss and make up. Fair warning, most of their staff are in hiding until they do. Except Avram. Nobody's braver than Avram." Grell poured Will another sip of wine. She did love to feed her husband.
"But I think, Will, that Madame has made a serious mistake. She's lost some of Alan's loyalty. And mine."
"Yours, Grell? She has been a good friend to you."
"I am just a friend when they need a fourth for bridge. Now, darling, you are getting better at this. Think, and tell me why this was not a good idea."
Will paused. Slingby and Humphries did have a co-dependent relationship. They also had a history of responding badly to separation and to perceived danger to their spouse. Both had tempers rarely roused but furious. Had they ever lost those tempers with each other, simultaneously?
"Grell, have they ever had this serious a dispute before?"
"Not to my knowledge. Never a shouting, stomping, name-calling, cup-throwing, door-slamming, moving-out fight, because they've never lost their tempers at the same time. Boring, really, but works for them. Keep thinking."
"But if they are separated, Humphries goes into depression and Slingby goes into mania. Not particularly useful, either of them, when that happens, which is why we take care to keep them scheduled for at least one shift together each day." Will moved a pea around his plate. "And their bond. Probably both were getting feedback rage through that bond."
"Oh, very good, darling. And?"
"Both are vital resources in peace and war, as long as they are together and content. Yet Madame deliberately set them against each other."
"Yes. Once Eric's had the full story, he should realize how he was used. If not, Avram will certainly tell him, possibly with a whack 'round the ear for not stopping to think. Keep going, please."
"Humphries had a choice. He chose to obey Madame's orders. It was the right decision for the Branch but a disastrous decision for the marriage." He moved a second pea to the opposite side of the plate. Grell smiled encouragement. He followed the thought to an unwelcome conclusion. "If the situation arises again, he will disobey Madame without a moment's regret."
"Right you are, darling. Never forget it."
"Grell, I do not see how I can help them. Their happiness is vital to London but their marriage is very much not my business."
"This is a situation where your natural preferences are correct, Will. Do nothing. Alan will go on duty at midnight. I'll pop over after dinner and tell Cortland you're back. She'll tell Alan when she gives her handover report. That frees him from his silence. He'll meet Eric in the morning when they go off to teach. He'll explain himself then. Wait to see if he moves back home on the next shift. At least they should be talking by then. Eric should recover quickly. Alan, I think, will not. He's deeply hurt and unhappy."
"He'll blame Madame."
"He's right to do so. This is not something that will become funny in time, not to Alan; he won't forgive this. Go easy on him for a few days, because he might be on the edge of a depressive episode, just when we really don't need one."
"There is one possibility, Grell, which might improve the situation. Did you know that Slingby and Madame are of an age? They have known each other for centuries and cooperated well in recent years. Slingby may go upstairs and protest her actions. He might extract an apology."
"And he might not. Will, do not ever let her set you against me. I swear I will never allow her to set me against you. In such a situation, all you have to say is I cannot tell you. Can you disobey her even that much?"
Will thought carefully. Then he proved to her that yes, he could.