Work Text:
Summer is nearly here. Pigeons are cooing and burbling on the windowsill. Charming creatures, and so useful as messengers. William T. Spears is watching his flock gather in expectation of a treat or two.
It has been over a month since the death of Alan Humphries, now buried on a hill overlooking a small house and garden. Humphries had planted that garden over the past growing season, in the sure and certain knowledge that he would not live to see its fullest bloom. There must have been some unknown motivation. But how odd a pastime for a Reaper—the nurture of living things. William T. Spears had reviewed his accounts and spotted occasions where the food budget had been stinted to buy bulbs, seeds, plants. How very odd...
Humphries had been a small, modest Reaper who usually worked in the shadow of Eric Slingby, his large, gregarious mentor and senior partner. Director Spears had long considered this to be a deliberate strategy; in the office, Humphries preferred the sidelines. Not self-preservation. Self-discipline, perhaps, for a triple A in Ethics who had a hot temper. Still waters, and something always going on beneath the surface.
Since the object of the exercise seemed to be the avoidance of conflict, not the avoidance of work, Spears had found it intriguing. Spears had observed with interest Humphries' selection of a personalized scythe. His choice was an unusual pole saw, teeth replaced with a sharp edge, which extended his reach significantly. Add to that a subadult gymnast's strength-to-weight ratio, and you had a worthy opponent indeed.
Spears, enjoying the warm sun, recalls that Slingby once twitted Humphries about his "girly naginata". Only once, due to that temper. Spears had found it necessary to retreat to his office and muffle his face in his spare jacket until he could reliably maintain a properly sober, businesslike, dignified silence.
Humphries had trained diligently until he had mastered every nuance of his weapon's capabilities. Angels and demons alike had learned caution from Agent Humphries. Some Reapers, unfortunately, could not be taught. Spears had only today learned that Humphries had been quietly managing an unfortunate office situation all along.
This morning, Ronald Knox had mentioned casually in passing that Agent Sutcliff had challenged Agent Mather to a duel. Fine day for it, warm and bright, and would Director Spears like the window opened? The office did get stuffy.
Agent Knox had matured considerably over the past year. Spears had begun to listen rather carefully when Knox's offhand comments were delivered with a certain flat blandness. This one set off all his inner alarms. Spears ported directly to the blood-strewn dueling court, much too late to stop the fight. Mather was in the Infirmary, gravely and inventively injured. A number of juniors appeared to be rejoicing, and bets were being settled among the older witnesses. Upon his arrival, all suddenly seemed to remember pressing business elsewhere. Agent Sutcliff, unharmed and drenched as usual in someone else's blood, gave her report through clenched teeth and a barely contained simmering rage. Spears recognized the buildup of a volcanic explosion and ordered her home to clean up and center herself.
Definitely, both he and Sutcliff had just been managed by their junior. Who was about to be signed up for night classes in addition to overtime. Talent there, oh yes there was, and it was going to be developed mercilessly. Before Knox earned his next minute of spare time he would have forgotten what girls looked like.
The Realm withholds no secrets from those who understand its filing system. Spears quickly verified everything Sutcliff had said, and discovered a great deal more. Twelve years before, Agent Mather had spent time in the Infirmary, his injuries consistent with losing a duel to the much smaller Humphries. A month later it appeared he had attempted an unprovoked surprise attack upon Humphries—a draw, with both men receiving treatment—and then lost a fistfight with Slingby. Four years later the pattern repeated. And three years after that, and again after another three. This, coinciding with cancelled transfer request forms from juniors wishing to leave their desirable positions in the London office, made it clear that Humphries had been repressing a bully who targeted vulnerable new hires. Ronald Knox had been one of them.
Why had their mentors not protected them? Some victims were too new and unready for fieldwork; mentors had not yet been assigned. Humphries himself had been sad, silent and solitary before he had been assigned to Slingby. Was it due to Mather? Had bullying led to depression and the mistakes that had cursed Humphries with the Thorns? Knox had escaped when he had been recommended to Spears by—who else?—Humphries. Some victims worked in desk-job divisions which did not provide individual supervision. Others ... Spears made a list of possibly negligent seniors. There would be a meeting. By the Highest, if he assigned someone a trainee, that trainee was going to be trained properly and protected from all predators, both external and domestic.
Slingby clearly had not known the whole story, possibly because Humphries hated to ask for help. In his encounters with Mather, Slingby was merely thrashing someone who had annoyed his partner, not reaping someone who had attempted his murder.
And... yes, after Humphries' disease became common knowledge, Agent Mather again appeared in the Infirmary and dueling records. The court schedule stated that Mather had issued the challenge. Comparing the timing to the work schedules was most enlightening. Mather was gambling that Humphries, coming off an all-night shift on Collections, would not be able to survive a morning duel with a well-rested, healthy opponent. But Humphries had ended that night in the Infirmary due to his illness. Slingby had arrived instead, administered a back-alley beatdown, and noted on the court schedule that the duel had been cancelled due to stupidity. Mather subsided into circumspect behavior, meaning that Slingby had detailed and demonstrated the consequences of any further aggression towards his partner.
Why had Humphries' partner not killed Mather out of hand, when he must have known the full truth at last? Because at that moment, Slingby could not risk drawing any attention to himself. His illegal collections had begun.
Now in their absence the bully had resumed his old practices. Two desperate, miserable trainees had submitted transfer requests to Agent Knox, who brought them to his mentor. Without thinking, Agent Sutcliff had said, "Don't worry, Knoxie, Alan will take care of—" and then broke off, remembering that Alan would never take care of anything again. In that instant a torch was passed.
Well. Promotion from within would fill Mather's position at once. When the man was fit to resume work, he would find himself assigned to an unpleasant territory with no juniors or peers, directly under the thumb of a superior who was himself in exile for destructive micromanagement. If he screwed up there, Will would reap him personally. Perhaps he would reap both of them, if enough juniors were ready for increased responsibilities. Between them, how many promising Reapers had they cost him? With a bit of luck the pair might reap each other. One could hope.
There needs to be a standardized formal protocol for reporting bullying. Tradition be damned; Will's Juniors must be able to protest mistreatment by those who outrank them. There must be rules, guidelines, penalties, fail-safes, and no more reliance on unofficial interventions. He will make some notes tonight before asking Agent Knox for his input.
The breeze through the window is pleasant. After checking that his door is closed, Will removes a small box from a desk drawer. He opens it to sprinkle safflower seeds on the windowsill. He is quite pleased with this spring's fledglings, all of them strong and well-grown. Tomorrow, he thinks, he really should bring in some cracked corn for the flock, with the tiniest dusting of oyster-shell grit. And perhaps some chopped greens.
This is not nurture, but good business practice; proper care for valuable business assets. It is nothing at all like nurture, or gardening, or anything inappropriate for an exemplary Reaper. Honestly.