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Chapter Text

Ronald saw his mentor a total of three times before she disappeared with no warning. The first was when he was assigned as her trainee, and they barely went over his information before she had returned to work and he to the dormitories. The second meeting was longer; she'd assessed his knowledge and capabilities as a Grim Reaper. He hadn't been too impressed with his own performance, and neither had she. 'Passable,' she'd said.

The third time, he'd accompanied her to a reap. He hadn't been allowed to, apparently. Not without the necessary permission form submitted and approved. Miss Sutcliff hadn't given him much of a choice, and that was the very excuse he'd given to Mister Spears when they'd been caught breaking the rules.

He'd regretted going along with his mentor, at first. The reap had been a young lady, not yet an adult. It had been an accident, a gun handled without care and pointed every which way. She'd had a smile on her face, laughter on her lips. The gun had gone off, and then there was silence. Her friends had fled, and Ronald had watched as Grell reaped the woman – the girl.

His mentor hadn't said anything to him, not until they returned to the headquarters. She'd mocked him for his sensitivity, or perhaps teased him for feeling sick. He couldn't remember, he only knew he'd felt insulted.

In that moment, he'd regretted everything that had brought him there. He still did, but what Reaper didn't?

Later, with his mentor missing, he'd bounced between several other seniors and the academy. Those who had no mentors still had classes he could join, and the technical skill would help, anyway. But it felt different now.

No one here was a stranger to death, they all got here through the same means, but it was one thing to read about the process of reaping, and another to see it happen. To see a human going about their day and have their life cut short, however that may be. He felt numb, forced understand the weight that would be on his shoulders, the pain of being right there but unable to save them.

But they were here for a reason. They weren't the saviors of life – but souls, of memories, of secrets taken to the grave, of every single thought in the world.

It was as much of an honor as it was a punishment.

Ronald heard the rumors almost before they started circulating. Grell Sutcliff had been found in the middle of London, either fighting against or working with a demon. He'd heard both accounts, and he wasn't sure which he believed. He both respected and feared her.

He'd heard from senior Humphries that she fancied herself an actress – a top-notch one at that. Whether that meant she could turn on the charm to get what she wanted, or that her cruelty was a facade, was up to debate. Ronald didn't know which he preferred. He knew she'd taken her mentorship seriously, she'd been dedicated in her teachings, and taking him out on a reap so early would help him prepare for his final exam, but how much of that was of her own free will? She lacked any real friends, for as often as she went out drinking with her coworkers. Coworkers that, as he quickly found out, found amusement in anyone referring to Grell as a woman.

Perhaps he should be ashamed, but he wasn't going to sacrifice his own reputation for a woman that abandoned him for-... Whatever reason she might have had.

It took a week and a half for her to burst through the building, unashamedly flaunting her new red coat as she strutted to her office. It suited her hair so well, but her shoulders were too broad for her to wear it properly. Ronald couldn't help but think it a shame – it looked like it was made for her. It only she was a little bit smaller.

Tucking himself safely into her office, door closed behind him, he gathered the courage to pry. "So what were you doing this entire time, miss Sutcliff?"

"Wasting my time on a woman that didn't deserve it," Grell replied, a faint bitterness hissing through her fangs. Did... Did Grell steal this woman's coat? That seemed a bit childish, but completely in line with what he knew about her.

Ronald leaned against her desk, leaning around to get a proper look at her face. The ones that had witnessed Mister Spears escorting her back from the mortal realm had claimed that she'd been beaten bloody, and more than one theorized it had been the work of that very same supervisor. Ronald didn't want to believe it, Spears was almost excessively professional – except when it came to Grell. Perhaps he did take advantage of the lack of witnesses. Everyone knew Grell was too frustratingly smitten with the man to defend herself.

"Have they told you anything about your mentorship? Am I back under your wing?" Ronald asked.

"Yes. Though you have to forgive me, I don't have any specific plans prepared. I'm not allowed out on the field yet, so I'm afraid we'll be forced to do petty chores for the others for a couple of days."

Ronald exhaled slowly, nodding his head. "I guess that's part of what I'll be doing once I graduate, anyway."

"Yes, yes, now get out of here. I need to get to work, and so do you," Grell grumbled, waving a hand in his direction and flapping it about dismissively.

Ronald left the room, feeling a bit disappointed with himself for not having the guts to ask the important questions. Whatever she'd done in London hadn't been out of the kindness of her heart – he wasn't sure if anything she did was for any sort of charity at all. But she wouldn't have been held up for ten days after her return, had she been trailing a demon or investigating a discrepancy in the souls.

But she didn't want him to pry, and he didn't care enough to try either way. His life would only get harder if he went from being the unfortunate lad to have Sutcliffe as his mentor, to her friend. The girls from General Affairs that were helping him with his Scythe customization were so sympathetic to his circumstances, it would be a shame to lose this advantage.

The day Ronald held his custom Death Scythe for the first time was awesome. It was big and loud and all his own.

He got his hands on it just in time, too, because he got assigned to his first actual reap. It was with Mister Spears, much to his surprise. The boss didn't seem to trust Sutcliff with him yet. Not that Ronald minded, it was surprisingly nice having a chance to see Mister Spears in action.

The glare as he'd inquired about his Scythe was terrifying, though. Having a poor relationship with his future boss wasn't ideal, and thankfully, the man trusted his word that it was acquired legally. It was, but Ronald knew how hard it must be to believe. He was still an intern; his classmates had barely even visited the headquarters.

Nevertheless, Spears urged him into action, and he took the chance to prove himself. He paid attention to the Cinematic Records, he judged them neutrally, and lined up his completion stamp with the standard rules that he barely remembered.

But he received no compliment or even acknowledgement when they wrapped it up and went back. Spears disappeared into his office and Ronald waited for Grell in hers. She helped him with the paperwork and he handed it in before heading to the dorms to sleep.

He was a Reaper now. Not in title, but he'd done the work. And he had nothing to show for it except the bloodied gasp in his lungs, pressing into his already useless heart, flattening it into torn pieces of rotting flesh. He wasn't gone yet, wasn't yet grim, but he was different. Somewhere between clocking out and arriving home, he'd realized something had changed. He had seen people in danger - people that were dying and dead and he'd acted accordingly. He'd judged them, their joys and hardships (of which there were too many) and he'd let them die. It hadn't been a hard choice, this time, these people had kidnapped countless children, but it had not even occurred to him to give them a second chance. He could have tried. Could have argued he thought them capable of great change. Even if Spears was unlikely to listen, he could have tried.

Ronald was awake before his alarm went off. He felt uneasy for no discernable reason. Going through the motions of everyday life helped dissuade it slightly, but arriving at the office brought it back full-force.

Early to arrive, he sat in the break room with a warm coffee in hand. Seniors Slingby and Humphries arrived together, already arguing over something mundane. For people that never seemed to get along, they sure enjoyed each others' company. It was as fun as it was frustrating, since Eric tended to pull him into their fights, and that always pissed Alan off further. They seemed to sense his bad mood this morning, though, grabbing their drinks before shuffling out of and towards their office.

Reapers whose names he barely knew (and, at this point, was too afraid to ask) filed in and out at a steady rate, but the only one whose appearance helped Ronald relax was Grell. She was a morning person, clearly, happily chattering away about the dreams she'd had last night. He didn't particularly listen to her, but he did enjoy hearing her ramble.

"We should get going, I suppose," Grell sighed, the tired tone of her voice sending a jolt through his body. The earlier dread settled back into his spine, so he gripped his coffee cup harder, trailing after her like a puppy.

They had a particularly empty schedule today, Ronald noted once he peeked into his ledger. The first two hours were dedicated just for paperwork. Or, more realistically, goofing off.

They made little conversation until they had to leave, and the fear slowly built up in him. Having his Scythe at the ready helped, certainly, but something screamed at him to fight.

Getting to the scene of the death gave him some answers. No soul. A demon had claimed it.

Grell expressed her distaste, and taught him how to file a case report as soon as they got back.

The uneasiness faded. There was no fight. No actual sighting, even. As soon as the issue arose, it ended.

It was postponed, rather, as three days later, he woke up trembling.

He was at the office in record time, catching Alan and Eric as soon as they walked in. He didn't give them a chance to decline, forcefully pulling them aside to a lesser used hallway. Either they were stunned into silence, or caught his fear once again.

"I think there's going to be a demon attack today, I really need some pointers," Ronald hissed, avoiding eye contact with Eric specifically.

"Why do you think so?" Alan asked with a tilt of his head.

"I just have this... Feeling of dread. And the last time it happened, Sutcliff and I had our first reap ruined by a demon. But that time, it was a lot less intense than it is today. I feel like my guts are about to wiggle out of my pores."

"Disgusting visual," Eric remarked, pulling a face.

Alan, to his credit, didn't immediately call him crazy. "If you're really that worried, of course we'll help. Though I've never heard of a reaper able to predict demon appearances like that."

"I don't particularly care why it's happening as long as I don't end up kidnapped and tortured for eternity." Ronald shrugged one shoulder, tapping his foot against the floor. "Are they very tough?"

"Some of them can be. The ones who steal souls like that aren't, usually. The strong ones make contracts, and we don't get them in our lists," Eric explained. "You won't be alone anyway, so it's the ideal first encounter for you. Don't let it taunt you, don't let it scare you, and don't let it get the soul. The fight itself is the easy part."

Ronald narrowed his eyes. "Then why did miss Sutcliff struggle against Bassy? Or do you think the rumors are true, that it was Mister Spears who beat her up?"

The senior Reapers shared a glance and a silent exchange. Ronald waited patiently for them to speak up, and eventually, Eric did. "We aren't allowed to tell you a lot, understand that. But he fought a stronger devil. One that's old enough to pick and choose its meals. You aren't likely to face off against those bastards for a while, so don't worry about that."

"But what if I will? What if this is what this dread is telling me?" Ronald demanded. His voice wavered with effort to keep himself from shouting.

Alan reached out to him, a calloused hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. "Grell will protect you. In that case, all you have to do is listen to what he tells you to do, even if it means leaving him behind. For all the bad qualities he has, I don't think he's selfish enough to let you stick around just to fight an impossible opponent."

The thought of abandoning Grell left a bad taste in Ronald's mouth, but it was the only way he could possibly prove useful. He would just have to bring reinforcements. Disliked though she may be, Grell was a good reaper, and everyone knew their lives would be harder with her – or any other working reaper – gone.

"You were taught enough to handle yourself at the academy, Ron," Eric said, the gentleness of his voice doing wonders to calm the boy's mind.

A too-wide, awkward smile graced Alan's lips. "He's right, you know. You're already comfortable with your Scythe, you're a fast thinker, and you don't panic easily. You're leaps and bounds ahead of your peers. You're certainly a better Reaper than I was at the same time."

Ron grinned easily, pride sparkling in his eyes. "I know all that already, but feel free to keep reminding me."

"There you go, that's more like you," Eric snorted, clapping him on the back twice. "You'll do fine. If a demon even shows. Could have just been a lingering scare from a nightmare and a stupid coincidence the first time."

"I hope so," Ronald coughed, stretching his back. Eric had a strong arm and he could only hope it didn't show on his face. "Doesn't make my internals any less squirmy, though."

"Then I'd avoid coffee today," Alan advised.

With nothing more to say and free time running out, they scattered to their respective stations.

When Ronald and Grell arrived at their third reap, he knew he'd been right to suspect something. It was just past midday, but their mark was in a dark and damp basement.

Their eyes adjusted easily to the darkness, and the night-vision made it easy to spot the demon. It was hunched over the poor sod, barely moving as it fed. Something about the sight was mesmerizing.

The roar of a chainsaw spooked both Ronald and the demon. The blond powered up his Scythe, and the demon flickered back and forth between the shadows of the room.

"Aren't you an active one?" Grell taunted, fangs on display. "So tell me, are you the same one that stole our reap a couple of days ago?"

She hardly flinched at the high-pitched screech it let out. Ronald clapped his hands over his ears, grimacing in pain.

Grell snapped forward, flailing her Scythe at the writhing black mass. It wasn't a lack of skill, Ronald knew, but a playful act of incompetence. She pulled back when she got too close to nicking it, danced around it when it drowsily swiped its claws through the air.

Was it blind? Ronald couldn't see any eyes in the black fog, but demons don't exactly follow any type of logic anyway. Perhaps it was too scared to lose its life, to get too close to attack lest Grell slice it into pieces.

Slowly, Ronald lowered his hands onto the handle of his lawnmower, taking small steps towards the center of the room. As if burned, the demon hissed and backed itself into a corner, moaning for mercy.

"In all my years as a Reaper, I've never met a creature quite like you," Grell yawned. "The exact opposite of my Bassy, really. Undignified and cowardly. A boring, simple-minded weakling."

Ronald was inclined to agree. "I can't believe I was worried about this. Is this how all demon sightings go?"

"Most of them," Grell shrugged, stabbing her Scythe into the demon in one too-quick-to-follow strike. The all-encompassing fog dissipated with an agonized cry, starting mournful and weak, but building up to a screech that left Ronald's ears ringing.

Grell squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, red locks bouncing wildly. It did nothing to ease the pain in her head. "Ugh, stupid little thing..."

While Ronald gripped his skull, massaging the headache out, she checked the corpse for a soul. "We were too late, but at least it's gone now. Let's head back."

Ronald didn't hide his shit-eating grin as he sat himself down on Alan's desk. "Demon. I told you so."

"Are you calling me a demon or are you saying that there was a demon?" Alan raised an eyebrow, reaching out with lightning-fast fingers to pinch Ronnie's arm. The blond yelped, smacking his hand in retaliation.

"There was a demon. Grell killed it. Really easily, too. As soon as we arrived, it panicked. It felt way too easy. It didn't even really try to fight back."

Suddenly, Alan's eyes were on his, pinched with concern. Ronald squirmed uncomfortably. "What?"

"It shouldn't have been that easy. Not to mention that you predicted it... Maybe you should go talk to Mister Spears about it."

"Eh..." Ronnie breathed vaguely. "Two is a coincidence, three is a pattern, right?"

"What?" Alan blinked, then vigorously shook his head in disbelief. "You were just so smug about being right."

"Yeah, but I don't care if you call me crazy. If the boss says it, I might just believe it."

"Charming," Alan gave Ronald a nasty look. "Have you at least talked to Grell, then?"

"Not really," Ronald sighed, running a hand through his fringe. "She's been talking about that demon she's met during her, uh... Hiatus. She'd probably try to get me to be her personal Bassy-finder or something."

Alan laughed, tossing his head back. "I can see that happening. I'll talk to Eric about it, how about that? At the very least, he might know who to turn to about weird things like that."

"That'd be great, thanks. I owe you one," Ronald grinned, hopping off of the desk with a wink.

"I intend to abuse that promise, I hope you realize."

"Your definition of abuse is asking for something and only saying 'please' twice," Ronald snorted.

"You'd think so," Eric teased as he stepped into the room. Alan perked up, tapping Ronald's thigh to urge him to leave before burying himself in his paperwork.

Sometimes it worried Ronald, how Alan behaved when Eric appeared like that. His shoulders got tense and he busied himself with anything resembling work. By now, Ronald knew Alan was still relatively new, so perhaps there was still some lingering anxiety about disappointing his seniors.

Something told him that wasn't quite it, though, and Ronald prayed that it wasn't what he feared.

With a sympathetic sniffle, Ronald hopped off the desk and walked out.

Chapter Text

“Ronald Knox,” called a calm yet strong voice. William popped his head through the doorway, making eye contact with the blond. “In my office, please.”

“Someone’s in trouble,” Grell purred without looking up from her half-finished documents. “Don’t let Willy-darling scare you, my dear Ron. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Ronald raised an amused eyebrow, rounding his small desk to walk out the door. “I’m not worried. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s what they all say!” he heard her shout after him. Around the corner, he saw Spears walk into his office, leaving the door ajar for him.

Walking in, Ronald offered the man a small smile. “Hello, sir. How can I help you?”

William folded his hands on top of his desk, already seated, and Ronald quickly followed his example, crossing one leg over the other. Mister Spears didn’t seem too pleased about his posture, but didn’t make any mention of it. “Your graduation is in four months, is that correct?”

“Exactly four, yes,” Ronald nodded with an easy grin.

“You’ve only been here on and off for about eight months, but you’re already quite accomplished,” Spears began, subtly tilting his head. “The Board would like to conduct an ‘exam’, if you will, to see whether you’re ready to sign the papers and become an employee of the Grim Reaper Dispatch.”

Ronald’s mouth opened before he could fully comprehend the offer, uncrossing his legs with an almost comical, excited bounce. “Yessir! It would be an honor!”

“The honor is all mine, I feel,” William said, an almost imperceptible sparkle flashing in his eyes. “We don’t often see such dedicated Grim Reapers, and it would be a shame not to recognize your talent.”

Ronald scooted forward, now perched on the very edge of his seat. “So what would this exam entail?”

“An investigation, as well as a large amount of reaps. Now, you would be paired up with your mentor for this to keep an eye on you and to assist you in anything you’re still unsure about. You’ve never had to investigate missing souls before, am I correct?”

“Correct,” Ronald nodded, tapping his fingers against his knee in a fast, stable rhythm. “But I’ve heard from Humphries what it can be like, and I think I can handle it.”

Spears nodded, shuffling some documents around before finding what he was looking for. “I will sign you up for it, then. It will take place on the seventeenth of April, and you are to board the luxury liner, the Campania. You and Sutcliff will receive the necessary files to help you with your investigation by the end of the week.”

“I won’t let you down, sir,” Ronald swore, schooling his expression to a careful determination. “I’ll make sure the discrepancy is cleared.”

Spears offered him a rare smile, sending Ronald’s heart racing from the excitement of seeing such an exclusive expression of emotion. The blond couldn’t recall if either of them said anything after that; he was still hopped up on adrenaline when he returned to Grell’s office.

As soon as Ronald found the document on his desk, all of Ronald’s hopes were dashed. Mister Spears had certainly known how to motivate him to do his best for the job, but he hadn’t even attempted to hide the thinly veiled contempt disguised as incident reports.

There were several signatures at the end of the dossier, and the lack of William’s elegant scrawl only made his day marginally better. Spears might not have even been aware of the extent of the claims against Retrieval, including one of his recent reaps – a young woman by the name of Margaret Connor, whose case file he hadn’t even submitted yet.

Ronald took his time to read through the accounts, growing increasingly concerned with the task assigned to him. Now, he hadn’t been a reaper for very long, but he’d paid attention in class. It was impossible for the reaped to get up and keep living. There was no soul in that body. Though Ronald wasn’t entirely sure how the process happened, it had been emphasized that as soon as a Reaper stamped a case ‘completed’, the soul was safe in the hands of higher management.

So this wasn’t possible. These were just complaints from Retrieval, from overworked and confused agents that thought they saw something they didn’t.

With firm disbelief, Ronald scanned through the rest of the dossier, taking notes in the margins when anything popped out at him. The pattern quickly became clear – all sightings and discrepancies were connected to the movements of a secret society of doctors and desperate believers.

And now it was up to Ronald to look into it, because that was all the information they currently had on the organization. Well, him and Grell, but what were the chances that she’d do anything other than the bare minimum?

Holy fucking shit, he overslept.

Ronald had gotten dressed in record time, putting on his new coat and its matching hat and dragging his luggage behind him. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he almost missed the boarding time, he had no idea where to go.

He scanned his ticket and shoved his way through the crowds to look for the second class entrance, stopping to ask for directions from a girl that he’d been disappointed to learn wasn’t going to be joining him on the ship.

He was the last one to board, removing his hat to fan himself with it. He wasn’t warm, it took more than a bit of jogging to get a Reaper to work up a sweat, but people had seen him sprint up the gangway, and he was hyperaware of maintaining a human facade.

Ron removed himself from the railings, heading below deck to find his room. As everyone was busy waving their goodbyes, the corridors were mostly deserted. After being pressed into a pancake making his way to the boat, it was a welcome change, though he made sure not to do anything that might rouse suspicion should anyone walk around a corner and spot him.

He dropped off his luggage, coat and hat, and began his exploration. He’d yet to spot Grell, but she might already be worming her way into some man’s bed, so he wasn’t particularly bothered with her absence so far. She’d pop up eventually and start telling a tale so raunchy that he might consider throwing her overboard. It wouldn’t stop her, of course, but she would switch to complaining instead, and that was worth saving the ears of the passersby.

Ronald found his way into the third-class dining hall where he found a couple of people already cups deep in ale. No pretty birds just yet, as expected, but a nice cold drink sounded excellent right now.

“OW!” Ronald yelped, clinging to Grell’s shoulders when he jerked back, one foot getting stuck on the rung of the railing he’d been standing on.

She barked a startled laugh, fighting to keep them both balanced. “Sorry, did I kick you in the-?”

“Right in the nuts, yeah,” Ronald whimpered, carefully stepping down and adjusting himself in an effort to lessen the pain. Despite Grell’s insensitive laughter, he pushed himself back up to press against her back, this time with Grell’s knee already resting on the railing, giving him much more confidence to maneuver around.

“Now hold onto my waist,” Grell instructed, folding one of the ropes running from the very tip of the bow up towards the mask between her hip and her bent leg, slowly lifting her hands from the banister to test her balance.

“I’ll fall,” Ronald whined – but, wanting to get back to work (and avoid getting chewed out), he did as she’d instructed, pulling her coat out of the way to grip onto her sides. Still feeling unstable, he shuffled a step over to the right and tossed one arm over the same rope Grell was using to stay upright.

As he settled into position, Grell slowly lifted her arms, spreading them out into the air. At the same time, glass shattered behind him, and he turned as far as he could just in time to see a body tossed out into the waters below.

“No averting your eyes now!” Grell demanded with a grin, even as she wobbled at a particularly strong gust of wind. “Come on, you need to feel it too!”

As her excitement peaked, it was like a switch had been flipped, her voice taking on a higher pitch, a performance just for herself. “This briny ocean air, I feel like I’m being caressed all over!”

Right, that’s enough of that. Ronald tuned her out, but remained attached to her as he mentally went over everything he’d seen tonight. By now, he’d learned how to focus on his own thoughts even through her unending spiels about hunks and what she’d like to do with them.

Speaking of which. It can’t be a coincidence that the demon was here. Grell didn’t know yet, obviously, or she’d have offered something insane for a chance to display this humiliating scene with her darling Bassy. No way he was telling her either, he needed her help if he was going to pass this exam – if it was even real. He still didn’t know for sure, though he didn’t doubt that Mister Spears and Grell believed that it was.

He hardly paid attention to the conversation he was having with Grell, throwing in a jab or two when it felt necessary, but otherwise concentrated on the collections. It was hard to tell the bodies apart, but with the help of a few pointers from his mentor, they made steady progress. With the current victims on the deck judged and completed, they headed inside, and Ronald prayed to any deities listening that they didn’t come across that blasted demon.

Fuck this. Fuck these ‘dolls’. Fuck everything.

Ronald was now absolutely certain that Spears and Grell knew nothing about the true intentions of the Board. He was never going to succeed in this mission. He was barely even able to uncover any new information about the living corpses.

He sneezed all over the Records he was viewing, absently surprised that it didn’t get gross and wet. It wasn’t corporeal, of course it wouldn’t.

On the other side of the lifeboat – where did William even get this? – stood his boss, watching the film reel play out in front of him. As soon as it finished, he stamped the case complete in his ledger, and extended his Scythe to clip into another dead body.

It was therapeutic, in a way, to watch Mister Spears work. Grell, when she wanted to, got the job done quickly as well, but she didn’t take such care of the lives she assessed. She liked death and blood, thus she liked to reap, and that made her leagues better than most of their coworkers.

In contrast, Mister Spears was indifferent, quick, and completely focused on every single life that was placed into his hands. Ronald couldn’t help but watch him work, mesmerized. His brow was furrowed in concentration and, likely, irritation. Couldn’t fault him, though, he’d already worked a full day before coming here.

Ronald didn’t feel very guilty about it, it really had been out of his hands, and even Grell’s. She was an excellent fighter, so to think that she’d been beaten so thoroughly was nothing short of terrifying. Clearly, whoever had thought to assign them to this case had severely underestimated their opponent.

The spell was broken by the boat rocking as Grell hauled herself out of the water, collapsing in a heap. She whined and groaned for a moment, shuddering so hard that even William seemed to pity her for a moment.

“I’m not going back in there,” she declared through clattering teeth, pushing herself onto her knees and rubbing her arms to create some semblance of warmth. “If I missed one or two, one of you is going back to get them!”

“You’d better have gotten everyone, then,” Ronald mused, nudging a recently claimed corpse away from the boat. “If you make me swim, I’m never going to forgive you.”

“You should have been the one to go into the wreck in the first place! What a gentleman you turned out to be,” Grell spat, starting to wring the water out of her hair.

“Instead of arguing, get back to work,” William cut in sharply, before sighing, visibly relaxing. “We’re on the home stretch, so let’s get this over with and go home. I imagine you both would like to warm up sooner rather than later.”

“No kidding,” Ronald agreed, picking up one of the oars to look through the bodies floating around them. It was hard to tell which ones he’d already reaped, but at least he looked busy. And with Mister Spears there, it wouldn’t take much longer for them to finish up.

Three days after Campania, Ronald returned to the workplace for a meeting with Mister Spears. He didn’t imagine it would be good news, the Dispatch wasn’t known for being fair to their employees, but at least he’d be hearing it from Spears and not some insensitive asshole from Admin.

He knocked on the door, not entirely sure if he actually heard Spears calling him in or not, and entered anyway. He peeked in and closed the door behind himself, slowly strolling up to the manager’s desk.

“Take a seat,” William invited, gesturing to the empty chair, and Ronald silently complied. “I would like to start off with an apology. It was beyond unacceptable for a mere trainee to be shoved into that situation, and I assure you, none of this reflects badly on you or your career.”

Ronald was momentarily stunned, but shook himself out of it, attempting to play it off cool. “Yeah, no, I kind of guessed it was a mistake when everything went to- Um, when it all started going downhill, that is. The walking corpses, the deserter, the demon. We never stood a chance.”

“You’re quite right,” William cleared his throat, tapping his pen against his desk in thought. “But all things considered, your performance was exceptional. You remained calm, level-headed, and even amidst the chaos, both carried out your reaps and attempted to deal with the threats. The fact that they proved to be too powerful cannot be held against you.”

Ronald sat back, grinning proudly. “Even Miss Sutcliff couldn’t win against them, right? It wasn’t a job meant for a newbie like me. But we got every single soul in the end, even if we needed your help to make it go faster.”

“Though I would have liked to see a bit more motivation during those final few hours of collection, I also understand that you were exhausted. The fact that you continued carrying out your duty without so much as complaining stood out to me.” Spears paused, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. “I admit, I was wrong about you. I expected you to slack off during the entire investigation, but I was pleasantly surprised to see how detailed your reports were.”

What a way to stroke a man’s ego. Ronald excitedly pulled one leg over the other, intertwining his fingers and hooking them around the bend of his knee. “Of course, sir! I was gathering information the entire time. It was difficult, since I wasn’t used to people actually seeing me, but it was fun interacting with humans again after such a long time. It’s a shame I didn’t actually get much from it, even from people that were in the Aurora Society. I’ll just have to brush up on my spying skills for next time! I’m not letting that Undertaker guy get away a second time.”

“So you wish to keep helping in these investigations?” William quirked an eyebrow. “After such a disaster, I wouldn’t blame you for stepping back and going back to regular collections.”

“‘Course I want to help. I know it’s extra work and everything, but I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try to put a stop to it myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then. The Board is still considering what steps to take next, but I’ll ask them to put you on the team.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ronald gave him a genuine smile. The next moment, his shoulders sagged a little. “But, um, what about the entire ‘exam’ part, then?”

William’s brows twitched upwards with an amused quirk of his lips. “You’ll have to be better at connecting the dots if you want to be on the investigation team, Knox. You also have to be an agent for that.”

Ready to jump out of his seat, Ronald uncrossed his legs, bouncing in place with restless energy. “Really? Do you mean that, boss?”

“Naturally. It took some effort on my part to convince the others, considering the mission itself was relatively unsuccessful, but the facts speak for themselves. We learned a lot of new information, and all of the souls on the list were reaped. Yes, you needed help from myself and Sutcliff, but no one expected you to be facing a deserter – one that still had his Death Scythe, nonetheless – and a demon on the same day, all while responsible for over a thousand souls. You did much better than some senior agents would have done, and you’ve yet to even graduate. That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

“I told you you wouldn’t regret it!” Ronald grinned from ear to ear. “So when can I sign the papers?”

“I already have them prepared.” William opened a drawer, pulling out a plain manila folder and setting it on the table. He opened it and pulled out two sets of documents, each held together with a paperclip, one of which he handed to Ronald. “Please take your time to read through the contract and sign when you’re ready.”

Ronald walked out of the office thirty minutes later, eager for tomorrow as his first day as a fully fledged Grim Reaper. The only downside being that he would get his own cubicle and no longer have the option to hide out in Grell’s office, but even that had the silver lining of not being stuck listening to her extremely graphic fantasies.

Yeah, this was still a very good thing. He’d never been so proud of himself in his entire life or afterlife. He’d have to get Mister Spears a gift to properly thank him.

Chapter Text

Ronald was used to going out for drinks alone, or occasionally with a girl or two. Sometimes, Eric and Grell would invite him out. Tonight was different in several ways.

They weren’t at a crowded pub, for one. The drinks were more expensive, but that brings up his second point. He didn’t have to worry about buying his own drinks and sacrificing the money he should reasonably set aside for food. This event was held in celebration for his graduation, and everyone was pitching in to keep the drinks coming.

And, finally, the third difference. Alan was there, making this the first time he had seen the man outside of work. Ronald had honestly assumed he didn’t like him all that much, given how similar he was to Eric in both appearance and personality, and those two were often at each others’ throats.

Chatting with him now, though, it was clear that it was all in good fun. Though he looked completely serious and insisted on remaining professional at work, he was fun to banter with once he let loose. This was the first time Ronald had taken a proper look at him as a person rather than a weird coworker (though certainly not the weirdest. In fact, he seemed pretty boring compared to the others.)

Alan wore black eyeshadow. Just a bit, barely a touch of it around his eyes, but once he noticed it, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Alan wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of masculinity, giving Ronald the impression that he wouldn’t touch something so definitively feminine with a ten foot pole, but he wore it well and without shame. Ronald wasn’t exactly an expert on makeup, so there might be more than just the eyeshadow, but he wouldn’t know unless Alan told him, and truthfully he was a bit afraid to ask.

Until he was a couple drinks in, apparently.

“Oh?” Alan smiled, reaching up to take his glasses off so Ronald could take a better look. “I just do the eyeshadow, yeah. Sometimes I try to mix it up, but I can never get it to look good.”

“How’d you get the idea?” Ronald asked, leaning across the table. It looked so perfectly symmetrical that it made him a bit jealous. His hands must be incredibly steady.

“Well, after my graduation, I tried to prove myself to the seniors at every turn. It got out of hand pretty quickly with Grell and Eric when they started giving me challenges to complete. Sometimes I managed, sometimes I failed, and for each challenge, the loser would take a punishment, usually a dare.”

“And he was such a good model,” Grell snickered, waving a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes I’d just drag him out for drinks, but most of the time, I took the opportunity to dress him up and paint his face. He makes a very pretty girl!”

Eric snorted into his tankard as Alan sent her a glare with no heat behind it. “He did find a couple of looks I really liked, but I don’t get many occasions to warrant putting in so much effort. I’m not really brave enough to really make a fool of myself by wearing a full face out, anyway...”

Grell rolled her eyes, knocking back the rest of her drink so she physically wouldn’t be able to bite back.

“I also paint my nails,” Alan shrugged, sliding his glasses back on.

“Really?” Ronald tilted his head. “Show me?”

With a small smile, Alan tugged one of his gloves off, hovering his hand just above the table. Ronald slipped his hand under his, bringing it up so he could take a look at the small flower petals painted on the ring finger. “Whoa, this is intricate work. You do this yourself?”

Surprisingly, Alan shook his head. “Eric did these ones. Usually, I just have them in plain color, but these two take turns giving me prettier designs.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you, big guy,” Ronald laughed, startled, at Eric. The bastard just looked smug, taking his own glove off and showing it to Ronnie. Letting go of Alan’s hand, the blond took his time investigating Eric’s nails instead. A bold yellow, with the thumbs painted black. “So much more boring than Alan’s. Wish I’d seen yours first, now it just feels anticlimactic.”

Both the men pulled their gloves back on, and Ronald peered at Grell instead. “I like the shape of yours better, though.”

Grell beamed, slightly surprised that she was still remembered in this conversation. “Thank you! I get them manicured regularly!”

“I feel kind of left out now,” Ronald snorted, looking down at his own gloved hand. “Not that hard to hide, either, since we have to wear gloves anyway.”

“No reason to hide them,” Eric shrugged. “Not against any rules. And girls like men that are comfortable in their identity, even in full drag.”

“Think so?” Ronald hummed curiously. “Might have to try it then. What color do you think would suit me?”

“Orange or white,” Grell replied easily. “I can let you borrow some of mine if you want to try them out.”

Ronald huffed jokingly, “Surprised you have anything other than red.”

“It’s hard to make red stand out on red, darling.”

“If anyone could make it work, it’s you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, love,” Grell snickered with a proud grin.

On the very first day of May, Ronald went undercover once again. A ‘workhouse’ that was frequently sponsored by the Aurora Society, that released incredibly popular products and that people sang praises of. All in all, it was quite obviously suspicious. He was to go in, work there, and figure out what was going on.

He realized before even arriving there that he would stand out. Most workhouses were full of old and disabled people, and he could only appear as one of these. Thus, killing two birds with one stone, Ronald left his glasses behind. If he wanted to get rid of the Undertaker, he had to stop relying on them. The amount of time he’d spent chasing after them on the cruise ship was embarrassing. The man could have split his head in half, but no, he’d used his Scythe to remove his damn glasses instead. Ron refused to allow that to happen again.

So, half-blind and determined, Ronald got dressed in the clothes he’d been provided with, and got started. He had to admit, it was well-organized. He was tasked with hauling the materials inbetween workstations and storage, meaning he could see what the entire process of each product looked like. It was mostly blankets and pillows, but there were a couple of plushy toys as well. The designs were intricate but quick to make, making it both simply to produce but popular with the public.

It was easy enough to get used to the routine, though not so much to get used to not being able to see. That was why, two days in, Ronald completely missed William appearing in the courtyard during a break. Then, approaching, the man spoke up, and Ronald jumped out of his skin.

“You have not sent a report, Ronald Knox.”

It was a miracle (or perhaps William’s incredible forethought) that no one was close enough to notice Ronnie freak out over something no one else could see. Ronald still had to make sure no one spotted him talking to himself, though. “My god, boss, you gotta give me a warning before you come and haunt me...”

“I’d assumed you could not find a chance to send a pigeon, hence why I came myself to make sure that’s all it was,” William said with a slight smirk. “But seeing you lounging here, am I right to assume you are simply slacking off?”

“Huh? I didn’t find anything to report about, I figured it wasn’t necessary to waste your time,” Ronald shrugged one shoulder. “Especially since my arms are killing me... I’ve been carrying boxes all day.”

“Nevertheless, you have to, at the very least, send word that you are safe. We don’t keep a constant eye on you, therefore we rely on these reports as check-ins. Not taking the time to write ‘nothing to report’ saves a lot more of my time than not sending anything and forcing me to take the time to pay you a visit.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Ronald ducked his head apologetically. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, sir.”

“It’s alright, no one told you these things before, and that’s no fault on your part,” William nodded. “If the work is too much and you must tap out, you can also do that. I’ll find someone else for this position.”

Ronnie shook his head. “It’s alright. It’ll get better as I get used to it, and I want to help out wherever I can.”

“Even if this place is a dead end? Will you remain as determined as you are now?”

“Definitely. Even if I somehow end up only at the places that have no connection to the Undertaker, that doesn’t negate the effort I put in. I’d be disappointed, sure, but that’s just bad luck. Doesn’t really matter, as long as he’s dealt with.”

William nodded in approval, pushing his glasses up. “Very good. I will await your check-in tomorrow, then. Good luck, Mister Knox.”

“And good luck wrangling the other Reapers, Mister Spears,” Ronald winked, giving the man a little wave as he left.

Ronald stayed undercover for just under two weeks before he got the orders to withdraw. From what little he’d found out, it wasn’t connected to the Undertaker. The deserter wasn’t the leader of the Aurora Society, after all, it was to be expected some leads went cold.

He couldn’t even be upset about the whole ordeal, since it was an interesting experience, and got him away from the mind-numbing office work for a while. Now that he was back, though, he had to admit a small part of him missed the Reaper realm.

Grell, Eric and Alan welcomed him back with a couple of beers, and a lovely lady from Spectacles welcomed him into her bed later that night.

The morning after wasn’t too bad, either. He didn’t have much of a hangover, but Grell clearly did, quiet as she was. Ronald took the opportunity to hang out in Eric and Alan’s office instead, bringing the paperwork just in case Spears had something to say about it. He was still getting his work done, so what does it matter where he was doing it?

Actually, Ronald was so confident in William getting a sixth sense feeling that he wasn’t in his and Grell’s office that he doubled back to grab the box of chocolates he’d prepared for the man.

“Those for me?” Eric asked with a grin when he walked in.

“They’re for Mister Spears,” Ron shrugged, setting the chocolates and paperwork down on the very edge of Eric’s desk. He dragged an empty chair over, giving Eric a thankful nod when the man cleared a bit more room on the surface, probably messing up his organization in the process.

They made little conversation, barely awake and sorting through their reports, until the manager made his appearance.

“Why are you not at your workstation, Ronald Knox?” he demanded with a tired sigh.

“Cuz Grell’s in a mood,” Ron hummed, leaning back in his chair, the box of chocolates in hand, and held it out for the man. “Here, sir. These are for you. You know, as a thank you for all the help. I know I wouldn’t have gotten this position so soon if not for your efforts, and I wanted to show I appreciate it.”

William looked taken aback for a moment, but accepted the gift with a nod. “I hope you don’t expect any special treatment, going forward.”

“‘Course not, sir,” Ronald winked and gave the man a playful two-fingered salute. “Nor should you expect me to blow my paycheck on any more gifts for you! I don’t make a habit out of giving chocolates to men, you know.”

“I’m sure,” William sighed again, shaking his head as he walked down the hall. He never stayed for long, but Ronald was glad to have gotten him to spend a bit of time with them in order to accept the present.

Ronald ignored Eric’s teasing smirk for just long enough for the senior to get impatient. “You two sure seem to get along well.”

“Anyone would, if they did anything other than fart around,” Ronald hummed without even looking up at him.

Eric stood, closed the door and pulled Ronald’s chair towards Alan’s desk. “Then we better start being bad influences, we can’t have him expect everyone to work as hard as you!”

Ronald groaned, flailing uselessly in an attempt to get Eric to stop scooting his chair around. “It’s too early for pranks, just let me get this pile done first!”

“Not a chance,” Alan smiled, bringing two little inkpot-like bottles out of a bag on the ground next to him. They dully clicked against each other as he set them down on the table. After taking a closer look, Ronald realized it was nail polish.

“You guys could have just asked to do this last night.”

“But right now it feels like you don’t have a choice,” Eric laughed, leaning on the back of Ronald’s chair. “And we get to waste time. It was way too boring without you here, we have to punish you for leaving.”

“Don’t make it sound so gross,” Ronald scrunched his nose, then laughed. “But sure, do whatever you want. I’ll finish this work anyway, just wait and see.”

“Sure,” Alan chuckled, uncorking one of the bottles. The cap had a brush attached to it, and Ronald felt a bit stupid for not realizing that would be the case. It seemed so obvious.

Alan wordlessly demanded his hand, and Ronald gave it to him, watching as Alan started painting his fingers with a beautiful orange paint. The other bottle had white in it, exactly what Grell had recommended for him. It was unclear whether Alan and Eric just agreed with her, or if she’d been in on this plan.

Same as Eric’s when Ronald had first seen their nails, Alan painted all but the thumbs orange, making those white instead. It took no time at all for it to be done, but then he had to wait for it to dry. The orange was fine, it looked cute, but the white was thin and streaky. Ronald almost felt disappointed, right up until Eric had just left the room when Alan announced that it was time for the second layer.

Awkward as they usually were when left alone, just the two of them, the comfortable silence turned tense as Alan applied more color to Ronald’s nails.

“Hey, Alan...? I feel weird asking, but. Are you, like, okay?” Ronald asked, keeping his gaze locked onto the floor. “You’re usually so calm, but I’ve noticed there’s times when you freeze up around Eric. He doesn’t seem like the type to, but... He doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

Alan’s cheeks brightened with every word, shoulders steadily rising. He cleared his throat, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. I just get nervous.”

“Why, though? He’s a giant, sure, but a gentle one. Think you’d know that better than me,” Ronald snorted and lightly kicked Alan’s shin under the desk.

“Because I like him, Ronald,” Alan kicked him right back, huffing as he set the nail polish to the side. “Everyone knows that. Probably including Eric.”

Ronald tilted his head, watching his senior’s expression to gauge if he was joking. He wasn’t. “Oh. I... Well, actually, I should have expected it, huh? You guys paint your nails together, I don’t know if I’ve ever been given a more obvious hint.”

“What does that say about you, then?” Alan challenged.

“Hey, I had no choice in this,” Ronald raised his hands with a grin. “You guys forced me into it.”

Chuckling, Alan shook his head. “Bet you’d paint your nails with Will, though.”

“Yeah, well, I have eyes. Who wouldn’t?”

Alan raised a brow at the easy admission. “I, um. I suggest taking some time to think about that for a bit. Might discover some stuff about yourself.”

Ronald tilted his head, shrugging one shoulder. “I wasn’t really serious about that. But if there was a guy who could convince me, it’s definitely him. But not in the way Grell talks about him, you know?”

“I think that can go unmentioned. Only Grell thinks of him like that.”

As Eric entered the room again, the conversation shifted again. Ronald, once his nails had dried, managed to get back to work and, suck it, successfully avoiding overtime. He was also sure Eric would try other things to get him to stay late, but that was a problem for future Ronald.