Did you smell it, senpai? Just as we ported into the garden? What was a demon doing there? Was it your Sebas-chan?

D'you think that little brat Phantomhive has sent Sebby after our Eric again, Ronnie? He doesn't act without reason, and he has no reason to waste time on a dying Reaper. Dear Sebas-chan rarely acts independently, breach of contract you know, but...what in the Four Realms would he want there?... Do not mention this to Will, dear, you know how he feels about demons. Cover for me.

...Sebby, you smirking cockroach, what business have you with Eric Slingby? Everything you ever wanted to do to him has been done by his own people! In spades! If you even...I will paint your blood on every...

Be silent, Sutcliff. I visited him out of respect. He and his fierce little partner had a Contract. Slingby continues to honor that Contract, even though his partner is dead. He intends to honor it even when his soul is dragged before the Seat of Justice and down to the Pit, and I could not tempt him to abandon it. If he is so lonely that he welcomes a conversation with such as I, whose fault is that? They watch him, but only on a strict schedule. Can you not be bothered to time a few visits to avoid them? Is this your vaunted friendship? For shame, Reaper! Shame on a fair-weather friend!

Slingby's own case of Thorns had remained quiescent until the funeral. It was as though the last kiss, the sound of the coffin lid being nailed down, the sight of dirt being cast into the grave, had brought the curse roaring to life.

When Alan had fallen, he was lifted and held. To his last agonized gasp he was fed, washed, and cared for; comforted, read to, wrapped up warmly; allowed to act on his own whenever possible, but with help only a few steps away.

Living alone, Slingby lay where he fell, be it inside or out, sunshine or rain, until he was able to rise by himself. Supervisory inspections increased from a seven- to a three-day interval, but the inspectors were forbidden to interfere. Staffing those teams was tricky; nobody who would help Slingby up, nobody who would kick him while he was down.

To William T. Spears, Director, London Dispatch
Re: Eric Slingby

Sir:

I feel it is necessary to inform you that today, our inspection team arrived just in time to put out a kitchen fire. Mr Slingby had an attack while cooking. He is unharmed but still unconscious. Due to the smoke, we felt it justified to move him into the hallway. We recommend disconnecting the stove and providing meal delivery...

Inspection Report Form J-P 444 101 B, 11-5-88, comments section: ...change in habits: None. Appetite indifferent, slow weight loss continues. Walks the house at night. Outward signs of grief have abated somewhat. Sleep minimal. Subject displays no duplicity, hostility or threatening behavior. Mild aberrant behavior... Talks to deceased when he thinks himself unobserved.

Some Superiors had proposed that Slingby should be jailed, the grave removed and the property repurposed. Why should this criminal remain in the house, now that the man he had been set to nurse had died? What if he managed to escape into the mortal realm to become an embarassment there? Why permit him to live at all, this mass murderer, this betrayer of all honorable Reapers, this madman who had disobeyed Rules?

This officious posturing was quashed from Above; the Judgement stood.

William T. Spears had nothing to say on the subject. This was entirely above his humble station. It was not, however, entirely beyond his understanding. He read the Inspection reports as they arrived, sometimes managing to access the preliminary drafts. Although he knew himself awkward with any form of human emotion, he could intuit the deep friendship between Humphries and Slingby. Those days in retirement had been the happiest of Humphries' brief existence. Even had his Thorns remained in abeyance, Slingby would not have run. His partner was there, on the hill beyond the house. No shackles or walls could hold him more securely. The nurse was now the gravekeeper.

Spears had spoken with one of the supervisory team, a man who had taken an interest in horticulture during a long assignment near Holland Park. This Reaper had been most impressed with the garden which lay between the house and the gravesite. There was quite a bit about "texture" and "fragrance" and "succession planting", which boiled down to this; in every week of the season there would be something blooming, something sweet upon the breeze, something new beginning as something else faded. Even in winter there would be "visual interest", evergreens and the heather that bloomed even before the earliest bulbs.

Alan had created a place of beauty to surround his partner when he was gone. Eric could stand in the garden and feel his partner's presence in every pathway, flowerbed and stone. The other sides of the house were well laid out but more sparingly planted, for those times when memory was too much to bear. Upon each path a shaded wooden park bench invited the weary to rest. The sound of falling water relaxed and soothed the soul. It was all so pleasant that the inspectors scheduled their visits so as to picnic on those benches - after sending Slingby inside, of course; they must not be seen fraternizing with the prisoner.

Spears privately concluded that the suggestion to close the house had come from a Superior who coveted it. Certainly a proposal to send a handyman around as needed was approved without comment.

He knows that Sutcliff and Knox visit the place regularly. This is not expressly forbidden in the Judgement. It allows Spears to turn Knox into an additional informant.

He takes an interest, Sir, but they've stopped his newspapers, so I read 'em and report to him. He says there are rumbles in the Human Realm that look like real trouble in about twenty, twenty-five years. The Crowned Houses have been marrying cousins for way too long, some of the younger ones are a right rum lot. He says he bets that class sizes at the Academy are going to start rising over the next few years, and when the percentage of successful graduates also climbs, look out...

Do you know, Sir, when he thinks he's alone, he pours his tea into two cups? Drinks from one and talks to the other as if Alan-Senpai is there? Goes up and talks to the gravestone too. He's always outside unless the weather is really foul. Sits on the bench and looks up the hill. It's— it's sad, Sir. It's hard. Senior Sutcliff gave him a jacket, Sir, he shivers in the rain, and those bloody inspectors took it away. Contraband, they said. Isn't there something we can do—?

There was indeed, and Spears did it. There would be a jacket and a jumper and a canvas canopy over that bench, and a rules review for the inspection staff. Nothing in the Judgement required Slingby's demise to be expedited; quite the opposite, actually. Nor was any additional torment called for. He added a stiff note to Agent Smithers' personnel folder. Inventing new restrictions out of a desire to demonstrate power was contemptible.

There would also be newspapers. Knox would bring a weekly report back. Spears owed Slingby for that warning. Twenty years would be enough time to educate and promote Knox out of the front lines. Spears could surreptitiously trade Slingby's conclusions for favors, to make his requests seem to originate from other people. He must not appear to be meddling; he could be demoted and replaced without warning.

He was careful to be seen to be very busy in his regular duties. But he also cultivated the acquaintance of elder Reapers who had done battlefield collections and might in the future be willing to give training seminars. His people would not go unprepared into war.

Inspection Report Form J-P 444 101 B, 25-5-88, DRAFT VERSION 1 comments section: ...Change in habits: Subject has begun to keep his shirt collar buttoned. Thorns are spreading over left shoulder and throat. Complains of feeling cold. Additional clothing approved in spite of warmer weather... Cheered by regular visits from former co-workers. These visits have been declared acceptable per the terms of the Judgement so shut it, Smithers. Very pleased to be allowed newspapers. Duplicity, hostility or threatening behavior: None.

Inspection Report Form J-P 444 101 B, 25-6-88, comments section: ...Change in habits: Night walking ended. Subject still climbs uphill to the grave every day. Attacks continue to increase in frequency and severity. Poor recovery... Appetite poor. Weakening. Duplicity, hostility or threatening behavior: None. Very interested in his newspapers and discusses them with his visitor Mr Knox.

Inspection Report Form J-P 444 101 B, 22-7-88, DRAFT VERSION 1 comments section: ...Change in habits: None. Attacks unchanged in frequency and severity... Rules have been relaxed to allow inspectors to intervene if subject is found fallen in a potentially dangerous location, such as halfway up that damn hill in the rain. They should have cremated the partner and parked his urn on the mantelpiece. Duplicity, hostility or threatening behavior: None. Seems content though usually in pain. For some reason, he is recommending we study the German, French, and Russian languages; possible mild derangement? Not yet seen in Death Lists.

Inspection Report Form J-P 444 101 B, 24-8-88, comments section: ...Change in habits: Subject sleeping more, difficulty rising upon awakening. Attacks continue to increase in frequency and severity. Recoveries slow and incomplete. Sits in the garden daily but unable to visit the gravesite. Duplicity, hostility or threatening behavior: None. He recommended that we all look to our next postings, as he is failing. Suggested we seek permanent positions in Admin, Spectacles, Scythes. Said Smithers best suited for Collections. Smiled - possibly sarcasm?

Inspection Report Form J-P 444 101 B, 31-8-88, comments section: Subject's name has appeared in Death List, assigned to London Dispatch, which will assume oversight for subject's final days. Supervisory inspections cease as of today.

"Sutcliff, please purchase a plain pine coffin. To accomodate a tall man, about six foot two inches, standard build, underweight. Tell them to hold it ready for delivery upon demand in two days. Headstone to be arranged later. Use a false name, pay in cash and claim it on your Miscellaneous Expense form as storage containers. Tell Knox to arrange a grave-digging detail as before, this burial to be at Humphries' right hand. He is to choose five helpers who will not gossip. Threaten them with God's wrath and mine."

"Oh, Will! Oh, dear. How sad. Yes, I will see to it. Poor Eric. But Will, please - "

"I will not ask it. You were once his mentor. It would be inappropriate and cruel. He is my veteran, and it is my duty to see him properly collected.

"And Grell - this must be done quietly. No attention drawn to this at all, because I have arranged to falsify the date on one particular copy of the Death List. There is a person of rank who hopes to acquire the property for personal use; if he succeeds, Humphries' body will be moved to some distant graveyard and Slingby will lie in a potter's field. I have almost completed proceedings to have Reapers' Rest declared an official recovery facility for Dispatch agents with severe injuries or combat fatigue. We're going to need it badly in the future. I expect final approval this week. Once the property is secured our friends will remain there together, as safe as we Reapers can make them."

If Fate uses you as a boot scraper, then it is only right and proper to resolve to die with your teeth in Fate's ankle. -Alan Humphries, upon being chided for recklessness; followed by, "I need a drink and you need a brawl. Shall we stop at the Mended Drum?"

The morning was warm and bright. Eric Slingby sat on the garden bench and gazed up the hill. A breeze wandered by, bringing a hint of the rose which had begun a new bloom. A trellis to the left was covered in blue flowers. This afternoon all its flowers would be white. He suspected it was one of Alan's subtle jokes - two different vines planted together, just to make the occasional inspector doubt his own memory. Little slyboots. He wished he could take some flowers up to the grave. So weary. He was worn to a thread. But Alan's presence was very strong down here today; it was almost possible to see him out of the corner of his eye - almost...

He'd given Ronnie everything he could, to pass on to Spears. The Four Horsemen were getting ready to ride. When a powerful military ruler surrounded himself with yes-men and then believed everything they told him, disaster usually followed. One such had just been crowned. In a few years there would be another. Give 'em a couple of decades to lose all touch with reality and they'll start thinking they're invincible. Gott mit uns. Next thing you know, all their surviving neighbors will be shooting back.

So tired. Even the sunlight seemed too heavy to bear.

He'd called Ronnie's attention to the Maxim gun - poor kid turned green - and a couple of other recent weaponry developments. And trenches. Conservative generals would insist on sending horse and foot troops against this stuff because tradition, also known as habit, was easier than thinking, and stupidity knew no limits. And where soldiers went, disease followed. When the fighting ceased, the soldiers would carry contagion home.

Cold. Cloudy? Dimmer.

Ronnie was too young and inexperienced yet to read human nature, but Eric had showed him the trick of it, and after living through fifty or so years of bad history the boy might develop the knack. If he survived. Battlefields are a demons' banquet. Spears had been warned. He was a slave-driver but he protected his people. There was still some time to prepare.

The new century was going to be a disaster. Grell would love it. Not good for her though. Spears and Knox might be able to keep her on the rails.

Soon he would join Alan. Alan. If Alan, an unforgiven Reaper, walked in this garden - and he did; he did - then it was possible that Eric might be permitted to walk here with him, or to go with him wherever they might be sent. Alan kept his promise, had not left him. He had promised never to leave Alan, and never would unless the Highest commanded it. And then he would put up a fight, however hopeless - but the common fundamental sin of all Reapers was despair. He would hope, no matter how the past stacked up against him, and keep his promise.

Eric

ah dizzy his chest ached so bad

oh. that was. sharp. as knives

Eric

sometimes he could almost see

Eric

...Alan?

Come with me now, and rest.