Oh cripes. I'm soooooo sorry this took so long x_X

I shouldn't make excuses, but a lot has been going on! College... college...oh and did I mention college ._. Yeah. As well, my darling Undertaker (XiggyBean here of FF) was very ill for almost a week, and she is the one whom I originally started writing this story for. Literally a day after she got better, my dear friend whom some of you may know, Maverrat, went ill! Luckily, the both of them are both better for the most part, and today (err... yesterday now xD; ) was my Undertaker's 20th birthday. So... I had to get this chapter out for her tonight!
On with the show~!

xXx

I had to test the waters now, I had to know.

"Ah, don't forget my dear, roses stand for love."

"Well yes, of course." The mortician replied calmly, his grasp on me unwavering, and in fact, growing a little more possessive.

"Then why didn't you simply say so, Undertaker?"

"With all due respect, m'lady, I don't think it's necessary for me to verbally express my every pondering." he put a hand to his own cheek thoughtfully. "I would have no business as an informant if I were to have such a habit."

"Ahh, I don't mean to be forward…" I lied through my teeth. "Although your mind may be a dangerous garden to make passage through, I'm not one to let my curiosity lie in wait."

He nuzzled my cheek at his, and I could feel his smile against my flesh. I found myself smiling as well.

"You never cease to surprise me, Grell Sutcliff."

Had he ever spoken my full name before so directly? No, he couldn't have. He had said my name is light passing, but I would have remembered such an intentioned, lovely sound. Mmm, I could defiantly get used to that voice cooing me name. Calling it, crooning, saying it in fervor…

"I do not like to represent 'love' with an item as fickle as a pretty flower."

"What do you mean?" I inquired softly, my thoughts interrupted as I tilted my head back to eye him as my interest only peaked further.

"I like my rose buds a little more thorny. Something with a lasting impression." he chuckled in return, stroking a bony hand through my hair lightly. I simply raised a brow.

"Flowers wilt…" he continued, his lips pressed against my scalp. "Their colors fade. What was once romantic and radiant becomes dull. That which is so easily given is not worth one's while. Flowers of this kind are more suited for graves than courters, for they are only indicative to lovers of a fickle taste."

He began to pluck petals from the most blossomed of roses in the center of the bouquet, gathering them in his palm and then letting them slip from his fingers, trickling like bloody beads off the end of an ever voracious blade. He smiled down at me again, the corners of his mouth almost splitting in glee.

I briskly withdrew from him then, turning on my heel roughly and held the flowers out to him in response; I didn't want them now. I knew if I opened my mouth, I would start screaming and I was uncertain if I would stop.

How dare he mock me in such a fashion? I am no easy woman! I am Grell Sutcliff! I am a lady of class and standards! Simply because I am forward with my feelings did not mean I was to be regarded with such casual, petty intentions. Oh no, the Undertaker was a handsome thing, but I had decided then and there that I was no longer to be anyone's doormat; not to any boss, any butler, any blood lusting lady killer, and certainly not to this old loon!

"Grell?" He questioned, his smile fading slightly as he looked up at me from the offering.

"Take them back." I growled. "I certainly don't want such rubbish. If you are so certain I am so easily swayed, mortician, you are sorely mistaken."

He was quiet. Studying me. But he did not take the flowers, and this was so maddening that I threw the bouquet to his heeled boots, petals ripping and stems splitting against the impact of the earth. How quickly the tables had turned on my own game. He had no feelings for me, I was a play thing! A toy! How foolish was I to muse that this man held true emotions for anything, let alone anyone? Let alone someone like me?

I may have been angrier with myself than him, but it didn't really matter.

"Did you really think you should say such things to me, and I would take it lightly? You're insinuating that I'm loose, that I'm willing to give my body and my affections to anyone who simply asks! " I snarled. "Is that all I am to you? A source of unbridled folly? Is that all I am to anybody? Is everyone's opinion of me so low?"

Oh no, this is what I had feared. The flow had started, and now it wasn't going to stop.

"I am not cheap! I am not incompetent! And damn it all, I will never speak of love again if this is all that can be considered of me!"

Stop it Grell, stop it! He doesn't care, you sound like a fool-!

"Do you know what William said to me when I was on trial for Jack the Ripper? That I was a hypocrite. That I had condemned those woman for being prostitutes, when I myself acted as a common whore, and that nobody would take me seriously."

I paused for a moment, closing my eyes tightly as I felt the knife twist in my chest at the memory. I still could not believe that William had fully meant what he had said, but he had never been one to mince words.

Even so, it did not lessen the pain.

"I didn't kill those women for giving away their bodies. I killed them for disrespecting life. For discarding the thing that the late Madam and myself could never bare, and would give anything for! We destroyed them for taking granted the value of living! And when I tried to tell William this, he told me I was disgusting. That I was insane to think I had the right to make such judgments. But what right does he have to tell me I'm wrong?"

I couldn't stop.

"I'm sick of being the person who gets stepped on simply because I'm comfortable expressing myself! Because I'm a lady in a world of filthy vermin who only care to mock what they don't know, what they don't understand! They laugh and sneer and taunt and jibe, and they don't know the first thing about who I am or what I'm capable of! I am the same Shinigami they attended the academy with, the same one who sat with them in their desks and in their dormitories! I learned to reap and judge souls amongst the rest of them!"

Undertaker stared back at me, his eyes attentive and seemingly unaffected. I kept screaming; I didn't care who heard me now.

"So why am I so ridiculed? Discarded and struck down, hair twisted and face smacked and socially scathed? Because I don't let fear hold me back? Because I speak my mind and express my contempt for those who don't appreciate life and beauty? Does this make me a total lunatic?" I was breathing hard and ragged now, hair falling in front of my face. I made no move to move the strands of crimson, for my vision was going red with or without the distraction.

"Do they think that I don't know? That I don't hear what the other Shinigami say about me, or that I really feel nothing in response to their unfounded slander? I know I have faults! I know that I'm brash, impulsive! But does that really make me so terrible that everyone must constantly throw it in my face? To turn the other cheek when I walk by and whisper, 'There he-she-it-that thing is; there's the department's designated fuck up'." I snarled, lowering my eyes dangerously. Tears were stinging behind my eyes now, tears I most certainly did not want him to see.

"I am capable of love. I am capable of feeling, really, truly feeling. Just because I have infatuations that I willingly express—just because I'm not a cookie cutter reaper—That doesn't mean—that most certainly doesn't mean I'm so worthless—that I—"

I was saying all these things, and yet, Undertaker looked entirely unfazed. It wasn't like he could have been expecting this. Why wasn't he responding? Why wouldn't he say something, or hit me, or anything? Anything! I just needed to know he was hearing me!

Before I had completely contemplated doing so, I felt the sting of my bare hand against the Undertaker's cheek, my varnished red nails drawing rivulets of blood in streaks across his face.

Oh no… what had I done now? I was going to drive away one of the very few people who actually seemed to enjoy my company. Even if I was only something he enjoyed to tamper with… anything was better than solitude. And heavens knew that if any of my superiors where to found out that I had struck the Undertaker again…

It was then that I realized he was laughing. Laughing! Crowing about wildly like the maniac he was! (-why had I even thought for a moment that he would react any other way was beyond me.) And with every deep breath he took and his increasing volume between each squawk, my rage began to boil again. Any remorse I felt quickly dissipated as I raised a hand to strike him again.

I had barely begun to let my arm approach it's target before his hand grabbed my wrist, shockingly strong and tight; tighter than he had ever held me before. His eye's met mine for a split second before he drew me in close, and I felt a pair of soft, slender lips pressed against my own. I couldn't remember the last time someone had kissed me like that, if ever at all.

Is this what it felt like to be desired? To be kissed with fire and scalded by the sinfully delicious touch?

Oh yes, oh yes- waitwaitwait!

No!

I was angry! I was furious! I was-

"M'lady, I've made a grave mistake." the madman murmured in my ear, fearlessly pressing me closer to him despite his lecherous pun, his other arm having found it's way around my waist again. He was surprisingly strong for someone with such a frail looking body. Then again, I had to consider he was a Shinigami legend. My, those robes of his were easily misleading…

"You certainly have." I replied tersely, attempting to break free of his hold on me, baring my teeth at him in a feral manner. He had better think again if he thought I was against using them to my advantage. "And stop calling me 'm'lady'! I am most defiantly not your lady! Who do you think you are? Let go of me right now! Let go-"

He was kissing me again in reply, and no more gently than the first time. He claimed my lips roughly, making his way down my neck in sharp, biting kisses. I could barely catch my breath as he did this, squirming in vain.

"Will you listen now?" he chuckled breathlessly against my collarbone as I gasped.

I simply growled in reply, knowing that putting up a fight would bring me no closer to my freedom, and it was not as if I really had anywhere to go. He wasted no time continuing, wise enough to know that I would not be agreeable for long.

"Grell, my dear, those are all the things I absolutely adore about you-"

"Beg pardon?" I barked, cutting him off, which promptly brought his lips to mine for a third time. Why did he keep doing that?

I didn't know if I absolutely loved or entirely hated this.

"Shh, if you please. What I mean to say is… I did not compare the roses to love because I do regard you so highly. I brought you those flowers as a token of comfort, as I believed they were something you would enjoy. I know that you value life, and therefore it is people like you that see the beauty in things that are so fleeting and hold them ever so dearly. I was not saying you are fickle… I was saying you are all that is eternally beautiful, both in acknowledgment of its form and in practice."

His voice was growing softer each word that passed his lips. I was no longer struggling, and was going limp in his grasp, both from exhaustion and feeling mesmerized by what I was hearing.

"I love your rambunctious nature, your harsh criticism, your dedication to your art and your belief in beauty being the equivalent of all that is truth. I am continuously amazed by your strength, and the will you have to take matters into your own hands, even when you know it's going to cause a fuss. A little bit of trouble makes for a healthy amount of worry, but you throw caution to the wind as well. You let your red hot spirit lead the way, the intuition of your soul… a skill lost to most reapers today, as they've been reduced to handbooks and the need to uniform themselves. There is no defined mold for a reaper, and as much as William would like to impose that belief upon you by all means necessary, as every soul is different, so should each reaper be to best accommodate the needs of the individual."

Was he really telling me I was a good reaper? That I was well suited for my job? Exceptional, even? That what I did… was truly an art, as I had always considered it to be?

His lips had found their way to my neck, tracing up and down the flesh in fleeting kisses, covering every inch of the left side before moving to the right as he continued.

"I adore the passion you have for what you do. And some days, I'm almost envious that I have given up reaping. But to see you smiling brightens this scarred old soul, in a way I haven't felt for what seems like centuries. I can't get enough of you, so full of enthusiasm and reckless abandon. What I enjoy most is your laughter; that smile of yours is a captivating thing. I know your teeth put off most people, but I love them. The real danger you are is portrayed in your grin, straightforward, like the rest of you. It was only when I realized that your smile was not always honest that I was displeased. You are quite the actress, Grell… but you cannot fool me. As time has passed, I've watched you… I've seen a spiral down into a state of despair almost, and I simply can not stand by and watch that light of yours diminish."

He stood back now, with what seemed like a bit of difficulty. I could tell he still wanted to be close, but I suppose he needed to know that I was alright with this, that I was hearing what he was saying and comprehending.

"What you have is so rare…. and that is why I offer the deepest of apologies, m'la-" he stopped himself. "-Grell."

I didn't know what to say, how to react. I felt so numb all over, was I even breathing? Well, it wasn't exactly necessary to breathe, though it was a bit of a natural habit for most Shinigami nonetheless.

"No, I... I'm sorry. I take back what I said." I replied weakly, my throat dry, voice coming out hoarse. I put a hand to his cheek gently, the cuts I had caused having quickly begun to heal, though the marks were still entirely present.

A silence followed my words, a silence I needed to fill. I didn't know if I was forgiven so easily, but I hoped he would accept my small apology.

There were so many things I wanted to say, so many things I needed to get off my chest, so many questions I wanted to ask. He was listening to me, and understood, and that meant he cared, at least a little.

I could have covered pages and pages of books til they filled the shelves and littered the floors of the Shinigami library of how lovely I felt, and how deeply I was grateful to hear such things. They were sincere, weren't they? They surely seemed so.

Oh Undertaker, please, tell me you really are crazy enough to handle a lady like myself…

And despite all the blessed, wonderful feelings I could have expressed, I stupidly asked the first thing that came to my emotionally fogged mind.

"How did you even know I was going to be here?" I managed to whisper, afraid of still sounding like I was about to break down again.

Undertaker seemed to accept that I was not exactly in any state to continue talking about all that had just been passed between the two of us, and contemplated the question for a moment before smiling at me knowingly. He kissed the one tear that had managed to escape as it slipped down my rosy cheek, leaving a long red streak in it's wake.

"Now that, my dear… is a question that requires a bit of payment."

xXx

B'awww Grelllllll.
Ohohoho~ I do wonder what Undertaker is implying. -smirk-

Anyways, I will be attending Zenkaicon as Grell/BloodyButler!Grell and possssssibly ShinigamiAcademy!Grell on March 18th, 19th and 20th. If any of you are going to be there, give me a shout! I'd love to meet up with any fellow FanFic-goers!