Author's Note: Yes, it's Anncatz' GRAND RETURN to Fit to Wear Red, after an incredibly long absence. To any former readers who have discovered this update: Your patience with me and devotion to this story is greatly appreciated, and I owe you an apology. This piece of fanfiction was well-received from the start, and it was not right of me to abandon my fans. Though I cannot promise to publish updates at a consistent pace in the future, I assure you that Fit to Wear Red is not dead! That said, I hope that you enjoy this long-awaited new chapter.

PART 12: The Sacred Aisles of Death

That afternoon, the London Branch looked as tall and grand as ever—the ever-composed symbol of order. Angelina Durless, just before beginning her shift, stood outside of the building and studied it. Such a proud building it was, priding itself on upholding the divine order, yet she knew that it was quickly becoming a scene of chaos—much of it because of her own presence there. Her calculated plan to ruin Grell Sutcliff was in motion now, moving at a steady pace. She could only wonder how the infamous reaper was faring today and how the London Branch was coping with him.

When she stepped inside, she noticed that the office had a restless air about it. The soundtrack was one of pens that urgently scratched onto paper, workers who nervously tapped and paced, and frantic whispers that danced throughout the room. Even the most stalwart employees were a bit off-track, distracted by the atmosphere around them. It was in this tense and troubled setting that Angelina Durless began her shift.

She hunched over her paperwork just as she did every day, her short, red hair falling forward as she wrote, but she was nevertheless alert and attuned to her surroundings. She focused on the whispers that circulated around her, listening intently for some clue as to the nature of this restlessness.

Suddenly, a rowdy voice rang above the whispers. "Hey there, angel!"

Angelina immediately recognized the voice. Ronald Knox, characteristically youthful and animated, was unmistakable as he leaned against Angelina's desk.

"What do you want?" the woman huffed with disinterest.

"Rumor has it that Mr. Spears is in a bit of trouble this morning," Ronald said with a feisty spark in his eyes.

Now he had her attention. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. A bunch of the higher-ups showed up unannounced this morning and called him into the boardroom for an impromptu meeting. He's been in there for at least an hour now. It's weird, don't you think? Everybody's been whispering about it."

Angelia's vibrant, red lips curled up with cruel entertainment. "It appears that Mr. Sutcliff is absent today," she remarked. "Do you think that there's a connection?"

"Hey, maybe you're right," Ronald acknowledged with a nod. "It wouldn't be the first time that Mr. Sutcliff caused trouble for the entire branch."

The woman let out a curt little laugh. "This could be quite the scandal."

"Let's just hope that it doesn't come back to bite us," Ronald said. "I still have to take you out for a drink."

"I haven't agreed to that, Mr. Knox," the woman reminded him.

Ronald simply chuckled at her response. "You haven't agreed to it yet," he teased, "but you will."

Angelina sighed and shook her head. "Your persistence is astonishing."

"It's one of my many attractive qualities!" Ronald beamed with sincere pride.

Angelina rolled her eyes, then turned her attention away from the pest beside her. She grabbed her pen, intent to resume her work, but her pesky coworker snatched the pen right out of her hand.

"Let me tell you the real reason why I came over here," Ronald coyly began, twiddling the pen between his fingers.

"Other than harassing me?" Angelina muttered, unamused.

"Look, we're at a loss for what to do while Mr. Spears is in the boardroom. It's making the reapers antsy, you know? So, several of us have decided to take a break right now to try and settle our nerves. You should come to the workers' lounge with us. Sit. Chat. Have a cup of coffee."

The woman paused, taking a moment to study the room. It was evident that the entire office was shaken, and all of the nervous tapping and pacing might distract her. Still, she refused to give in to a womanizer like Ronald. "You are well aware that my shift just began, Mr. Knox. It's much too soon for me to take a break. I'm afraid I must decline."

"Suit yourself," Ronald dismissed with a shrug, but before he turned away, he gently patted Angelina on the shoulder. "If you start to feel restless, don't hesitate to join us."

"I'll be fine," she grumbled in response.

Ronald smiled. "I know," he spoke sweetly. "You're a capable woman, Angelina. I admire that about you." With that, he took his leave.

Angelina watched him as he walked down the hallway. Something in his voice was different when he paid her that compliment; it was earnest, rather than idle flattery. She shook her head and returned her attention to her paperwork.

Ronald, meanwhile, slipped into the workers' lounge and let out a puff of relief. He hated tense environments, and a warm cup of coffee was exactly what he wanted at this moment. He waltzed over to the coffeepot and poured himself a drink. Just as he was about to take a sip, he heard a voice from behind him.

"Yo! Ronald!"

Ronald set down his cup and turned around. Before him was a male reaper, short in stature, with a scrawny build and wild, shaggy hair. He wore rounded glasses and a white lab coat, and a tie hung loosely from his neck.

"Othello?" Ronald asked in surprise. "I haven't seen you for a long time!" He placed a hearty clap on the shorter reaper's back.

Othello stumbled forward, his glasses nearly falling from his face.

"Damn," Ronald laughed. "You're as fragile as ever."

"Yes, well," Othello said as he straightened his posture and adjusted his glasses, "you know us forensics geeks. We're not exactly the strong and sturdy type."

Ronald gestured to an empty table, inviting Othello to join him. "So, what brings you to this neck of the woods? Is your department concerned about Mr. Spears' meeting too?"

Othello shrugged. "Not particularly," he remarked with indifference. "Whenever there's an issue, it usually involves the Retrieval Division, not the Forensics Department. We don't see much cause for alarm."

"What, then? You hardly ever leave the laboratory."

Othello chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a funny story, actually."

Ronald cocked his head to the side, curious. "Oh?"

"Well, you see," the frail reaper began, "I ventured to the General Affairs Department, because I needed to dig up some data from an older case, and the ladies there asked me to come speak to you." He let out another anxious laugh.

Ronald took a sip of his coffee. "Really? What for?"

"They… um… How to put this…" Othello stumbled over his words. Stalling for time, he pulled a small container from the pocket of his lab coat. "Licorice?"

"No thanks," Ronald declined. "It doesn't really complement the coffee."

"Right," Othello mumbled as he popped a small piece of licorice candy into his mouth. He continued awkwardly, "They miss you."

"Really?" Ronald asked with a chuckle. "That's why they sent you?"

Othello nodded. "They say that you haven't been visiting the General Affairs Department as often as you used to."

"Huh, I didn't realize it," Ronald remarked, taking on a pensive expression. "I suppose I have bigger goals these days."

"Oh?" Othello grinned, his cunning eyes focused on Ronald. "Are you finally going to take your work seriously?"

"Of course not," Ronald laughed. "I'm talking about Angelina Durless. She's the finest dame in the entire London Branch."

"Watch your tongue, Ronald," Othello warned, glancing anxiously about the room. "To talk about a coworker that way—"

Ronald boldly met the other reaper's eyes, challenging him. "If you don't agree, then tell me I'm wrong."

Othello's face flushed with red hues. "Well… um… I'm not acquainted with her personally, but… I've seen her…"

"Ah-ha! See? Even you can't deny it!" Ronald exclaimed victoriously. "But, honestly, Othello, I mean it in the most complimentary way." A dreamy look came across his face. "Angelina is beautiful… intelligent… talented… strong… fierce… and we work in the same department!"

The small scientist studied Ronald for a moment. "My goodness, you must be smitten with her. I've never seen you act like this before."

Ronald's pea-green eyes maintained their faraway look. "I guess I am," he admitted. Then, he suddenly snapped back to reality. "So, don't get any ideas, buddy! I've already asked her out, and we're going on a date any day now!"

Othello skeptically raised an eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that she would ever take interest in a lecher like you."

"Lecher? Why, you misunderstand me, dear Othello. I just like to have fun."

"Yeah, sure," Othello remarked cynically, "we all know what kind of fun you like to have."

"Think whatever you like," Ronald said dismissively. "If you ask me, life is a party; my job is to make the most of it. We'll see which one of us is happiest in the end."

"No, Ronald, your job is to reap souls and file the paperwork," Othello corrected. "It's the most important job in the Dispatch Society."

"Yeah, yeah. Save the lecture for another day. You're starting to sound like one of them." Ronald gestured to the many clean-cut, stiff-bodied suits in the room.

"I am 'one of them,' and you are too, you know."

Ronald rolled his eyes.

"Anyway…" Othello paused to pop another piece of licorice candy into his mouth. "…what should I tell the ladies in the General Affairs Department?"

"Tell them the truth, if you like," Ronald said with a shrug. "I don't care."

Othello shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I doubt they'll enjoy hearing that news."

Ronald tilted his chair backward, leaning casually against it. "Too bad. The truth is that Ronald Knox only has eyes for one woman these days."

Meanwhile, the boardroom of the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society held a heavy air about it. A number of staunch, suited men sat on one side of a long table, their sharp, green eyes turned downward as they reviewed a packet of important documents. On the other side of the table, there sat a solitary reaper, his head raised and his expression empty. Several minutes passed as he waited, coolly, for the response from the Board.

"William T. Spears of the Management Division, London Branch."

William did not reply, but his eyes flickered as he gave an attentive nod.

"Your written reports are as astute as ever, and your effort is a commendable one, but we cannot ignore the magnitude of the situation. The fact of the matter is that London nearly lost several souls to demons last night. The job of a Shinigami is, by definition, to reap the scheduled souls in a timely manner, so that they are not consumed by demons. Surely you are aware of this."

A monotone reply: "I am."

"And surely you are aware that you, as the Supervisor of Staffing, are held accountable for any error that might occur, since you are responsible for the delegation of tasks within your branch."

Another monotone response: "I am."

"Then there is little to discuss here. You made a poor decision, Mr. Spears. Your employee Grell Sutcliff has a history of manic behavior and should never have been entrusted with a job of that caliber without a partner to accompany him. In cases like this one, the fault lies with the Supervisor of Staffing."

"I accept full responsibility for the error," William acknowledged.

"Let me reiterate that this was a grave mistake, Mr. Spears. The collection of souls is a sacred task that should be handled with the utmost care and respect. Such a thoughtless decision on your part reflects negatively upon the London Branch, if not the entire Dispatch Society. This is reasonable grounds to demote you from your current position."

William met the gazes of the board members with strong, but quiet fortitude.

"Still, the Board recognizes your capability and diligence in rectifying this otherwise dire situation. Your work demonstrates thorough comprehension of the error. Thus, the Board moves that you may keep your position as Supervisor of Staffing. However, as a consequence of last night's events, the Board intends to keep a close watch on the London Branch in the months to come. Additionally, the Board moves that the reaper Grell Sutcliff be suspended from field duty and reassigned to office-based duties until further notice."

"Understood."

"Then this meeting is adjourned."

With that, the reapers stood from their seats and filed out of the room. William was the last to exit, and he noticed that the office was barren, with only a few employees working at their desks. He paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then, he stepped forward, intent to assert his authority as the Supervisor of Staffing. It would be a long workday, that was certain, but he would face it in the unflinching, stalwart manner that only William T. Spears could muster.

At his supervisor's request, Grell Sutcliff did not go to the office that day. For the entire afternoon, his body was numb, and he spent the time staring blankly at the wall, unmoving. The hours ticked away, and it was not until the sun began to set that he even felt compelled to move.

He turned his eyes to the window, seeing that the sky had taken on an orange-red tint, and a feeling swelled inside him. Such a beautiful, scarlet glow...

He mobilized himself at last. Brown hair fell neatly down his back in a ponytail, with just a few stray bangs falling across his face. A small, shy smile came to his lips as he stepped out the door. Now was the perfect time.

He first made a stop in town, and then he walked to that sacred place, the physically-manifested symbol and acknowledgement of death. Rows of stone marked each lost life, each deceased soul, and he walked down the aisles of death, searching for her name:

Angelina Barnett

He chuckled quietly to himself as he read it. She had discarded the Barnett name shortly after her husband's death. She would not be tied down by such a name—not when she had never truly loved the man—and so Grell had always known her as Angelina Durless, or, better yet, the stunning, blood-spattered "Madam Red."

The sky, redder now as the sun dipped lower, tinted the gravestone with a beautiful hue. Grell bent down placed a bouquet of red roses as its base. "Madam Red, I know that I made a terrible mistake, but, if you'll have me… I still…" A lump formed in his throat, and he was unable to finish the sentence. With a soft sniffle, he knelt down and lowered his head, as if to bow before the remarkable gravestone. He stayed there in reflective silence until the red tones blended into purple, and the sun gave way to the blue-black night.

Author's Note: Believe it or not, the skeleton of this chapter was mostly complete and sat on my computer for over two years… But I wasn't satisfied with my work, and I couldn't decide how to flesh it out—until I met Othello in chapter 114 of the manga!

Originally, the "Ronald in the Workers' Lounge" scene featured Ronald speaking to an unnamed, William-like reaper. I decided to replace the generic, dispensable character with Othello, and it really gave the scene a unique sense of personality. Although we currently know very little about this new character, we know just enough to give him an interesting cameo appearance. I really felt alive, rewriting that scene! Hopefully, you enjoyed Othello's unexpected, walk-on role, too.