Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

Beta: Kuromu96 (Lune De Marionette)

A/N: This was supposed to be a oneshot, but after some readers asked me to continue I got an interesting idea and decided to continue writing. So this story is just me wondering what would have happened if Grell lost his memory.

Fading Red

A little dirty room in London police office was quiet. The room was simple, dark brown walls with similar coloured wooden flooring, sparsely decorated. There was only one person in the room, sitting in a stiff wooden chair in front of an oversized desk. William stood in the doorway watching him. Long red hair, wet from the downpour of rain outside, plastered to the sides of the man's face partially covering it, lithe figure slumped in the uncomfortable chair, his hands hanging lifelessly from only way that William really knew that the figure was actually living was the soft, rattling breaths he took in every few seconds. The being before him lacked every little detail that was normal for Grell Sutcliff.

William had trouble recognizing long haired shinigami he knew in this scared empty being;that spark, that zeal for life and the bloodlust that was always palpable in his gaze was now gone.

"So you do know him, sir?" asked a police officer, the one that had brought William to the department in the first place.

The dark haired shinigami nodded. He couldn't tear his yellow green eyes from a man who should be Grell Sutcliff, because whatever had happened to him to make the man act this way, that name didn't suit this person any more. Grell was an airheaded, absent minded, cheerful and blood thirsty shinigami whose only purpose in life was to annoy William and find troubles wherever he went. This though…

"We found him yesterday night on the street behind former Phantomhive residence in London." The police officer explained, taking William's silence as his acknowledgement of the situation. "He must have gotten into a fight of some kind. Seems he lost his memory. He couldn't even remember his name and we can't find it…"

"Grell Sutcliff." William informed the policeman without looking at him.

His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears resonating in the silence. The one that he refused to acknowledge as Grell gave an uncontrolled shudder at the sound, his gaze dead as he stared in front of him.

"Good. Now we can inform his family."

"No need to. I'll take care of it." William's business-like manner of speech was persuasive enough to close the topic.

The police officer mumbled some sympathetic words which dark haired shinigami considered unimportant, so he dismissed the man with a slight wave of his hand. William was left alone with the scared figure in the room. Grell Sutcliff was terrified of William T. Spears. It sounded more like a bad joke than reality. William took a step inside; his polished boots clicked loudly in the dead silence of the room. The red haired man shuddered once more, his hands gripping the armrests tightly.

"Grell Sutcliff." The dark haired shinigami repeated the name, now like address.

Red hair fell back, revealing a sickly pale face with a set of worried eyes; the man tiredly lifted his head to look at the visitor. William didn't like the feeling of being watched, scrutinized and assessed how dangerous he might be to this red headed man. Vulnerability radiated from his slumped figure, incredibly obvious from the way his fingers wouldn't stop unconsciously scratching wooden armrests, even from the way long red messed tresses fell to the floor in random pattern.

"Is that your name?" Lips moved but scratchy voice didn't match the one William remembered.

"It's your name." William answered; he couldn't reign in the harsh, angered tint to his voice. It angered him. He was infuriated to see that Grell couldn't recognize him, not even a spark of recognition in his eyes.

This whole situation starting from the unexpected call to his office from the London police Department (Grell always had his number in a front pocket of his infuriating red coat in case he needed help – not that William was ever going to provide it) to the moment he entered this little silent room, was starting to get on his nerves. Suddenly he found himself loosing his calm. Such an easy task given him by his boss: to see if Grell Sutcliff was still competent for his job after the incident, was affecting him more than it should.

"Oh…" the red haired man breathed out, his expression not changing, and resumed staring. "Who are you, then?"

Yellow green eyes, not protected by red framed glasses, glanced up at him with a wary look.

"William T. Spears." Dark haired shinigami answered sternly.

It was reckless to give his real name since Grell obviously didn't remember it. There was no need to reveal your identity to a stranger especially if you were a shinigami. That was all Grell was now to him – just a stranger.

"Why are you here?"

More than likely not sensing any danger from the man, Grell seemed more confident in his speech, his voice a bit louder and less wavering. He sat straight, mustering as much dignity as he could, both hands still trembling but not clutching the armrests of the chair as they were before. With easy shake of his head Grell shook his soaked long red hair from his face. William's eyes instantly fell on a long cut on left side of his face going from his temple, stretching down along the side of his face and stopping inch under his pointy chin. It was still fresh, the outside of the cut coloured a deep red, looking like it still hurt a great deal. It would take long to heal, and even more without any help and care which Grell wouldn't have. Understanding where William was staring the red haired man brought right hand to trace the wound. He winced as he put too much pressure to the sensitive patch of skin around it and smiled apologetically.

"What brings you here?"

He was diffident with voice sounding so small, thought William.

"Just an inspection." Dark haired shinigami answered adjusting his glasses. Doing thatwith his hand instead of sharp weapon felt unnatural to him.

Even before coming to the police station, William had decided that he'd first see how much Grell remembered and, in case his condition let him continue soul reaping he'd then reveal his true purpose of the visit. But Grell didn't seem to remember…he had no clue about shinigami work, about his own nature. William concluded there was no need to fill his empty head with supernatural information. Human life would take over and he'd never remember nights full of bloodshed and insane laughter. Hence, a story about inspection should be enough.

"Hm…Why here?" Grell's question was random but filled with true curiosity.

"I'm inspecting all departments in this area. This one was next on my list."

"There is a list?" Yet again there was genuine interest in irrelevant detail.

"Yes." William answered patiently.

"Oh…"

With every question answered so calmly Grell became more relaxed. He got used to the other man's presence. Fear didn't show through in his eyes, and his hands came to rest on his lap, playing with the hem of red sleeve.

"The police found you yesterday. You have amnesia, permanent it seems. Am I right?" William's voice was completely business-like, his voice stiff and his passionless eyes staring back at Grell.

The red haired man nodded reluctantly. They watched each other for at least five minutes in silence, William observing and Grell building courage to ask his next question. When he felt he was brave enough he discarded the idea and instead stood up and took a slow step to William. He looked weak, his always slim body now seemed fragile, he was shaking a little, of cold fear or weakness William couldn't tell. With a trembling hand, knuckles bruised and fingernails dirty, Grell reached up and touched other man's glasses.

"Hm…" He hummed as he experimentally pulled at the rim and they easily slipped from Williams face into Grell's scratched palm. The red haired man rolled them in his hands, same genuine curiosity lighting his eyes.

"Don't you want to ask me if I know who you are?" William wasn't sure why he said that. More and more he felt uncertain in his actions like he was wandering in the dark not knowing what waited him ahead.

"No. I don't think I want to." Grell mumbled, still fumbling with the glasses, looking at the only source of light through thin lenses, and then trying them on.

"Why?" William asked watching how the red haired man nodded to himself deciding he liked the glasses.

"I'm not sure I want to know." He turned around, spinning on the spot. William noticed many and many cuts on his pale skin and tears on red coat decorated by splashes of crimson. "See. This is not mine." His fingers slid over a spot of blood on the hemline. "Will it be alright not to remember who it belonged to?"

William noted how he purposely used past tense. He understood that the wound bleeding so much could be fatal. Knowing Grell, they were. William didn't let himself shudder at that thought.

"Does it bother you?" Dark haired shinigami asked when Grell stopped spinning, red whirlpool dying down before him. "The blood."

"Not really."

"Then what does?"

"The fact that it doesn't bother me."

William nodded. He though he understood what the other tried to say.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Live?" Grell looked at him questioningly as if waiting for confirmation.

A sound, only barely resembling a laugh, escaped William; a small unsure smile made its way to Grell's face, lighting his features a little, bringing back tiny resemblance to his past self.

"What are you going to do?" Red haired man asked and for a second his yellow green eyes twinkled.

This Grell, William thought, was so close to the one he knew before that morning in the police office. That would be like Grell Sutcliff to attempt to run away from reality, try to reject his nature and start everything from the beginning. But the contradiction was that the blood thirsty red reaper would never want to change what he was. It was so obvious from the satisfaction in Grell's crazy eyes every time he found new victim, his passion for a chainsaw with red handle and enthusiasm with which he descended to the human world to enjoy his next job.

"Leave." William answered half forgotten question.

Momentary Grell's smile fell and eyes looked sad through William's glasses, but it passed quickly, replaced by a grin of sharp teeth.

"Good."

"Is it?" William succumbed to his desire to ask.

"I…guess so." Grell sounded uncertain again.

Suddenly he took another step to William, the last one separating them – he wouldn't have to reach if he wanted to touch dark haired man's face. Grell titled his head to the right, red fringe falling over one eye and hiding the scared left cheek.

"Is it not good?"

"It is." William answered reaching a hand to adjust his glasses only in the last moment remembering they were still perched on the end of Grell's nose. Reaching with both hands he took them off carefully. Grell's eyes followed his movements with interest.

"Good then." Grell nodded.

William couldn't find a point in this conversation. He got a feeling that there was a meaning behind those clueless questions and monosyllabic answers. But did the red haired man realize it himself?

"I had a dream." Grell suddenly murmured intruding into world of William's thoughts. "There was a lot of blood."

"Did it scare you?"

"No. Not at all…" He struggled with his answer. "It was…nice."

It couldn't be any other way, William though. Grell didn't look at him; his gaze went past the other man, distracted by shadows in the corners of the small room. The red haired man's mind was constantly working; processing the little bits of information he got from everything around him, reforming it and shaping it to form the basis of his new memories. It seemed he was trying to understand more about himself despite what he had asserted earlier.

"It's time for me to leave."

"Then leave." Grell replied simply looking his interlocutor in the eye.

"Good luck with your living, Grell." Dark haired shinigami wished him and, not waiting for any reaction, turned on his heels and left. No matter how fast his stride was he still heard a faint "Farewell, Mr. Spears." behind. It stung with sudden hurt the way he never expected it would. Indeed that was a final farewell to the Grell Sutcliff he knew.

A/N: I'd really appreciate it if you leave me a review. With just a couple of words you can make a person happy:)

Also, please read an A/N in the next chapter.