Before you read this: Yes, I use female pronouns for Grell when I feel it's appropriate for the story. Yes, Yana Toboso confirmed her as a transwoman. Now, I hope you enjoy this fic.

William T. Spears enjoyed sleeping at night, getting those five hours that pushed him through the rest of the day at the office, where he finished paperwork and forced himself to perform to his best abilities. Sometimes Grell distracted him, as she often did, with her flowing hair, stunning eyes, and enjoyment of his more sadistic tendencies. They fit well together, even if he did find himself often annoyed with her antics, wishing that she would behave a little more seriously, like the A-student he knew from the academy. A cold face, black suit, and short crimson haircut...he pondered suggesting it to her for possibly a millisecond, before realizing just how wrong Grell would look dressed as a student in her current state.

Her current state involved preventing him from getting seven hours of sleep instead of five, but he regretted none of that at all. He missed her winking and the lacy lingerie, but she'd accepted the multi-day mission with Knox on the Campania as a way to pick up the slack. Will offered to accompany her, but she shook her head and pressed kisses to the tips of his fingers as she explained why she wanted him to stay in the reaper world. With a grimace, he realizing that his judgement probably wasn't the most sound as he watched her lips trailing over his skin.

"You know how powerful I am," she said, scraping her sharp teeth along his thumb just enough to make Will shiver, "Don't worry about this mess. I'll make sure Knox and I take care of it, and I'll be back soon enough. If you'd like, I'll even pick up something pretty in London just for you." A wink told Will exactly what she meant by 'something pretty.' In a haze of poor judgement, he nodded yes to her request and allowed Grell to drape her lithe body over him for one quick tryst before she went to fetch her scythe and young partner.

"Be efficient," he'd said, right before he left, unsure of what else to say to his departing...girlfriend? Lover? Coworker? She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stuck out her lower lip.

"Is that any way to say farewell to a lady?" she asked, and he gave her an awkward kiss on the cheek before she laughed and waltzed out the door to call for Knox's assistance.

Now, he wanted to kick himself for not being more careful with his goodbye.

Knox showed up during his precious five hours of sleep two days later, and Will stumbled to the front door of his house, glasses half off and hair half combed. The blonde reaper stood in the pouring rain, water drenching his outfit and splattering his glasses. Although he could barely see, Will's body went cold the moment he saw the huddled red mass lying limp in Knox's arms.

"Michaelis," Knox shouted over the roar of the storm, "And Undertaker. He used his scythe; he got both of us, but she...she..." Knox's face went pale and his eyes blurred as Will yanked him inside, straightening his glasses to get a clearer look at her. He pulled the limp reaper from Knox's arms and placed her on the dining table, the closest large flat surface. Off went her coat, the vest, and he ripped her shirt open to look at the deep wounds.

Blood poured from her chest, coagulating on her pale skin as she coughed and blinked up at the two of them. Her green eyes looked as though they dimmed faster by the second, and Knox knelt next to her, shaking his head and blinking far more than normal.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he said, wiping at his eyes, "I'm so sorry, Grell. I know I should've taken most of the blow; look at you...that stupid bastard..." Knox's words trailed off into murmurs as Grell used a trembling arm to press a finger to his lips.

"Be quiet, Ronnie," she insisted, her voice much too soft and weak as Will examined the severity of her cut, "I know you wouldn't have survived. And I can. You should take care of yourself too," her shaky hand ghosted over the front of his shirt, soaked with his own blood from a much shallower cut, "Ah, how embarrassing for a lady to be seen like this, in such an immodest state." Her laughter turned into moans as Will pressed cloth against the cut to soak up the excess blood. His lips were white with panic and shock as he mopped up the blood, pointing from his telephone to Knox.

"Go. Go call for a doctor. Mr. Knox!" he shouted, vibrations running through his body as he struggled to keep control. The blonde snapped to attention and rushed off to dial, leaving Will tending to Grell's cut. It refused to close, no matter what he did, and he hoped that the doctor would hurry the fuck up, because Grell turned paler by the second.

"William," she coughed, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, "I think I may have overestimated my talents."

"Shut up," he snapped, much too callous, and he knew that, "I'm not letting you die. Do you...do you know how much paperwork I'd have to do if you died while working? Grell! You are not allowed to die, is that clear?" he said, sliding his hand to cup her cheek as he continued to apply pressure to the wound. Grell stared at him, stunned by his reaction, and placed her hand on top of his.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling," she intoned, leaning her head back against the table as she waited for the doctor to arrive.

There would be a scar

It would be a deep scar, with jagged edges and raised white lines, stretched across Grell's formerly perfect torso in an angry slash. While reapers could heal from mundane injuries, a scythe left lasting marks. When the doctor informed her of that, she'd burst into tears, and at first Will had just thought it was because of her deep-seated vanity. Then, she began to babble through her tears, clutching the thin cotton hospital gown against her chest.

"How?" she cried, "How does anyone expect me to function when I have to remember that awful fight every time I go to bathe?"

Will opened his mouth to attempt comforting, but instead squared his jaw and closed his hand around hers.

"I must ask that you stop worrying," he insisted, kicking himself for being too cold. But, in public, he found it hard to give Grell the treatment he knew she deserved. Yes, he'd wait until they returned home. Then, he could help her. He could try healing her, as a doctor would.

Until she was discharged from the hospital, however, he sat next to her bed and alternated between holding her hand as she slept to just talking about past events with her-albeit, in a monotonous manner. She leaned back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling so she wouldn't look at the bandages wrapping around her chest. Eventually, he stopped talking and slumped his shoulders. Will felt far more like the B-grade academy student than the powerful reaper.

"I'm sorry," he muttered with his face pressed into his palms. She shook her head, causing her overgrown red bangs to flop in her pallid face.

"Don't be, William dearest. I'll be fine." She reached up with her long, graceful fingers and mussed his still perfect hair. She giggled, flashing her razor teeth for the first time in what seemed like ages. "You look so young," Grell laughed, placing her other hand on top of her bandages, her face growing somber, "And I feel so old."

When the doctors finally discharged her from the hospital, Will wasted no time in picking her up off the bed and carrying her directly out of the cold, unsuitable environment. She protested that people stared as he held her in his arms, but he looked straight ahead and refused to talk. Will tightened his grip and pulled her closer, and she gave up on being embarrassed, instead choosing to lean into his chest.

To the best of his abilities, he tried to help her adjust from after the attack. He took a week off from work to help her out, agreeing to it after Knox and his friends promised to pick up the slack. During the time he was away from his office, he noticed his icicle act melting as he took care of his redheaded partner. For a week, he got plenty of sleep, he woke up with Grell curled next to him with her red hair tickling his bare chest. He got many more chances to kiss her than he did while working, and sometimes he initiated...intimacy. He definitely realized he enjoyed watching Grell succumb to the power of his touch as he kissed his way down her long neck. It was as if the two of them existed in a state of limbo, where they neither rested on earth nor participated in the daily activities of the reaper world.

But of course, they couldn't reside in that state forever.

On the day Grell was scheduled to go back to work, he ended up watching her prep herself. It just sort of happened, for he found it strange, almost fascinating, as she transformed from the grumpy mess of tangled hair and tired eyes into a bubbly comet of flowing crimson hair and bright green eyes.

He observed her as she rolled out of bed in his old academy shirt, yanked it off over her head, and stumbled over to the bathroom to smooth the snarls out of her long red hair. A pair of boxers slung around her slender hips, and her hair obscured the part of her chest she didn't want him to see.

"Bloody-ugh!" she groaned as her brush caught on a snag, completely undoing her work. Suppressing a smile, he walked over and pulled her hair back, plucking the brush from her locks and working it through the snarls. She frowned, crossing her arms to hide her chest, unamused by how her hair refused to behave, but he soon smoothed out the unruly hair. Her bangs flopped over her forehead, and her hair tickled the base of her spine.

"Thank you, William dear," she sighed, turning around to brush a kiss against his cheek, "Sometimes I wonder if I should go back to how I kept my hair during my school days." Will shook his head.

"I know you'd miss having long hair," he remarked, twirling a bright strand around his finger, "It's obnoxious sometimes, but it suits you. Vibrant and difficult to tame." Grell shot him a look and began to carefully apply her makeup in the mirror.

"You're ridiculous at times," she smirked. He took a long look at her face in the mirror, so businesslike and subdued since her encounter with the filthy Sebastian and the Undertaker a few weeks ago. Biting down on his lip, he tried not to feel too guilty about sending her into there with only Knox for help. "Sorry, boss, but I have no intention of anyone taming me. Do you have any idea what kind of jobs are lined up for me today, after all-"

"Grell…" he started, staying her hand from applying a second layer of mascara. She looked up at him, pressing her lips into a thin line. More tender than he would ever be anywhere but their room, he brushed her long bangs out of her face.

Plucking a black ribbon from Grell's basket of hair trinkets, he tied her hair back away from her face and body. His eyes trailed over the angry, puckered scar that slashed across her chest, marring the otherwise smooth skin. She curled her hands in close to her chest, splaying her fingers over the ruined skin. Will wondered if she remembered the night where Knox had staggered back to the reaper world with her limp in his arms, babbling about the Undertaker and Sebastian. While she normally looked beautiful in red, then Will couldn't have hated the color that stained her pale skin at that time.

"Will, don't look," she started, but he cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned in close to look at her worried face.

"That scar only proves that you're one of the strongest reapers," he insisted, "Don't worry, I still find you lovely, if crazy. Everything's perfectly fine, Grell," he promised, pulling her hand away from her chest and turning his partner around to properly kiss her.

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