"He's waiting in the conference room, sir. Go right ahead." A respectful bow as he held the door open.
"Thank you Agent Jamison." A respectful nod in return as he entered the room and waited to hear the faint click that signaled a fully closed door. "Good evening."

Soft clinks as chains rustled, disturbed by motion from where they nestled around thin wrists.
"Hello." A faint smile as restrained hands were briefly held up for him to see. "I'd hug you but I find my hands are tied in this situation." The jest was weak, matching the fatigue in the redhead's expression. The man ignored both, choosing to take a seat at the opposite end of the table.
"Sutcliff, there is an error on your paper." A briefcase was opened, a file withdrawn and slid across the polished oak. "Your motion to appeal was returned unsigned. All the papers need be filed by noon in a week's time or the Court will dismiss any chance of a retrial for your freedom."
"I know." The corners of her mouth twitched into a tired smile. "I don't want to motion for an appeal. I don't want a retrial. I don't want my freedom."

There it hung in the air, the silence between them thick and suffocating. William cleared his throat and cleaned it with a sigh.
"Sutcliff. If you do not sign this paper, your execution for crimes committed as Jack the Ripper is set in stone."
"Actually it's set in thirty seven days and seventeen hours." Grell corrected, preening a lock of hair for spit ends.
"It shan't be set in thirty seven days and seventeen hours if you sign this paper."
"No." The red Reaper replied, folding her arms on the table and resting her head. "I won't sign it."
"Sutcliff," William pinched the bridge of his nose, "plainly put: if you do not sign this paper you will die."
"Yes I surmised as much, thank you William."

He used the following wave of silence to assess the situation. In front of him could not possibly be Grell Sutcliff, his Agent and proverbial thorn in his side. Grell Sutcliff certainly would not lie down and take such a punishment so easily. Not when it entailed an end to her life. Was this perhaps a doppelganger? A Demon, perhaps, luring in a member of the Division? Massaging his temples, he did his best to alleviate his growing headache; there were always headaches wherever Grell was concerned.

"I've had a lot of time to think, you see." The redhead whispered, breaking the silence and William's train of thought. "My holding cell doesn't really offer much when it comes to recreation."
"You have had a month, Sutcliff, which is more than enough time to decide execution is not the best option."
"Isn't it?" A self-conscious laugh as Grell ducked her head to try and hide from his gaze. "I thought it through and it's actually quite logical if the execution moves forward."
"I never thought you would find anything desirable in death by hanging." The management officer replied curtly. "This is no joking matter. Sign the paper so I can submit your files."

Rosy fingerpads rested on the paper as Grell stared at the neat little letters in their neat little lines. She pushed the paper away.
"When I am hanged," she refused to catch those cold golden eyes and swiftly continued, "upper management finally rids themselves of me. The Division no longer has to waste time and resources correcting my mistakes. All Agents are spared the task of cleaning up my messes. Mortals shall die when they are slated to die. Demons shan't be coaxed into bloody battles from which I will require rescuing."
"And you?"
"And I shan't have to stomach being regarded as something less than dirt." Grell laughed, the sound hollow and painful. "I won't spend my days trying to ignore the disappointment and frustration written all over everyone's faces. I won't be treated as a nuisance and a freak. I won't have to swallow the urge to tell people I'm a Reaper, no matter how odd my tendencies, and that as a Reaper I ought to be treated like any other."

She picked up the paper, slowly tearing it up as her resolve crumbled.
"I never expected everyone to love me and I didn't even want them to." Grell bit her lip. "As the years went on I didn't even want their friendship. I just wanted a little respect. Even a shred of it would have been welcomed greatly."

The torn scraps fluttered from her hands, littering the floor in white patches.

The third bout of silence was not too severe, for it would be disturbed every so often by a sniffle. William cleared his throat, gathering the contents of the file spread before him. Shuffling them back into order, he replaced the file back in his briefcase before shutting it.
"I see." For reasons he could not conjure, William could not bear to spare her a glance though he could do nothing to stop himself from hearing his younger colleague trying to prevent herself from crying.

"If that is your decision, then I respect it." He swallowed thickly. "I shall be back tomorrow with the papers for your last request and a draft of a will should you wish to bequeath your belongings to others."

And there was his mistake. The moment he caught Grell's gaze, his equanimity was unsettled. Despite the ghost of a smile on her lips, Grell's eyes were pained and glazed with yet more tears waiting for a chance to fall. In all his years of knowing her, he had never seen her so resigned, so defeated, so broken.
"Is this really what you want?" William asked her quietly.
"No." Grell laughed self-consciously hiding her face in her hands. "But it's what's right for everyone, including me."

And to that he had nothing to say, so he exited the room and let the fourth episode of silence craft his answer.

Protesting loudly against acquiescing any form of rest, William failed to sleep at all that night. His mind was far too busy as it combed through his conversation with Grell over and over. In his restless state he began to question everything: her detachment, her decisions, her wordings. He kept returning to the question: why would the most troublesome, vainglorious Reaper simply accept a death penalty?

So he spent the early hours pacing his study, occasionally stopping at his desk to write down a few thoughts before resuming the well trodden path in the carpet. Then suddenly the moment of clarity he hoped for came into fruition. William nodded, pleased as he crossed out all the other notes and wrote a new sentence at the bottom of the page.

"Oi. Visitor. Make yourself presentable, it's one of the Officers!"
"Sod off, Blake." Grell retorted, pulling the pillow over her head.
"I'm serious! He's here, Officer Spears!"
The redhead bit her lip, pulling the thin blanket over her head in a childish gesture of reluctance. The last yet only person she wanted to see today was William.

"Sutcliff, we haven't much time. You need to bathe and change into your uniform. Your hearing is in an hour and twenty-five minutes."
"My what?" She sat up, momentarily forgetting her disheveled appearance in favour of staring at her boss incredulously. "I don't have a hearing. I didn't give my consent to file for an appeal."
"Yes you did."
"No, I tore that up Will and you watched me do it." It was another childish gesture, but Grell couldn't help but huff at him. "So no, I do not have a hearing in an hour and twenty-five minutes."
"Twenty three." William corrected, before holding up a leaf of paper. "Your signature is here. You realised your logic was flawed and saw the error in your argument yesterday so you signed it and I submitted it to the Court. They returned me this carbon copy for safe-keeping."

The bastard forged my signature! Grell continued to stare at him in disbelief. I don't know whether I should laugh, cry or call for a doctor to check his head!
"Wait." She shook the self-conversation away. "What was the error I saw in my argument?"
"Your reasoning on nearly all accounts proved logical." The officer nodded. "On all accounts except one. You failed to take into account how your own boss would feel should you be executed."

The redhead scoffed, curling up and drawing her knees to her chest as she redirected her gaze to the window set high up in her cell.
"I thought it was a given that you would be amongst the first to find relief in my death."
"You realised last night that as the man who has known you since your very first day in the Academy, I would miss you should you die." William calmly explained, ignoring her reply. "So you signed the paper."

Silence as she stared at him.

"You-" she began slowly, "you would miss me?"
"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Twenty minutes, Sutcliff."

Grell felt an array of emotions bubble up in her chest and a tired, choked, part-laugh-part-sob forced itself out. Reaching for him, she fisted her hands in his sleeve and drew him close, resting her temple against the expensive silk wool.
"Fool." She laughed, the curse directed at them both. It was certain now, though it went unvoiced. I'll be alright.

William closed his eyes to reign in the burst of utter relief that flooded his veins. He cupped a palm to Grell's cheek before leaning in and kissing the crown of her head.

For the first time in months, a little red returned to Grell Sutcliff as she smiled. For the first time in his life William T. Spears instigated an embrace.