The flickering light of a portal began to form just outside the doors of the Grim Reaper Hospital. The silhouette of a man carrying another silhouette appeared, back-lit by the portal's bright glow. He was exhausted and injured, but he had given his word to the ancient that he would see personally to his bundle's medical care. He paused before the sliding doors of the emergency department and looked down at Grell's face. A pang of guilt washed over him once more. Adjusting his grip on the unconscious redhead carefully, William took a deep breath and stepped forward. His movement activated the automatic doors. The others would be arriving shortly behind him, but at this moment Grell was his only concern.

"I need a doctor, now!" He shouted as he entered the facility.

One of the nurses at the nurses' station picked up a phone behind the counter, calling for assistance while two others raced to get a gurney for Grell.

"It will be alright, Grell," cooed William as the gurney was wheeled up in front of him. Gingerly, he laid the redhead down upon the pristine white sheets. He knew Grell most likely could not hear him, but still if there was even a remote chance she was listening, he wanted her to know she was not alone.

"The others will be here before too long."

"Sir, please follow us." The nurse who had called for assistance instructed as she came up alongside him and urged him to follow.

William nodded and glanced back to the entrance. Two more figures were just arriving as he started down the corridor with the nurses and Grell.

Ronald carried Moira swiftly through the portal, wasting no time in shouting for medical help as soon as he made it through the doors. Behind him came Khronos, and when the ancient spotted Grell being wheeled away in a gurney up ahead, he hastened to her side and took her hand. He glanced at William and nodded gratefully to him, silently thanking him for taking care of his lover. He still held some contempt for the man failing to act sooner, but at least he seemed to be trying to redeem himself.

They brought Grell into an examination room and they ushered her worried companions out.

"You can wait in the hall, sirs," insisted a female medic. "I'm sorry, but only medical staff are allowed to stay until the doctor says otherwise. We will keep you informed, I promise."

Khronos sighed and reluctantly let go of his lover's hand. Hemorrhaging was never a good sign.

"Please, take good care of her," he rasped.

A few doors down, Moira was likewise being examined, but since she had suffered no severe injuries, Ronald was allowed to be in the room with her.

"We should look at you too, Officer Knox," advised the doctor as he checked the beautiful ancient's vitals and reflexes. "You appear to have been through the wringer a bit, yourself."

"See to her first," insisted the blond stubbornly. "I can wait."

Moira looked over at Ronald and touched his hand. She smiled warmly and whispered softly, "Ronnie, please let them start looking at you. You have a nasty gash on your arm, and I would be sick with worry if it got infected. Besides, you can't stand next to me when they run the scan of my head. You won't fit inside the machine with me," she teased. "When I return, you don't have to leave my side, but let them look at you while I get the scan done. Will you let them, love?"

For a moment, he looked torn. After what they'd just been through, he really didn't want to let her out of his sight for a second…but he reminded himself that Moira was an ancient, and could likely take care of herself better than he ever could, if anyone tried anything funny. He nodded reluctantly and he let one of the other medics examine him while they took Moira off to be scanned.

"Better not do anything funny," he warned them.

"Oh really now, Mr. Knox," chastised the woman looking him over. "We're here to help. Your lady friend won't be harmed."

He shrugged. "Just saying; I don't much trust anyone anymore."

William sat on the examination table in another room, just down from where Grell was being looked after. A nurse was wrapping a severe wound on his side. The split flesh had needed stitches; it was a deep wound caused from one of the goon's scythes. He sighed once more as he watched Khronos pace back and forth.

"Undertaker, you are making me nervous. Is there nothing I can do to get you to take a seat and let that nurse have a look at you? Though I am sure there is naught but a scratch upon you. However, you will wear yourself out pacing."

The nurse he was referring to was a small brunette who had been trying to get the anxious ancient to sit still for nearly half an hour now. She was shy and found the former Dispatch agent intimidating. Several times, not knowing what else to do, she had looked at her fellow nurse and the Dispatch Manager for help. Both were preoccupied with his examination, and they had left her to her own devices. But now, William caught her pensive expression, and out of pity he spoke up.

"You will do Grell no help, if you wear yourself out. She will need you when she wakes," William pointed out, adjusting his glasses.

The ancient stopped pacing to pierce William with his gaze, a frown twisting his pale lips. He could have told him that this mightn't have happened, if he'd just paid attention to what was going on and investigated this sooner. He could have told him that he had no place lecturing him. Speaking was painful to him though, and his words came out in raspy husks. It wasn't worth the energy to tell Spears what the bloke already knew himself, though.

With a sigh, Khronos sat down on one of the small chairs, and he checked the clock. His body was still tingling from the chronological alteration he'd done to it in order to defeat Thanatos. It was a bit like when he ate too many cookies and got a sugar rush. Small thing to worry about, though. How long would they be working on Grell? What had caused the hemorrhage in the first place? Was it organ damage?

So many questions raged in his mind as he waited for news about his lover.

William's gaze remained on the mortician as he finally succumbed to taking a seat. He then nodded to the nurse in thanks as she smiled and stepped back. There would be some days of discomfort before the wound would begin to heal, but it was a small price to pay for having ignored the redhead's pleas for help over the years.

"I am sure they will have some news shortly about Grell. The main thing is that she is safe, and no longer in that ghastly facility. The two rogues can no longer do her any harm. I will see to it personally that their records are secured and locked away in the great vault. I am sure there will be no trials, since both were in violation of a grand number of reaper laws."

"Don't imagine so," agreed the mortician in a whisper, and that sat fine with him.

The souls of the guilty reapers would likely be sent straight to Hell, where they belonged.

A nurse came in at that moment, looking at him with a bit of trepidation before approaching him. She gave a respectful little bow of her head.

"Legendary Death, you may now see Officer Sutcliff, if you like. There is…something the doctor wishes to discuss with both of you, sir."

The ancient nodded, heart skipping a beat at the news; Gods…what had they done to his lover? Was Grell going to suffer permanent physical damage from their cruelty, along with the psychological injuries?

"Lead on," he rasped, "and do a bloke a favor; just call me 'Undertaker'. That's who I am, now."

She nodded and swallowed, "Of course, sir. As you wish."

He followed her without another word.

William slipped his shirt on and began to button it as they headed down the hall, following the young nurse. Something in the way she had looked at the ancient made his blood run cold…well, colder than usual.

He had just clasped the final button when they arrived at a special door. William paused and looked up at the sign above it, 'Intensive Care Unit'.

~What the Hell is Sutcliff doing in here?~

He had no time to further ponder the question as the nurse opened the door and ushered the Undertaker and himself into the section of hospital, used specifically for rare medical cases and those reapers that had become infected with demon taint; or attacked viciously by a hostile soul. This was not a unit most reapers would ever need to visit.

As they entered the ICU, a wall of large glass windows stood before them. Beyond the glass was a bed, the bright color of red could be seen upon the pillow. The sounds of a heart monitor and beeps from other machines could be heard filtering through the wide, open door of the room. William abruptly stopped just inside the door, shocked by the sight of the redhead lying in the bed.

Grell lay unconscious and a breathing tube had been inserted into his mouth. His chest was rising and falling with each breath forced into his lungs. This was not a common practice for a reaper who had fallen into a Reaper's Sleep. Reapers didn't require oxygen to survive. They simply fell into a deep sleep or typically known as, 'Reaper Sleep', which to mortals appeared as death. It was then a reaper's body repaired itself. Mortals that came across a sleeping reaper would swear the being was dead as their hearts only beat once every so often. So why was oxygen being pumped into her body?

Not only was Grell hooked to a breathing machine, but a heart monitor and two different IVs were running into his veins. William stood in stunned silence as the doctor began to speak.

"Gentlemen, I am Doctor Damion Emmerson."

The Doctor introduced himself, offering his hand to both William and The Undertaker.

"I have been assigned Miss Sutcliff's case. There are a few things to discuss and you may wish to take a seat."

Undertaker remained standing at Grell's side, taking her limp hand in his.

"Just tell me," he whispered.

~Merciful death, please don't tell me I'm going to lose my rose…not after all this. Was everything we did to save her for naught?~

William remained standing as well, just at the foot of Grell's bed. He had one question and one question only on his mind. Adjusting his glasses, his gaze pierced the doctor's.

"Why the use of oxygen; why are you not allowing her to sleep and heal on her own?"

"Yes, Well…" The doctor peered down at his patient before looking back up at William and then Undertaker. "While her wounds along the back are severe and will eventually heal as you say, on their own…there is a more dire reason for the breathing tubes. It appears Miss Sutcliff is with child. The fetus needs the additional oxygen and for Miss Sutcliff to keep her heart rate up. If we allow her to fall into a normal healing sleep, her heart rate will drop and she will stop breathing, as you well know."

As he looked down at Grell one more time, his voice grew more somber.

"The baby needs oxygen and proper blood flow to develop if it is to have any chance of survival. We are monitoring it carefully and despite the trauma Miss Sutcliff has sustained, the baby seems to be healthy for its size. In addition, the added oxygen will help her heal faster, and may in fact allow Miss Sutcliff to awake sooner. Though it is hard to say for certain, her body has been through a lot duress, as of recent."

Beneath the pale shag of his bangs, Undertaker's eyes widened. He looked from the doctor to Grell and back again.

"W-with child?" he repeated dumbly in his ruined voice. "How th' bloody hell…oh…oh dear."

He'd gotten her pregnant. He hadn't even considered that possibility as being a part of the transformation done to her by Thanatos. He'd been operating under the presumption that it was only a surface change, that internal female sex organs were not formed along with the outer bits. Evidently, he'd been wrong about that. An oddly giddy feeling came over him at the notion that he was going to be a papa.

But almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, another, darker thought followed. What if he wasn't the father? Hypnos held Grell prisoner for some time after Michaelis slit his throat, after all. He already knew the villain had violated Grell before in the past. What if this child was not of his seed, but of the nefarious ancient masquerading as Wundt?

"How far along?" he demanded as loudly as he could. "What's the estimated date of conception?"

He asked not only for his own piece of mind, but for Grell's. If she found out she was carrying the baby of her captor…

His fists clenched at the thought of it. Bad enough for Wundt to force himself on Grell, but to have impregnated her as well? It was unforgivable. He wished the sadistic blighter were still alive, just so he could reap him again for his own satisfaction.

The doctor flipped through Grell's chart before replying. "She appears to be around four weeks. Most likely she would have just started to develop symptoms – if any."

William swallowed hard and stumbled back, collapsing into a chair that had been placed in the room for visitors. How was any of this possible?

Undertaker mentally counted in his head. Yes, according to Lawrence's account of how long he'd been comatose, the timing was right. He started to breathe a sigh of relief, but he needed to be certain. Shinigami technology being advanced as it was, he knew there were ways to be discover the parentage of an uncertain pregnancy.

"Could we arrange a paternity test?"

The words were like a bitter poison on his lips. Even if the child wasn't his, he would not abandon Grell—but he needed to know. Only one other person could be the father—provided Hypnos hadn't allowed someone other than himself to violate Grell while he had her in his clutches.

Closing the chart, Doctor Emmerson looked up at the Undertaker; surprised by the question. The thought never occurred to him that someone else besides the man who had violated the redhead could be the father.

"Paternity test? I just assumed…I mean the evidence of rape. Sir, are you suggesting someone else could be the father?"

Undertaker pointed at himself and nodded, unable to fault the man for his assumptions.

"She and I are lovers, chap. This is gonna be hard enough for her to swallow as it is. If I'm the father, it might be a touch easier for her to accept."

He rolled up his sleeve and stuck his white arm out insistently.

"So go on and stick me so we can find out, yeah? That's how you do it, right? Blood testing?"

William sat quietly watching the exchange between the two. He knew that Grell and Undertaker had become intimate, but the thought of the two being parents was overwhelming.

"Pardon me, gentlemen. I am rather afraid I need some air. I should also like to check on the others, and to be quite honest I find all this news quite unsettling. If you will excuse me, I shall now check on Miss Anderson and Mister Knox," Will said, finally breaking his silence as he stood.

However, before exiting, Will paused at the doorway and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Undertaker, before I go. What of the others?" Hastily, he inquired, turning to the silver-haired ancient. "If they ask about Grell's well-being, what is it that I should say?"

The mortician lowered his gaze in thought, before glancing at his unconscious lover.

"Tell them she's resting nice and stable, for now," he whispered, "If they ask about the bleeding…say it was blood in the urine from the abuse she suffered. Nobody else needs to know about this 'till she's had a chance to wake and decide for herself how she wants to deal with it, yeah?"

There was no point to them knowing…not yet. Grell might not want this baby—especially if it was conceived in rape. He wasn't sure how he even felt about it, but it was a private matter. To think that everyone else should find out before Grell herself even knew wasn't acceptable to him.

"I understand," replied William, nodding. "If you need me, I shall be with the others and my cell is on. Do not hesitate to call me."

While William bid farewell, the doctor proceeded to pull a syringe and tourniquet from the storage closet in Grell's room. If the former field ancient wanted a paternity test, then he would oblige. Retrieving his blood would be the easy part. The baby's, however, would require a small procedure. A minor one, which required the help of a nurse and an ultrasound machine; nothing he could not handle. After a few hours of testing, they would have the results and know for certain if Undertaker was the father or not.

Ronald stared at the machine that they wanted him to lie down and be inserted into.

He shook his head, "Man, I really d-don't wanna go in there."

Eric had arrived with Alan and Lawrence after debriefing the Dispatch backup when they arrived at Wundt's clinic. While he stayed with Ronald, Anderson went into the room down the hall to check on his sister and Alan discussed Grell's condition with William.

"Ronnie, ye'll be fine," assured the Scotsman with a pat on the blond's gown-clad shoulder. "They've go' tae see wha's been done tae yer cinematic records." He gently started to steer him towards the sliding gurney.

"But it looks…really tight in there," gasped, Ronald, resisting the stronger reaper. "Eric…you're m' mate. Don't make me do this…"

Eric turned Ronald around in his arms and propped his glasses low on his nose so he could look him in the eye without the shading interfering.

"Look at me, Ronnie."

Gulping, the younger blond did as he said. He was shaking like a leaf. Eric had never seen him like this before, and it made him feel a helpless wave of pity and anger.

"It's 'cause we're mates tha' I've gotta insist. Its ten minutes, Ron. Ten minutes o' yer life. The Knox I know wouldnae let a machine scare 'im. If ya want tae live a normal life again, ye've go' tae let 'em do this, a'right?"

Tears welled up in the blond's eyes—evidence that he was not only more traumatized than he'd let on earlier, but still barely more than a kid.

"I dunno if the Ronnie ya knew is still in here."

"Bullshit," insisted Eric. "He is. Come on, kid…pull it t'gether."

"C-can't," gasped Ronald with another frightful look at the machine. His eyes were dilating and he struggled harder against Eric's hold.

"Leggo of me, fuckers! I'm not gonna let ya do this to me without a fight!"

Eric was briefly stunned when Ronald socked him in the jaw, but he was more bewildered by the younger reaper's last comment than the punch.

"Ronnie! Cut it out! Shite…I could use some help, here!"

Orderlies came to assist him in restraining the now wildly struggling blond agent, and Eric's throat closed up as he watched them wrestle him to the gurney and give him a shot to sedate him.

"N-no," moaned Ronald, eyes blinking in his struggle to stay awake. "Dun'…let 'em…do this…Eric…"

At that point, Eric had to leave the room. He went out into the hallway and he leaned up against the wall, yanking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

"Eric?" Alan came up to him with concern. "How is he?"

Eric looked at his partner, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He shook his head and swallowed, "I cannae say. He flipped out when they tried tae get him in tha record scanning machine. They had tae sedate him."

He sighed and swallowed again, replacing his glasses over his eyes.

"I've ne'er seen him like tha'."

Knowing how his partner could rage when his temper got the better of him, Alan embraced him.

"They're going to take care of him and the others, Eric. It's going to be okay."

"Lawrence, I'm fine," Moira sighed as she laid back down in the hospital bed of her assigned examination room. "They just want to keep me here for observation, because of the tampering. I only had a few minor scrapes and a small bump to the back of my head. Nothing serious. I am more worried about Grell, to be honest. No one has come in here and let me know how she is doing."

Turning her head, she narrowed her eyes on her brother. "And have you allowed anyone to take a look at you, yet?"

She loved her brother dearly, but he could be stubborn. And he often neglected is own health and safety, when he was being over protective of her.

"Lawrence, has anyone checked you over?" She inquired once more, when he did not immediately answer her.

He grimaced a bit and he reached down to rub his sore calves. They'd healed up some since the struggle, but walking was rather painful.

"I wished to give them a chance to look after you and the young ones, first. Not to worry; I'll be along to an examination room of my own when I leave here. My injuries are minor, compared to having one's cinematic records tampered with."

He smiled quietly at her. "And I have only one sister, after all."

Tenderly, she reached out and touched his hand, squeezing it.

"I am also worried about Ronnie. He… I mean they… oh Lawrence, they really messed him up. What did Hypnos do to him? How was he able to control him and that demon? And all those poor mortals," tears began to gather in her eyes, "How could they do this to us?"

"They are going to find out exactly what was done to both he and Grell," soothed Lawrence, returning the pressure of her hand. "Be strong, Moira, and be the guiding light I know you can be for them both. I shall do my best to help you help them. You've all been through a terrible ordeal—particularly young Grell. Ronald is quite young, but he's an adaptive lad. We also have Khronos. With time and support, they will heal."

He grimaced as he thought of their former brethren.

"As for Hypnos and Thanatos, I can only offer the theory that they were weak. I know that I wasn't terribly helpful in all that, but they allowed the vastness of our lifespans to drive them to madness and turn them from the path. To be honest, I've often feared the same might occur with Khronos."

Lawrence smirked, "But I think he has proven his fortitude. Mad he may be, but he's no monster. And you, dear sister…you have a grandchild to love and an exceptionally loyal young man to share your affection with. Don't be afraid of that. We all survived. A bit worse for the wear, but we are still here."

Moira rubbed her eyes, wiping away the unshed tears that glistened in the lamp light from her bedside table; her brother's words sinking in. He had always been her rock in times of strife and once more he was there, but now she wondered if she could still be that light he spoke of. Her mind was muddled with fear and uncertainty. The future didn't seem so bright anymore. The damage that was caused by her fellow ancients, could it ever truly be repaired? Then an image of Ronald's face appeared in her mind and her chest tightened. She swallowed hard before speaking again.

"Lawrence, you don't think Ronald is too young for me? He is still very green and wet behind the ears, but I know he has a good heart." She shook her head as a single tear snuck out of the corner of her eye. "He blames himself for what they did to us. What they made us do. He did nothing wrong. I love him, and it kills me that he thinks he hurt me."

"We are reapers, Moira." Lawrence combed some wayward strands of hair away from her eyes with his free hand, still holding tight to her other one. "If Ronald is too young for you, then Grell is too young for Khronos. Personally, I think your beau has proven to be mature enough to be suitable for you. I had my doubts before, but after witnessing everything, I should say I was very wrong on that front. If you love him and he loves you, then don't punish either of you by keeping yourself from him. He has growing to do yet, but he clearly loves you, and he's a brave lad."

Lawrence got out of his chair with a little grunt, and he leaned over to kiss Moira on the forehead.

"Give him a chance…and yourself, as well. He's going to need you. All that you can do now is show him that you hold no fault with him. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I ought to see about getting looked over. I know you have things to consider. I shall return once they've poked and prodded me a bit."

He gently released her hand. "Rest for a while and consider your feelings. I only ask that you not allow your fears to rule them."

Moira watched Lawrence leave the room. He was right. They had a long way to go, but they would do it together. Carefully, she turned onto her side and tucked the pillow more comfortably under her head. Her thoughts returned to her young lover and she wondered how he was doing. It had been an hour since Ronald was wheeled down to the lab for his own scan. She knew he was not alone, but she wanted to see him, touch his hand and know he was alright. Slowly, her eyes began to close. The recent events were finally catching up to her; exhaustion taking over.

It wasn't long before she was sound asleep.

~Wake up, darlin'. Please. Let me know you're still in there.~

Khronos hadn't slept a wink, yet. His eyes were circled with shadows of exhaustion as he sat in the chair beside his unconscious lover's bed and held her limp hand. A father. He was going to be…a father. The doctor came back with the news about an hour after taking samples for the testing procedure. It was such a great relief to find out that the baby was put there by him, and not by Hypnos, that Undertaker actually needed a moment alone outside to breathe and calm down.

He'd gone onto the roof and looked up at the evening sky, counting the stars as they came out and the sun bade its final farewell for the day. Merciful Hades…he'd gotten his lover pregnant. He was going to be…

The ancient flicked his eyes back at his slumbering lover, reminding himself that it was a bit premature to start handing out cigars. Even if Grell chose to keep it, things could happen. This was a very unusual situation, after all, and what if she hated him for it? What if it was too much to bear?

He sighed and he caressed the delicate fingertips of the hand he held.

"Sorry, love," he said for perhaps the…well, he'd lost count of how many times he'd said it. "Never meant for any of this to happen to you."

This was one time since waking up that he didn't mind not having a voice, anymore. Much as he wanted his rose to open her eyes, he dreaded the prospect of trying to explain everything to her in whispers and rasps.

"You're going to make yourself sick," William stated as he stood in the doorway of Grell's ICU room.

His coat was folded over his arm and his tie still hung loose around his neck. Somewhere along the way he had lost his waistcoat, and it had been his favorite one, too. His normally kept hair was tousled just like the way he used to wear it in his youth. In his other hand was a steaming cup of tea and he raised it to his lips, taking a sip before he spoke again.

"You need to rest. Everyone else is sleeping or has gone home for the night."

Undertaker bowed his head. "Is this how you plan to make up for your negligence, Spears? By playing 'mother hen' with me?"

He looked up at the brunet. "I think maybe you ought to take your own advice, chap. You're looking haggard, yourself. As for myself, I'll sleep in this chair by her side. I'm not going anywhere 'till she's released from this place."

"Perhaps I am, Undertaker," he smirked. "However, I have spoken to the doctor and they have agreed to allow you to stay here, by Grell's side, so long as you attempt to get sleep. Orderlies will be arriving with a cot soon. It is against hospital policy, but I can still be persuasive when I need to be."

Turning his attention to a chair pressed up against the wall, Will strode slowly over to it.

"I told them that unless they wish to be reaped at your hands, they will allow you to stay and that I will take responsibility for you," he explained, draping his coat over the back of the chair. "There has been enough bloodshed for one day, and I hate the thought of what you might do if they attempt to force you out of here. Though I must agree, you need some rest."

The ancient looked at his lover. His eyes were burning with the need for sleep, and he'd already caught himself nodding off once or twice.

"Have it your way, then. Long as they know I'm here to stay 'till Grell's ready to go home."

He sniffed himself and he grimaced. "I could probably use a shower and a change of clothes, though. I'm sure Anderson can bring me something when he returns tomorrow, though."

"Yes, but for tonight, I think just getting a few hours of sleep will do you a world of good." Will nodded towards Grell as he took a seat in the chair, "I shall keep watch over her while you get some rest. I had a nap earlier, so I shall not need anymore rest for a time."

Undertaker grunted and shrugged. He was tired, and seeing as speaking was a chore for him now, there was no point in arguing. The hospital staff came in with a gurney for him, and once they set it up, he removed his boots and pushed it close to Grell's bed, before climbing into it to lay down. Facing his lover on his side, he reached out to take Grell's hand in his before closing his eyes. He drifted off to sleep, too exhausted to care about the presence of Spears in the room, and his dreams were rather awful. His mind conjured up images of the things Hypnos must have done to Grell while he had her in captivity, and he twitched restlessly with helpless rage.

"I'm not finished with her, Khronos," whispered the insidious voice of Hypnos, "She is mine."

"Bugger off," whispered the ancient, back. "You're dead now. Ought to learn to act that way."

There came a dark chuckle from the once powerful doctor.

"My body is dead, but my essence remains close by. I can yet play with your precious rose."

A coldness went through Undertaker at the thought. Grell had reaped Hypnos, in the end. Her scythe still contained his records, as they hadn't had the opportunity to transfer them into soul tomes for the library—or destruction, as the case may be. His eyes fluttered open sluggishly, focusing on the blurred form of his lover in the bed next to him. She was stirring. He tried to speak…tried to move, but his body felt like lead. It was if it was still asleep, while his mind was awake and aware.

~Grell…~

She started to sit up, a blank expression on her face. He knew beyond a doubt that she wasn't the one pulling the strings, and he struggled to wake his body up before the dark soul of their enemy could do more damage to her.

~Spears, you'd better still be awake!~

And preferably aware that something wasn't right about the way Grell had abruptly seemed to rouse and sit up.

William had been doing what he had sworn to do, watching over Grell as she slept. Occasionally he had glanced at her sleeping protector and lover. The worn and withered former reaper had tossed and turned for several hours, but something was different now. He seemed to be trapped, perhaps in a nightmare that he was having. He was mumbling, and William could not make out a single word he uttered; his body twitched strangely in the bed next to Grell's. Concerned that Undertaker was caught in a night terror, William bolted from his chair. Standing over the ancient, he looked down puzzled, unsure of what would be the correct course of action. Should he rouse the sleeping mortician or let him fight through his own dream? William followed his gut; wake him.

"Undertaker," William called as he pushed and shook the mortician's shoulders. "Undertaker, wake up!"

~Spears, you blithering idiot! I Am awake! Grell's the one you need to be shaking! Can't you see her sitting up?~

There was a choked, raw sound, and it took him a moment to realize that it was coming from him. He then also realized that his eyes weren't open, after all. This realization occurred when William decided to pinch one of his lids open to check his eyes. The ancient's other eye snapped open, and his gaze flicked to Grell as he sat up with a tortured gasp. He came close to head-butting the brunet standing over him, but Spears hastily backed off to avoid it.

"Grell?" Undertaker reached out to her, studying her intently. She hadn't moved. She appeared to be sleeping, still, and when he reached out delicately with his senses to probe her spirit, he found it still intact.

A warning, then. Precognition. Once upon a time, he got them more regularly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one, though.

"Spears, listen carefully," he rasped, his eyes remaining on Grell. "You need to take her scythe immediately and have the stored records safely removed and contained within the library."

He looked up at the young supervisor. "Understand, chap? Don't waste a moment."

"Undertaker, I have already sent Grell's scythe off with Mister Humphries and Mister Slingby; they should have already turned it into the Library and the Collections Department for extraction. I guarantee the utmost care and precautions are being taken; as this is a most delicate situation and none of us wish there to be a mishap," explained William as he ran a hand through his hair; breathing a sigh of relief.

He had nearly been knocked unconscious himself, waking the old codger from his wicked sleep.

"I trust Mister Humphries, Sir. He will be tremendously careful with the records and he knows precisely what must be done with them. So I see no need for me to rush off and check the work of one of my most trusted associates."

Undertaker stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was going even madder than before. Of course, he'd meddled with his own timeline in order to save his lover. Such a thing was bound to have side-effects, and he'd been in a coma for weeks.

Wordlessly, he lay back down and he sighed, gazing at Grell's sleeping visage. Just how badly had he buggered up his own records, with the stunts he'd pulled? There was a reason he'd abandoned Khronos to become the Undertaker, and it wasn't just because of divine mandate that the powers of the ancients were too strong to be passed on. He didn't need the divine to tell him that. The truth was that time manipulation was a power no single being should possess. Not even he had ever known exactly how much he could do with his abilities.

"When you wake," he whispered to Grell, "Khronos will be gone…but Undertaker's still going to be here."

"Would you like some tea or is there something else I could get for you, Sir? Perhaps warm milk?" William asked as he watched the mad reaper lie back down in his provided bed. "I cannot fathom what you were dreaming about, but I can assure you, it was just that; a dream."

Undertaker shook his head and closed his eyes, wondering if he'd ever find laughter again.

Will sighed and turned from the ancient. "Fine, try and see if a more peaceful sleep will find you. I am going to pardon myself for a moment. My tea has grown rather weak and cold. I shan't be more than a moment."

"Ronald." Moira's sweet voice whispered into the blond's ear. He was sound asleep and had been placed in the room next to her's.

She had been asleep for hours, but had woken from yet another nightmare; though this time her dreams were not of the redhead, but of Ronald. Frightened by the images that had played behind her closed eyes; Moira woke a crawled out of her bed and snuck into the hall. Quietly and barefoot, she had padded down the hall. She followed her heart, discovering the young reaper was asleep in the room next to her's. Making sure no one saw her; Moira slowly pushed the door open to Ronald's room and crept inside.

She paused at the foot of his bed and watched him sleep for a moment, before approaching his side. Then carefully she reached out and touched his cheek as she leaned over his resting body and whispered, "Ronald; Ronald, my love. I cannot sleep. I am terrified of my dreams. I needed to see you. Needed to know you were alright."

He reacted to her voice despite the medication that made him so groggy.

"Hey," he said. Hearing how croaky his voice sounded, he cleared his throat. "C'mere, beautiful. Think I c'n…scoot over."

He squirmed on the bed to make room for her, only half-aware of his surroundings.

"Feels like I've…had m' head vacuumed out. 'M still in here, though."

The smile on her lips reached her eyes as she looked down into his sleepy face.

"That is good to know you are still in there. I would be lost without you, if you were not," she whispered slipping onto the bed and under his sheets and blankets.

"I love you," she breathed as she kissed his cheek chastely. Delicately, she laced her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. "I never want to sleep alone again."

"Nnn, sleep is good," he mumbled with a sigh, putting an arm around her. "Nubody should…go without sleep. I'll keep th' nightmares away for ya."

Moira nuzzled his neck and smiled, letting her eyes drift closed.

"Yes, sleep is good. And you…will…you promise to keep the nightmares away?" She yawned.

"I promise," he answered with a nod, "and if I can't keep 'em away completely, at least I'll be right here to comfort ya."

"That…sounds good…to me…" Moira replied in a whisper as her eyes began to close slowly, her hand resting delicately on his chest; just above his heart, "mo ghrá."

-To be continued