Written while listening to TITANIC soundtrack. Please enjoy...
I do not own Kuroshitsuji. I wish I did, but because I do not own anything but the plot and a few oc's, DISCLAIMER.
April 31st, 1912
William T Spears felt numb. It was not the good kind of numb that came from painkillers either, THAT would have been a merciful reprieve from what he felt now. No, this was the kind of numb that could only mean you had just recieved the worst kind of news. His usually tidy desk was littered with recent newspapers, All having similar headlines. "Titanic tragedy claims thousands!" one read. "Tragedy..." he thought bitterly. It was no secret in the Shinigami Realm that Angels had been behind the whole undoing. In the weeks following the incident, He had began a habit of reading up on the list of confirmed dead. The Dispatch in New York had been helpful to the London supervisor in going through every list and every file... Until today, when the telegram arrived confirming his fears.
It had started as a normal visit to Undertakers shop, Tea, Biscuits, Mindless chit chat... until the senior Reaper cleared his throat.
"Why are you REALLY here Spears?" the playful, slightly insane tone was gone and replaced with one that was reminiscent of before the older mans retirement. Will sighed and looked at the ground.
"The Americans need a few reapers to help with a situation out their way."
"So? you have four of the finest shinigami I've ever seen working for you." Will choked on his tea at the words.
"FOUR? With all due respect sir, I count THREE HALFWAY DECENT reapers and ONE very RED pain in my arse." Undertaker started to crack up laughing.
"SHE's a pain in YOUR arse!" the elder laughed. "I could've SWORN it was the other way 'round." The Brunette's face flushed red and his eyebrow started to twitch. He was CLEARLY not amused at the Undertakers idea of a joke.
"Well if HE would focus more on HIS JOB..." he started, "WE'D be less flooded and have more time to actually help other branches."
He rubbed his eyes. Had he seriously been crying just now? His thoughts went back to the papers at his desk and the telegram resting on the top of the pile. He sighed as he recalled the initial reports. Of the thousands on the vessel, there had only been 3 shinigami, A young Norwegian, a French girl, and Grell... The Norwegian and French girls made it to New York. But, until today, the other had listed as missing by the American Dispatch.
"So send her to America."
"You yourself said that part of the London Branch's problem is Miss Sutcliff's lack of focus." Undertaker shrugged. "But even YOU can't deny that when her heart's in it, she's the finest shinigami ever trained. So your solution is simple, Send HER to America to help them, and YOU FOUR can use that time to catch up on work here in London." He folded his hands together and smiled like he had solved the biggest questions in life. William adjusted his glasses and sighed.
"Let me get this straight... YOU. Want ME. To send SUTCLIFF. To AMERICA. Do you realize the trouble that man could cause for those poor fools?" Undertaker just nodded.
Undertaker had been at the Library every day since the incident. Working alongside William and Ronald to find a sign, a clue, ANYTHING that would point to the flamboyant reaper surviving. He had been there the morning news of the ships fate reached London. He had witnessed word of two of the three's arrival being relayed to the London Branch, and had felt the worry when it was revealed to be the other two reapers. And he had been here tonight, when a last minute telegram had been delivered straight into the hands of the supervisor, and a feeling of dread slowly began to overtake him, until he looked into the younger man's eyes. He couldn't be certain what his successor was feeling, although grief, agony, and heartbreak were all good contenders. But after seeing the pain written in the green eyes, he knew exactly what that telegram said.
"Body lost at sea..." he read the words over and over again. the only sign the reapers working the ocean could find was a red jacket, torn to tatters and rags, stained with blood. But it was intact enough to confirm who it belonged to. He didn't want to believe that the feminine male was really gone. A noise brought his attention to the other occupant in the room. Will ground his teeth and glared at the elder shinigami.
"What a pity," Undertaker mumbled. "such a lovely lady, the least she could've done is let them find her bo-"
"DON'T!" William roared at him. "Don't start that 'too bad there's no body' sphiel! It's YOUR fault he's gone! If YOU hadn't been so insistent on me sending him, He'd STILL BE ALIVE!" it was all the older man could do not to cross the room and backhand the younger one across the mouth. 'he's hurting. you'd be the same way. he's your replacement. do you REALLY want to explain why the dispatch supervisor now has a irrepareable broken jaw?' he mentally held back his retort and simply excused himself. After hearing the door click shut, Will buried his face in his hands, and cried.
March 29th, 2011
(nearly 1 Century later)
Shinigami Dispatch living quarters
"Yes Boss Senpai?" the younger man with two toned hair looked up at his superior.
"You're in charge in my absense." Will said, shutting the suitcase on his bed. In less than an hour, he'd be on a plane to New York City. From there, he'd catch a smaller flight to DC. He looked around his apartment one last time, trying to think if he needed anything else, when something in a otherwise empty drawer caught his eye. He picked up the old photograph and wiped away the dust on the glass. Looking at the image in the frame, he felt a lump catch in his throat. Next to the picture was a small box. Inside the box was a ring.
He'd made his desicion, after better than a century of dating, he was going to propose. he'd been very specific in choosing the ring, a silver band, a Pink Sapphires(They DO exist, they look almost RED) center stone, and small diamonds on either side. It was classy, elegant, and it suited his lovers personality.
"Hard to believe it's been almost a hundred years sir." Ronald shifted uncomfortably. Ever since loosing Grell, His mentor had been Eric Slingby. Not that that was such a bad thing, but he kinda missed the wild redhead. William just nodded and placed both photo and ring box into a small backpack.