The jubilation ended immediately.
'OH NO OH NO OH NO OH NO.' Grim dove at the cloak between the seats.
'Huh, alarm on my phone must be playing up,' Tom said, and he didn't sound at all bothered.
'This is terrible news!' Grim cried, pulling the cloak into the front seat with him. 'When was I supposed to be there?'
'Hang on.' Tom pulled the car over and grabbed the tablet, itself glowing with a hundred reminders of the send he was about to miss. 'Uh, shit. Like ten minutes ago.'
Grim slipped down his seat, clutching the cloak to his chest. Tom watched as it clung to Grim as though its survival depended on him.
'Oh, this is terrible.' Grim went to pull the cloak over his head.
Tom yanked it down. 'What are you doing?'
Grim stared back, frantic. 'What are you doing??'
'Don't put that on. You've fucked it. This Jim guy isn't getting sent.'
Grim's voice leapt an octave. 'I fucked it?' From his mouth poured the type of shrieks that needed two question marks. 'I fucked it??'
'He's a goner, those creepy fuckers are gonna take him. You're fired, you're going in the ground a lot sooner than tomorrow morning.'
'What??'
'Listen. The Judge and the gremlin following him about will be waiting for you there, they'll fire you on the spot. You'll never see Cora again. That's the best case scenario. Given that you told me this guy shoots people for a laugh, that's the best you can hope for. Come with me, you might find Cora before they find you. Maybe she'll give you a hug or-'
'Is she known to cuddle strangers??'
'Well we'll explain you're her real Dad, and-'
'You'll just casually throw it into conversation??'
'Mate... I said I'm sorry.'
'An apology doesn't help, Thomas! Listen, just go yourself, that's what you always wanted, isn't it?? You win your family back, and I’m out the way?? You never even need to tell her, do you??'
Every pair of question marks in his voice made Tom's eye twitch. He gritted his teeth. 'Calm down... My phone’s-'
'You're her Dad and I'm worm food! Congratulations!'
The sarcasm was worse. Tom had never heard him be sarcastic before. The hot ball of rage at the bottom of his guts fired up.
Grim waved his arms around like a lunatic. 'Here's your plan, Dad. Here's you-your fucking plan.'
'Right, you swear now. Cool.'
'You make me t-take my cloak off, and then don't tell me I'm supposed to put it back on. Right? Right? Then The Judge kills me, and Tom's the hero!'
Tom ignored the fact that earlier on he had planned to kidnap Grim when he replied. 'Right, you're out of line.'
'Nope! No sir!' The edges on Grim's face became deadly when he got riled up. All those sharp angles and sinister points jabbing at him for blood. He scratched his ear with frightening ferocity, his eyes bulged. 'This is what it's always been about! Cutting me out your life so you- I knew I shouldn't take this off! You made me! This is all your fault!'
Right.
Tom punched the dashboard to shut Grim up and then spoke in low tones. 'Y'know what? Nah. It's not all my fault. Everything that's gone wrong in your life isn't someone else's fault, pal. You took years to ask May out, not because she wasn't looking at you, but because you're a fucking coward. I didn't take her from you, you handed her to me because you're boring. Just a boring, skinny wimp. May fancied a bit of excitement. And I'm fucking exciting. Oh, and I didn't keep Cora away from you, you let me have her. Again, you’re a coward. No spine, fucking none.' Tom leant into Grim's personal space with one hand on his backrest and the other on the steering wheel. 'And while I'm on the subject, a little bit of recent bullshit to pull you up on, you didn't crash the car and die because May let you have Cora, you'd still be dead if I'd gotten my way. I don't know how you crashed that fucking car, but it was your fault, hear me? Yours. I only stepped up to fill your big goofy shoes because someone had to. The bar was pretty low, mind you. Let's be honest, Cora could’ve died in that car with you.'
Grim stared into the footwell with his desperate, vibrating cloak clinging to him.
Tom could have kept going if he tried. He didn't feel sorry, not at that point.
'Your life isn't pish, you’re pish. Now get the fuck out of my car.'
~
In the rear mirror, as he drove away, Tom saw Grim trying to put the cloak on against fierce winds.
He turned the corner to be rid of the view, then the guilt cranked up.
At the police station, he skidded to a stop and started screaming. 'MOTHERFUCKER!' he cried, slapping the steering wheel around and spraying blood over his dashboard.
Twice he had left Grim in the rain, and twice guilt took over him as soon as he did. It didn't seem fair that he felt like this, not when he was so close.
He thought of going back.
With the tablet, he could find out where Grim was supposed to be. He had the exact address. But Grim would never make that send, which meant he was fired and The Judge would be after him. Tom might do something stupid like try to save Grim, but he lacked Grim's immortality, and he was going up against a man who shot people for a laugh - his odds sucked.
Plus - he thought as he dug two sheets of paper from the spot they nestled behind his testicles - he had something.
He recognised the name on those papers. He straightened the sheets out, flattening them against the steering wheel.
Beneath the blood, he read her name: Lisa Reid. He knew he had seen it somewhere before, likely in one of his newspapers reporting the missing. He held the rock-solid evidence he needed to shake the police into action tonight, or he could trade it for a failing rescue attempt.
Tom was so close, he couldn't lose hope again. He didn't think he would survive it.
Gently this time, he lay his head on the bloodied steering wheel. If he got out the car; if he went into the police station; if he handed in the evidence; if hard evidence had to be investigated right away - he could have his daughter back.
But without Grim, he would still have nothing.
Tom owed him so much.
He tried to remember he didn't like Grim. He tried to force himself to acknowledge all the ways he had been wound up by the lanky fucker. Grim - with his silly unprotected willy - took from him a life of travel and adventure, even if he gained a daughter out of it.
Tom told himself he didn't care.
Tom told himself to leave the car and walk into the police station and start putting his family back together.
It was his destiny to find me.
It was his destiny, on the 26th November 2016, to find his daughter.
With a piece of knackered, torn and bloodied paper in his left hand and the steering wheel in the other, Tom thought of going back.
~
Thirty-Five
Grim’s Inability to Comfort a Grieving Child
I like to think somewhere out there, in some distant alternate reality, Grim didn't die. I haven't known of his existence for long, but I've put a lot of thought into the idea.
I'm not keen on my reality. My reality gave me one and a half parents. It's a reality where - without Grim - Tom kinda hates me.
So, call me self-centered, but yeah I like to imagine a world where I'm being argued over by two Dads.
Some people don't have families at all, but a reality exists where I have extra. Three parents, where they love me so much that two of them actually hate each other. That comforts me.
A preview of the life I craved occurred while I had the darnedest luck to be kidnapped, and I’m gutted I missed it.
I like to think of that reality in particular, but there are millions of possible realities where millions of different Grims, and Toms, and Coras do millions of different things in a million different ways.
Regardless, I know in not one of them is Grim capable of comforting a grieving child.
I know based off this one particular part of the story.
The p
art where Grim solved the whole day.
~
'You can take your jacket off if you like?' Cass said, putting a cup of tea down on the table in front of him. 'I can't reach the hanger, but I could-'
'No, I'm fine.' Grim said as he reached for his tea while gripping the cloak to his chest. 'Sorry.'
The details of tea making were vague to Cass; she knew it involved a teabag and not much else. She tried her best.
Grim lifted the cup to the black hole under his hood and took a sip.
Cass waited until he swallowed. 'How is it?'
'Lovely.' Grim put the cup down in a hurry.
He had taken a seat at the far end of the couch and hunched down into the cloak like somehow it kept him safe.
~
The insight of a ten-year-old, eh?
~
Cass shivered, Grim noticed.
'Sorry, that's me,' he said. 'The cloak is eh... cold.'
'Oh. Okay.'
'I can't take it off though, so... sorry.'
'Okay.'
'I eh... I'm in... I...' He scratched at his ear under the hood and shrunk back into the seat.
A sound drifted into the room, surrounding them.
Cass couldn't place it, probably because she had never experienced a crying grown-up before. Even then, Grim was a particular type of grown-up whose cry sounded like one car in the middle of one long skid on a wet surface with bald tyres.
Cass didn't pin the noise to Grim at first. She thought maybe a lady mouse got into the house somehow and fought with another lady mouse, and they both got hurt at the exact same time.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
'Are you okay?' she asked when she ascertained the source of the noise was her guest.
'N-no, I-' EEEEEEEEEEE. 'I d-don't think I am a-a-a-at all.'
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Grim pulled his legs up onto the couch and hugged his knees.
The ten-year-old without a Dad shuffled up and patted him on the leg. 'What happened?'
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
'I'm fine!' EEEEEEEEEE. 'It-It's nothing! I've made a-a mistake!'
He cried for a while.
Unsure how to handle the situation, Cass patted his leg a bit faster. It was all she could think to do.
It obviously didn't help.
Cass thought about times where she felt sad, and what her Mum and Dad did to help her.
But that made her think of her Dad.
And her Dad died less than an hour ago.
So she started to cry.
Cass had the volume, but Grim had the pitch. Her eyes poured water she couldn't keep in as she decided to cuddle up to Grim in his corner.
He held out an arm and welcomed her in.
The Reaper and a ten-year-old girl, having a bit of a cry.
~
After ten minutes, their cries softened to a bubbling. And then sniffling. And then Cass realised how freezing she was.
She separated from him and crawled back to the other end of the couch. She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and thought about how she had been told a thousand times in school not to talk to strangers.
Grim sat up and cleared his throat, adjusting the buttons on his cloak. 'I'm sorry about that.'
Sniff.
'I'm sorry about your Dad. I'm sorry I- I'm just sorry, I suppose.'
'It's okay...' she lied. Cass dug her fingernails into her jeans. Her vision blurred.
'...Did he ever see Star Wars?'
Cass turned to him. He sat with his hands in his lap, the black hole where his face should be tilted at her. 'What's that got to do with anything?'
'I've been asking my sends today, I... like to ask them. Nobody should die without seeing Star Wars. I died on my way to see the new-‘
'You died?' Cass blurted, clinging to his words. 'You died, and you're here, could my Dad-'
'N-no... I'm sorry.'
'Okay...' Her bottom lip started to quiver.
~
See what I mean? This guy sucks with kids.
~
Grim tried to add reason to his words. 'Coming back isn't all it's made out to be, anyway.'
Cass lay face down on the couch, soaking the cushion.
'I'm back, and my daughter doesn't know I exist.'
Cass lifted her head, mopping tears from her face. 'How come?' she said, speaking through a snotty nose.
'Well, she got a new Dad.'
'A new Dad?'
'Uh-huh. And you might get a new Dad too and... your new Dad will be okay.'
'You?'
'Oh, dear, no. But he could be a nice man who loves you as much as your old Dad did? You need a Dad and-'
'No.'
Grim shut up.
Everything he said either upset or annoyed her. She couldn't be bothered with him anymore. She planted her head back into the drowned pillow and waited for Grim to let himself out.
He took the hint, standing. 'Can I ask when your Mum will be home?'
'Dunno.'
'Right. I should phone someone to come look after you, is-'
'Dunno.'
'Right.'
Grim approached her. She peeked out of her damp burrow in the cushion as he crouched at her side. He took his hood down.
Cass didn't expect to see a man, for some reason. He was just a guy with a jaggy face, two black eyes and a pair of staples in his cheek. 'I really hope your Dad does come back.'
'Me too.'
'But you need to do something, okay? Something important. What's your Dad's name?'
'Uh... his name's Jim.'
'Right, good. Now listen, write his name down and hide it somewhere safe, okay? You write Jim on a piece of paper and put it somewhere no one will ever find it, ever. So you'll remember.'
'Okay... But I don't think I'll forget.'
Grim shrugged, unaware his next words were critical. 'Well if he comes back they're going to try and change his name. They'll make you forget.'
'Make me forget?'
'Yes, they'll make you forget.'
The penny still hadn't quite dropped.
'How?'
'I don't have a clue. Magic, I suppose. They make people forget things, even people's names. They can climb into your head and... and...'
Solved.
He nodded.
A car skidded into the car park, making a noise like Grim crying.
Grim stood up.
And then he sat down on the couch.
Then he stood up again, faster.
He stammered. 'Oh dear, oh dear.' He began pacing the room. 'Nobody remembered my name when I came back. They erase it. They get rid of your name, your life, your job, your bank details, your home, AH!'
Cass sat up. 'Mister... mister are you okay?'
'They took my name little g- what's your name?'
'Cass.'
'Great! I don't have a name because they took it away. It's them, Cass. It's the Court, it's him. He's done it, he's got the missing people, all of them. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.'
'What do you mean? Mister, I don't-'
'They change your brain, Cass! They make you think you never knew their name, they make you think it's normal to not know. Like a-a-a-a blip! Like a blip! Like, oh what's his name again? Oh well! I need to go, I need to go, I need to go.'
They heard the door to the flat open and footsteps in the hall. A heavy presence beyond the living room, lumbering towards them.
Grim spun.
The door burst open.
It was either Tom or Derek.
~
Thirty-Six
Fuck Him
Tom thought about going back.
The steering wheel in one hand, the bloodied paper in the other.
Both hands throbbed and hurt to use. Both hands were cut.
He thought about Grim.
He swallowed back a regret - a choking regret he hoped would fade.
It was his destiny to find his daughter.
He ran a bloody hand down his face, m
uttered 'fuck him,' and got out of the car.
~
Thirty-Seven
Fetch Derek, Good Boy Derek
The attic in Rabbit Manor was completely empty.
That fucking baffled me.
I mean, the rest of the mansion wasn't exactly minimalist. Sure, the lobby was just a rug, a chandelier and a set of stairs (in a world where a chandelier could ever be considered minimalist), but we're looking at a guy who couldn't swing a cat in most rooms for fear of hitting several other cats. So when I discovered he had an empty room - an attic, of all the rooms to leave in such a state - it stunned me. Empty, only a bare wood floor from one end to the other, a rotting door and a window in the shape of a half moon.
When the hot exercise-sweat wore off and left behind cold anxiety-sweat, Derek got a chill. His body popped breaths out in shaking puffs.
Feeling the nerves and determined to calm them, he pinched a pill from his jacket and tipped it between his chattering teeth. The anti-anxiety meds were helping with his heartbeat and his confusing arsenal of feelings, but they did nothing for the pain. His back was broken in at least one way, his cheek was swollen and numb, only one of his feet seemed able to hold his weight without the threat of a bone jutting out, and he was dizzy all the time.
In spite of the medicine and in spite of the pain, Derek pushed forward with clarity. Judge Rabbit would be proud of him for his achievements thus far. His friend, The Judge, would shake his hand for his sacrifices.
In front of him, tied to a chair, out cold with his chin touching his chest, was Grim. His hooded head lolled around.
Derek had thrown his first punch earlier.
~
Derek was hurt.
He realised this as he drove to the beekeeper's house, struggling to operate the pedals.
He screeched into a parking spot, climbed out of the car and hobbled to the door. His professional walk was in tatters, along with his hard-nut walk and his regular walk - all of his walks were ruined. He kept his back straight and his weight on his healthy foot: his penguin walk.
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