A Scripta

For once, Grim's hair was down. He had combed it back, so that it made him look a little more normal. He looked in the mirror of the base's bathroom, then came out of it and went back to his room. Stefan sat up in bed, watching him.

Grim turned to him. Grim hadn't mentioned why he got up so early, or what made him get dressed up. Finally, he said, "I have a funeral to go to."

Stefan nodded, knowing that if Grim wanted him to go, he would have asked.

"I need to do this by myself."

"All right," Stefan said, shoved the covers off, and stood up. He and Grim could sense each other's emotions, and Stefan sent love and compassion to Grim, who returned it as well. He hugged Grim, and Grim rested his forehead on Stefan's shoulder.

"I should be back soon."

"Be safe," Stefan said, and kissed him gently.

Grim left the room, and headed downstairs. He didn't smell the tell-tale signs of coffee being brewed, because Jack was in the Isles. No one else was awake at this hour.

The funeral home was in Founders', so he flew most of the way there, landing about a block away from it. He walked along the streets, avoiding Crey, and walked into the small building. The parking lot was near empty, which surprised him. He remembered his father being a popular man in his sales firm - maybe most of the people he knew were in Florida now.

He went inside, and an undertaker held the door open for him. "Good morning, sir, are you here for Mr. LeBonte?"

"Yes," Grim said, and followed the direction the man pointed. He went to the last door on the left and stood in the doorway. He glanced at the room inside - about a dozen people sat in the room. Against the wall, the condolence line consisted of his sister and her husband and her sons and daughter - boy, they got big since he had last seen them.

Grim walked over to the casket. Although a bier was there, he didn't kneel. He made a motion drawing a rune to see if the man's soul was there. It wasn't even in the room. He raised his head and looked at the few bunches of flowers that adorned the casket. Then, he took a deep breath and turned slowly to face his sister, who had gotten up and stood looking at him curiously.

He walked the few steps to her, feeling like he was crossing a great divide. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her - she looked so beaten, so tired. Even though all he did was pay for his father's comfort, it seemed to have done nothing to ease his sister.

She held out her hand. "Hello, Marie," Grim said, taking her hand. "Don't remember me, do you?"

Marie peered at him. "Mikey?"

He nodded and smiled slightly. "Yeah."

She hadn't let go of his hand, in fact, didn't even squeeze it, she was frozen in shock. Grim squeezed her hand, to try and get her to respond. Her husband - John? Joe? he'd forgotten - moved to stand closer to her. "Marie?" he asked.

"They said..." Marie choked out, "They said...you were dead."

"I know," Grim said. "The Circle took me."

"The Circle?"

"Circle of Thorns. A magical cult." He finally released her, but her eyes were still wide.

Her husband guided Marie down to the chair, and looked up at Grim. "Look, I don't know who you are, but whatever you did, you just added to her misery."

"I remember you when you were courting her," Grim said to him. "You took me and Louie out to a baseball game with her once."

"Louie," Marie whispered.

"Dead," Grim said, and looked down at her.

"Mikey?" asked the man.

"Yes."

Now the man rose up, and attempted to intimidate Grim. "I think we need to talk."

"John," Marie put a hand on her husband's forearm and looked up at him, "not now."

Grim stood him down. "I paid for the nursing home and the care. I shouldn't have even done that."

"He was your father," John snarled.

"In name."

Marie looked at him. "How can you say that, Mikey? He gave everything for us."

"Oh? And three months after mom died he was already dating another woman? Who didn't care about us and left us to fend for ourselves? Don't think I forgot that, Marie."

"When he heard you died, he was devestated."

Grim rocked back on his heels, looking down at his sister.

"Gwen tried to help, but she couldn't and she left. He was alone, but then..." She looked up at him. "Then he fell back into his old ways."

Which meant womanizing and drinking, playing poker until the wee hours of the morning. Grim wondered how many girlfriends he had gone through before getting to the nursing home. How much liquor. How much money.

"God helps fools and children," Grim said quietly. "I'm surprised he lived as long as he did."

John got up and into Grim's face. Grim's expression turned cold.

"Not my fault we weren't from the perfect Norman Rockwell home like you, John," Grim said, boring into John's eyes. John did not back down, in fact, kept eye contact as he moved back slightly. "Want to talk? Let's step outside."

"Let's," John said, and grabbed his coat.

"Dad," said Junior.

"We're going to talk," John said, and glared at Grim. "Right?"

"Sure," Grim said, and glanced down at Marie. He almost asked her how many pieces she wanted to have John returned as. "The service is in half an hour. We have at least that long."

The two men slowly walked out of the funeral parlor. John whirled around, and Grim backed up, assuming a battle stance and pulling up a shield. John stared at him. "What the--"

"Protective instincts," he said, and straightened, though he didn't take down the shield.

"You've got some nerve," John said, looking at Grim but watching the shield flow around him. "What did you expect to do? Have her welcome you with open arms?"

"I didn't come here for her," Grim said. "I came here to make see if he needed assistance to the afterlife."

John stared at him. "What?"

"I'm a psychopomp. I'll bet you don't even know what that means." He put his hands in his pockets. "It means a guider of souls. He may have been a prick, but it's my job to make sure he would have headed off to whatever afterlife he was meant to go to." He looked back at the door. "Unfortunately, someone beat me to it."

"Who?" He looked a little worried.

"My mother," he said. "Don't worry, he's not in hell, but he's certainly not in heaven." Grim brought the shield down and looked at John. "Tell Marie goodbye for me. She doesn't have to see me if she doesn't want to." He started to walk away.

John called after him, "Are you an angel?"

Grim turned around and smiled. "In training."