 A figure walked slowly down the long hall. She was nearly invisible and the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights overhead, only coming into view as she passed by the windows, a specter in a white dress illuminated by the faint moonlight. She was a tall woman and thin, with a stern face that only rarely softened into beauty when she let herself smile. That had not happened in many, many years. At the door to room 231, she turned, tracing a small symbol on it with a finger before walking through the solid wood. Once inside, she crossed to the bed with a silent, inhuman grace. She stood over the old man in the bed for a heavy moment as the room grew colder around them, fog forming on the window. A subtle movement and something appeared in her hand, a knife, long and wickedly sharp. It was in the second before she raised it that the man in the bed woke up. Roomy eyes snapped open, focusing clearly on her, and a gaunt, bony hand raised out of the bed, reaching towards the strange woman. Jeannie? The old man wheezed. It wasn't her name, of course. The woman with the knife, if she could really be called a woman, had been known by many names over many centuries, and none of them had ever been Jeannie. It was Mary now, or Bloody Mary, a name she hated, even if it was well earned. Still, her knife hand wavered. She'd never killed anyone so old before. Jeannie, come here. The old man whispered, How was your drive? Your mother and I missed you like crazy. He must think I'm his daughter, Mary thought to herself. He looked so small in the bed, all bone and shriveled skin. There were no flowers or cards in his room, just bare walls and generic decor on the dresser. He must have been alone a long time. Oh God, it's cold. The man's hand had fallen back to the bed, and he'd begun shivering as the temperature plummeted. Something in Mary changed as she watched him, a piece of herself that she'd thought long dead woke. He'd killed countless children and teens, but this was different. Mary reached a handout. The knife disappearing as she moved and grasped the blanket at the foot of the bed, and pulled it over the man. Tears formed in his eyes again as he reached for her. Jeannie, why didn't you visit? Mary said nothing. She'd say nothing to a mortal, but she had one thing left in her to grant. She reached out and took his hand, holding it with a hand that should have killed him. When she touched him, Mary could feel in the heat of his body that the old man didn't have much time left. She'd made too close a friend of death after all these years to miss things like that. The man fell asleep, and as the night passed, Mary stood there unmoving beside him, holding a mortal hand for the first time in so long as she watched his breathing grow slower and slower, finally stopping altogether. She could feel the life leave his body at the point where they touched. A moment later, there was a faint rustle in the room, a robed figure coming quickly from a long way off. Mary? What are you still doing here? The voice came from behind her, but seemed to echo strangely throughout the room. Its owner obeyed no laws on the mortal plane. Hey, Grimm. She said softly. Mary didn't know how to respond. It had been too long since she'd felt like this. You okay? My docket says you were supposed to stab him three and a half hours ago. I was going to. I had the knife, but I just couldn't. He called me by his daughter's name. Yeah, says here Mr. Johnston had dementia. He was in his nineties. More rustling behind her, paper this time, the Grimm Reaper was consulting his notes. Damn, looks like this guy had a hard life. Grimm, what happened to his daughter Jeannie? Hmm, let me see. Ah, there it is. House fire, back in O2. Wow, you don't want to know about the rest of it honestly. Poor bastard. Mary stared down at the body for a long time, while Grimm waited patiently. He didn't really understand what was happening with her, but he and Mary had been friends a long time. She'd earned some consideration. Can I help you take his soul home? Mary asked, I don't think I'm ready to let go of this one yet. Yeah, sure thing, you know how to do this. The Reaper rolled up the long black sleeves of his cloak, preparing to get to the dirty business of his harvest. I know the basics, you've talked about them a lot. When we get back, I want to try to find Jeannie for him. She said, this one really got to me. The Reaper blinked hard. He hadn't seen this much sentimentality in his friend since she was a very young ghost. My lunch break is coming up after this. Want me to help you look? Thanks, that would be nice. Mary gently set the old man's hand down on the bed, and in the pre-dawn darkness of Rome 231, she smiled.