Chapter Text
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DEATH TAKES A PERSONAL DAY
Death stood in Susan’s classroom, invisible to everyone except Susan herself.
He was leaning slightly on his scythe.
This was unusual.
Susan noticed immediately, because Susan noticed things like that, the way some people notice weather changes or impending disasters or the precise moment when a class of children has decided that learning has ended for the day.
She continued marking essays anyway.
The word alot appeared again.
Susan circled it with surgical fury.
SUSAN, Death said.
“No.”
YOU DIDN’T HEAR WHAT I—
“No,” she repeated. “I’m teaching. You are interrupting. Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
Death hesitated.
Death did not often hesitate. Eternity tends to iron that habit out of a person. But today he did.
I WOULD LIKE A DAY OFF, he said.
Susan’s pen stopped.
Slowly, carefully, she looked up.
“A… what?”
A DAY OFF.
“You’re Death.”
YES.
“You don’t get days off.”
Death tilted his skull slightly. This was his equivalent of a frown.
I AM AWARE. THAT IS WHY THIS IS DIFFICULT.
Susan put the pen down. Not angrily. That was worse.
“Why.”
Death considered the question. He always did. He believed answers should be accurate.
I AM… TIRED.
That, more than anything else, made Susan go still.
“You don’t get tired.”
I DO NOT GET PHYSICALLY FATIGUED, Death said.
BUT I GET… WEARY.
The classroom clock ticked. Children scribbled. Someone sniffed glue in the back row with great dedication.
EVERYONE DIES, Death went on. ALL THE TIME. ALL AT ONCE. I AM ALWAYS PRESENT AT THE WORST MOMENT OF EVERY LIFE.
Susan folded her arms.
“And?”
I WOULD LIKE ONE DAY WHERE I AM NOT.
Silence stretched.
“That’s not possible,” Susan said finally.
I KNOW.
“People would die alone.”
YES.
“They’d be frightened.”
YES.
Susan’s jaw tightened.
“You can’t just walk away.”
Death nodded.
I KNOW. THAT IS WHY I AM ASKING YOU.
She laughed once. A sharp, incredulous sound.
“Oh absolutely not.”
IT WOULD ONLY BE FOR A DAY.
“No.”
I WOULD FREEZE TIME IN YOUR CLASSROOM.
“No.”
I WOULD MARK THE ESSAYS.
Susan hesitated.
“…properly?”
WITH GREAT THOROUGHNESS.
“No,” she said again, firmly. “I’m not you. I can’t do what you do.”
Death’s voice softened.
YOU CAN. YOU JUST DON’T WANT TO.
“That’s the same thing!”
IT IS NOT.
Susan stood up.
“Grandfather. People don’t need a replacement. They need you. You’re kind. You’re—”
PATIENT, Death supplied.
“Yes. And careful. And you explain things.”
SO DO YOU.
Susan opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Looked away.
“Why today,” she asked quietly.
Death looked at the hourglass in his hands. The sand flowed. It always flowed.
TODAY A CHILD DIES PEACEFULLY. TODAY A WOMAN DIES TOO SOON. TODAY A MAN DIES ANGRY AND ALONE.
He paused.
TODAY A CAT DIES ON A WINDOWSILL IN THE SUN.
Susan swallowed.
“I hate it when you do that.”
YOU ASKED.
She exhaled slowly.
“One day,” she said. “Just one.”
YES.
“And you owe me.”
I ALWAYS DO.
---
Susan found herself on Binky, wearing the robe.
It fit.
Of course it fit.
The scythe felt right in her hands in a way she deeply resented.
The first soul was an old woman who smiled when she saw Susan.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re young.”
“I’m filling in,” Susan replied. “He’s taking a day off.”
The woman nodded. “Good. He works too hard.”
Susan blinked.
“He does, doesn’t he.”
---
The second soul cried.
Susan sat with them.
She explained.
She waited.
She did not rush.
---
The third soul argued.
Susan listened.
She did not argue back.
---
By the fifth, she understood the rhythm.
By the tenth, she understood the weight.
By the one she would not speak about later, she understood why Death never complained.
---
When Death returned, Susan was sitting in his study, staring into space.
She looked older.
YOU ARE BACK, Death said gently.
“Did you have a nice day?” she asked.
I FED THE DUCKS, Death said. THEY ARE AGGRESSIVE.
She snorted despite herself.
“Yeah,” she said. “That tracks.”
HOW WAS IT?
Susan stood up and handed him the scythe.
“I don’t want to do that again.”
I HOPED YOU WOULDN’T.
“But I understand why you do.”
Death nodded.
THAT IS ENOUGH.
She poured herself a drink.
“Did anyone… notice?”
NO. THE DEAD WERE KIND.
“They usually are,” Susan said quietly. “It’s the living that are difficult.”
YES, Death agreed. THAT IS WHY I MISSED YOU TODAY.
Susan froze.
“…you did?”
I LIKE KNOWING YOU ARE ALIVE, Death said. IT MAKES MY JOB EASIER.
Susan swallowed.
“Well,” she said gruffly, “don’t make a habit of it.”
I WON’T, Death promised. NOT OFTEN.
She sighed.
“I hate that you’re still going to do this forever.”
YES.
“And I hate that I’d help again.”
YES.
They sat in companionable silence.
“Grandfather?”
YES, SUSAN?
“Next time you want a day off…”
She paused.
“…ask me first.”
Death smiled.