Fic: Fish Instead of Sticks, Furniture Instead of Rope
Title: Fish Instead of Sticks, Furniture Instead of Rope
Rating: For All Ages
Fandom: Being Human / Sandman
Summary: Annie had expected the men with the sticks and rope.
Disclaimer: While the characters within are not my property, nor am I earning any profit from the writing or posting of it.
This tale is a part of an on-going challenge to myself, carefully crossing over all of my favorite fandoms with Discworld or Sandman to allow key characters to chat with Death, in one form or another. I like the theme, because, well, I like introspection, and both DEATH and Death are lovely characters to write for. I hope you enjoy.
Annie stepped forward hesitantly, wondering where...the men were. It had taken years to work through the fear of what would happen when she finally gave up and went to them.
But the end of the tunnel wasn't the way she remembered it. At the end of the tunnel was...an apartment, a cheery little place dominated by a wide couch and a goldfish bowl with a small, vivid creature swimming around inside of it.
Annie took a few more steps forward. She leaned over the bowl, and dipped her fingers in the water.
"Do you like fish?"
Annie spun at the voice; she hadn't seen anyone behind her, and she still expected something horrible to spring up if she let her guard down.
It was only a young woman, a white girl with night-black hair and eyes so clear Annie thought she could see herself in them. She was a tiny thing, barely bigger than Annie, and was dressed all in black, leather pants and a simple v-neck. She was smiling, which might have been a good sign.
The woman drifted past Annie and carefully tugged her hand out of the water. "So, do you?"
"What?" Annie asked. "Oh! I suppose so; I was just surprised to see a...I am dead, aren't I? Properly, this time, I mean."
"I don't get many visitors who aren't," the girl replied. She took a step away from Annie, eyeing her curiously. "Have a long trip?" she asked.
Annie glanced down, but didn't see anything that would have told this girl what she'd been doing.
"I...hung around for a while," she said. "I...can I ask a question, or is this one of those deals where you answer in cryptic nonsense."
The girl smiled cheekily. "It depends on what your question is," she said.
"Ah." Annie glanced around the room again, and then wrapped her arms around her chest. "Well. When I first...died, it was...it wasn't like this. There wasn't a pretty goth girl and her goldfish. There were..."
Annie trailed off when she saw the wide-eyed, sympathetic expression on the girl's face. "What?" she asked.
"You were so sad when you died, Annie. You hated yourself almost as much as you hated-"
"I don't want to talk about him."
"Right," the girl allowed. "My realm isn't objective, Annie. You were terrified of me. What you saw was -- what death was to you."
"But Mitchell-"
"Mitchell is hardly any less terrified of death than you are," the girl said gently. "I'm glad you're here, Annie. I'm glad you're not frightened any longer." She stretched out a hand to Annie, but Annie took a step away, unwilling to take what she knew was the last step.
"Is -- are they going to be all right?" she asked. "George and -- Mitchell?"
"George is coming as soon as he's ready," the girl replied.
"And Mitchell?"
"He has more time to work it out, but he's as welcome here as you are, Annie." The girl smiled again, and Annie felt the last vestiges of her anxiety slip away. This had been the one thing that nagged at her sometimes, that Mitchell was somehow...barred, because of what he was. She didn't doubt that he'd find his way, in time.
So she nodded, feeling the tears -- or the memory of tears -- gathering in her eyes. "I'm ready," she said.
The girl's smile widened, and she pulled Annie close to her, folding her arms around the one-time ghost's chest. There was the sound of wings...
And Annie was finished.
Rating: For All Ages
Fandom: Being Human / Sandman
Summary: Annie had expected the men with the sticks and rope.
Disclaimer: While the characters within are not my property, nor am I earning any profit from the writing or posting of it.
This tale is a part of an on-going challenge to myself, carefully crossing over all of my favorite fandoms with Discworld or Sandman to allow key characters to chat with Death, in one form or another. I like the theme, because, well, I like introspection, and both DEATH and Death are lovely characters to write for. I hope you enjoy.
Annie stepped forward hesitantly, wondering where...the men were. It had taken years to work through the fear of what would happen when she finally gave up and went to them.
But the end of the tunnel wasn't the way she remembered it. At the end of the tunnel was...an apartment, a cheery little place dominated by a wide couch and a goldfish bowl with a small, vivid creature swimming around inside of it.
Annie took a few more steps forward. She leaned over the bowl, and dipped her fingers in the water.
"Do you like fish?"
Annie spun at the voice; she hadn't seen anyone behind her, and she still expected something horrible to spring up if she let her guard down.
It was only a young woman, a white girl with night-black hair and eyes so clear Annie thought she could see herself in them. She was a tiny thing, barely bigger than Annie, and was dressed all in black, leather pants and a simple v-neck. She was smiling, which might have been a good sign.
The woman drifted past Annie and carefully tugged her hand out of the water. "So, do you?"
"What?" Annie asked. "Oh! I suppose so; I was just surprised to see a...I am dead, aren't I? Properly, this time, I mean."
"I don't get many visitors who aren't," the girl replied. She took a step away from Annie, eyeing her curiously. "Have a long trip?" she asked.
Annie glanced down, but didn't see anything that would have told this girl what she'd been doing.
"I...hung around for a while," she said. "I...can I ask a question, or is this one of those deals where you answer in cryptic nonsense."
The girl smiled cheekily. "It depends on what your question is," she said.
"Ah." Annie glanced around the room again, and then wrapped her arms around her chest. "Well. When I first...died, it was...it wasn't like this. There wasn't a pretty goth girl and her goldfish. There were..."
Annie trailed off when she saw the wide-eyed, sympathetic expression on the girl's face. "What?" she asked.
"You were so sad when you died, Annie. You hated yourself almost as much as you hated-"
"I don't want to talk about him."
"Right," the girl allowed. "My realm isn't objective, Annie. You were terrified of me. What you saw was -- what death was to you."
"But Mitchell-"
"Mitchell is hardly any less terrified of death than you are," the girl said gently. "I'm glad you're here, Annie. I'm glad you're not frightened any longer." She stretched out a hand to Annie, but Annie took a step away, unwilling to take what she knew was the last step.
"Is -- are they going to be all right?" she asked. "George and -- Mitchell?"
"George is coming as soon as he's ready," the girl replied.
"And Mitchell?"
"He has more time to work it out, but he's as welcome here as you are, Annie." The girl smiled again, and Annie felt the last vestiges of her anxiety slip away. This had been the one thing that nagged at her sometimes, that Mitchell was somehow...barred, because of what he was. She didn't doubt that he'd find his way, in time.
So she nodded, feeling the tears -- or the memory of tears -- gathering in her eyes. "I'm ready," she said.
The girl's smile widened, and she pulled Annie close to her, folding her arms around the one-time ghost's chest. There was the sound of wings...
And Annie was finished.