Fic: The Hourglass
This story was in the making since November, it actually started as a way to write anything at all, but somewhere around typing next thousand words for NaNo to just make it, it started to have a life of it's own. So here it is, it's something completely new for me writing Discworld, but why not?
Death is my absolute favorite character and I hope it did right by him... and please bee so kind and feed the author!
Title: The Hourglass
Crossover: White Collar, Discworld
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Death
Spoilers: Slight for 4x10
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mentions of death and Death, Slightly AU
Word count: 4900
Beta: by amazing Miran Anders of ff.net. All remaining errors are mine ;)
Summary: Neal meeting Death is not so unusual for him, but not for Peter.
He almost didn't feel the bullet hitting his chest. Almost, 'cause there was a not really painful push, like someone had poked him with a finger. A moment later he was falling from the hood of the car and onto his ass. That hurt even more. What he didn't expect was sudden graying out of the world, and for time to stop.
The black clothed and hooded person with a scythe in hand was unfortunately a familiar view.
The Reaper.
Neal raised his head a little bit higher, looking at his opponent with slight worry in his eyes.
"Is it my time? I thought..." He started, but was quickly silenced when the scythe moved and the hood fell back from the head. Death smiled - well if you could tell a smile from a bare of any muscles or skin skull. Maybe it was the tilt of his head, or the sudden more cheerful mood in the air.
NO. NOT YET.
Neal's eyebrow raised in silent question. "So you just stopped by to talk?"
YES. I WAS, AS YOU SAY, IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD...
The scythe moved indicating towards the falling body of one of the shooters. A bullet wound directly between his eyes. Peter had quite good aim when he wanted. The body was suspended in time, not even halfway in falling down to meet the floor.
Neal, turned his head to look at Peter, he was stopped mid step, running towards him, obviously trying to get to Neal and check if he was alive.
Well, it was difficult to explain at the moment. His gaze turned back to Death, who had moved and was half sitting on the hood of the car Neal was sitting by.
"Shouldn't you wait till he falls completely, you know, give him a chance? Maybe it wasn't a lethal wound."
HE HAD TIME AND NOW IT HAS ENDED.
Death picked up his scythe, and moved to meet the unfortunate thug. There was a slight blue glow when the Reaper did his job, and thug left his body, still clutching in his hand a ghostly gun, trying to wave it and scare Death down.
"What the fuck!" Before anyone could react, least of all the dead person himself, he disappeared.
Neal sighed. He might have met Death several times in his life - and a few of those times, saw him doing his job - but it never ceased to stop the shivers going over his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was well aware that one day The Reaper would come to do his job on him, not only to chat. No matter where his lifetimer would be in that moment. Neal made a mental note to check with Mozz where he hid the precious hourglass, a very special hourglass.
In a blink of an eye, one you don't even have to do in the timeless world where Death resides, the skeletal body was back at Neal's side.
ARE YOU TRYING TO DIE?
You could say many things about Death, but you would never, ever guess that he was very fond of life, and humans. Apparently fond enough to stop by each time Neal did something stupid to talk to him about it, and to find out more about human habits and their view on the world. Not to mention that Neal was a conman, and therefore an unending source of knowledge to possibly, maybe, one day understand the confusing concept of a detective story. Confusing for Death of course.
"I don't try to die. You know I don't really want to life forever."
BUT YOU STOLE YOUR LIFETIMER. THINKING THAT.
"I didn't steal my lifetimer, just relocated it to a safer place." Neal shrugged.
IT'S NOT REALLY SAFER ANYWHERE BUT IN MY DOMAIN.
Neal's head snapped up. He had been examining his tie, his favorite tie, that now had a bullet hole in it.
There was something more than surprise in his voice when he asked. "You know where it is?!"
WHY WOULDN'T I KNOW WHERE IT IS?
"Because it's mine, not yours." He snapped in response, suddenly more than afraid that this indeed was his last moment, no matter what Death had said before.
YOU DON'T NEED TO BE AFRAID, NEAL CAFFREY. YOUR TIME HAS NOT COME YET.
"So why are you here, again?" Neal found Death fascinating, as much as Death found him.
TO ASK YOU FOR A GAME OF CARDS. THE ONE YOU CALL POKER. I WANT A CHANCE TO WIN YOUR LIFETIMER BACK.
He sighed. "If you know where it is, why just not take it?"
I'M NOT A THIEF, YOU ARE.
Ah, and wasn't that the truth. "Allegedly" Neal called half-heartedly, just to keep in practice.
Death just tilted his head without comment. He was very well informed when it came to Neal's work, and not only his current job. He was familiar with all his previous endeavors as well. There might be some holes in his knowledge, but nothing very important. All in all, he had known Neal almost his entire life, and certainly all his time on this strange world known as Earth, that was so different from the first domain of his reign - the Discworld.
Years ago he agreed to do a favor for the local death, and yes Death was curious enough to agree. It gave him the opportunity to study more people, different from the ones he already knew. And in the end he wasn't really so disappointed that this world's Reaper never came back. Maybe the Auditors did one thing right, at least.
AHEM.
Death tried to cut the uncomfortable silence that followed his last comment. Neal kept playing with his tie, fingering the hole, head bowed down to hide his face. Death's way of grabbing his attention made the corner of his mouth raise a little in a smile.
I SHOULD APOLOGIZE. YOU DID ASK ME TO NOT BOTHER YOU AT WORK.
This time Neal smiled fully, not the slick con-man smile, but a slightly subdued version, his true normal, happy smile. With a glint in his eye he was ready for some word sparring. "Oh you never bother me. And I'm glad for those few times when you did, as it actually saved my life."
Somewhere in the garage a horse snorted, the sound moving quickly in the unnatural silence.
"Is that Binky? I thought you were still driving that monster of a car the last death left behind?" The Earth Reaper used a custom made black Hummer as a means of transportation, and Death looked absolutely hilarious trying to learn how to drive it.
INDEED. I FOUND THE MONSTER UNABLE TO DRIVE BY ITSELF. IT DOES NOT PASS EVERYWHERE I NEED.
Death moved from foot to foot, bare bones hitting the concrete he was standing on with a dull noise. He looked like something was bothering him.
"But, that's not all, is it?" Neal prompted.
Binky snorted again, somewhere much nearer than before.
SOMEONE COVERED IT IN PAPER. FIRST IT WAS JUST ONE SMALL PIECE, THEN ANOTHER AND ANOTHER. ONE DAY IT WAS GONE.
Death's voice was a mix of desperation, wonder and relief, all in one. Not so easy to achieve, even when you were not a mere human.
"They're called parking tickets. If you collect too many of them at once, they have right to take your car away, especially if you don't move it at all."
AH. I FORGOT HOW. He admitted with reluctance.
Neal laughed, hard and loud. It wasn't so hilarious, but the situation itself was definitely laughable, Neal couldn't stop, and he laughed and laughed. When he finally did stop, there were tears in the corners of his eyes, and the world slowly started to move again. He saw Binky standing impatiently under the sign for exit, and knew that this meeting with Death would come to end in few non-time seconds.
"I could show you, you know, if you just asked. Just choose a better moment next time..."
IT DOESN'T MATTER. I TRUST WE SHALL MEET AGAIN. IN BETTER CIRCUMSTANCES.
He bid Neal a farewell, and started walking towards waiting horse.
Neal called behind him, remembering why they met in the first place. "How about you drop by for a poker game tonight, my place? We can talk more about you winning my lifetimer back..."
WE SHALL SEE. Death jumped on Binky, and from deep inside of his robe fished another hourglass with sand almost finishing falling through.
I WILL SEE YOU, NEAL CAFFREY. TRY TO NOT DIE IN MY ABSENCE.
And then he disappeared, restarting time again and causing Neal to muffle a laugh.
"Neal!" Peter was by his side in few seconds. He heard the muffled noise coming from Neal and took it as sign of pain. "Don't move! Are you okay?"
Corners of Neal's mouth raised slightly, not too much but enough to show to Peter he was all right. Peter put his gun away, and started to feel Neal's chest, looking for the bullet he saw hit his partner.
"You put the vest on!" The worried energy dropped, and Peter sat beside him on the floor. Diana and the other FBI agents stormed around, securing the place.
"Don't you scare me like that, you could get killed." He scolded Neal a little, but his voice was laced with worry and relief that he was all right.
"It's not so easy to kill me." Neal flashed him his best smile. "Did I ever tell about the first time I met Death?"
"No, but don't tell me in case it happened during one of your alleged stunts." Peter grinned. Neal did have a strange sense of humor when it came to death.
It wasn't obvious, but every time Neal talked about someone trying to kill him, or death itself, he gave a very strange impression, like he reall knew eath. Personally knew, as if in all the near death experiences, and running for his life from more violent thugs, he actually met the Grim Reaper.
"Oh it wasn't any of my alleged works, not by a long shot. It was actually my very first con, probably the best one." Neal allowed Peter to help him stand, and ignored the bemused look of his partner.
"He destroyed my favorite tie." He pouted.
Peter chuckled and pushed him forward medics to get checked. Even with a bulletproof vest on, it was better to check if everything was all right before allowing Neal to go anywhere.
"Oh, and you really just want to tell me about it now?"
Neal smirked "Well, I can tell you all about it today during a friendly poker game. Meet me at June's tonight, there's someone I would like you to meet."
Peter's suspicion grew. "Another one of your con friends? Isn't Mozzie enough bad influence on you?"
"Nope, someone I've known for a whole lot longer than Mozzie, and you'll like him. He's quite fascinated with you." He smiled a little smile, one that told you he wasn't really saying whole truth. The conversation just dropped after that, Neal was busy with medics, or rather they with him, and Peter had to abide with protocol and surrender his gun, before going with Diana to make a statement. He parted ways with Neal, promising to let him know if he could join the game.
WCWCWCWC
It was quite late in the evening when Peter showed up at June's.
"Peter! I was thinking you must have gone home, come one in." Neal gestured him in, giving him a view of the table where Mozzie was just taking a sip of wine.
"Mozzie." Peter greeted him, and while getting his coat off he eyed closely all corners of the apartment, looking for the mysterious friend.
"He's not here yet." Neal was always quick at reading Peter.
"Who isn't here yet? Neal?"
"So what does this friend of yours do?"
Mozzie and Peter spoke at the same time.
"It' Bill." Neal told Moz, focusing his attention back on Peter "And he's in the death business."
Mozzie choked on his wine. "You've..." cough "got to..." coug "be kidding" cough quot;me!" Mozzie was sputtering words trying to get his point across while still gasping for breath.
Peter stood with his mouth agape, random emotions playing on his face, Astonishment, curiosity, surprise, then it suddenly changed into suspicion and finally into controlled anger. "Are you out of your mind?!"
When Mozzie finally caught his breath, he followed suit. "Yeah, are you, Neal?"
"No. I don't really understand you both. Moz, you kno Bill." He put emphasis on the name, trying to get Moz to work with him. "Peter.." but before Peter could say anything, Mozzie set his glass aside and bid them farewell, as usual with a quote. "I'm not afraid o Death; I just don't want to be there whe it appens." The door closed with a soft click leaving two stunned men behind.
Neal recovered first and smirked, he did know why Mozzie put emphasis on those two words especially.
Peter sighed, ran his hand over his hair and sighed again.
"Peter, he probably won't show up anyway. Why don't you go home, and we forget about this..."
"No. no, there is n let's forget about this " he raised his finger to shush Neal. "I'm going to use the bathroom, and when I'm back we are going to talk about it."
Without waiting for Neal's answer he left, massaging his temple. There was a monster headache coming, he could feel it.
When he came back, Neal was making himself busy getting a wine glass, so Peter just stopped by the fridge to check if Neal had his favorite beer in stock. Before he could open it, there was a knock on the door, and somewhere a horse snorted. Peter stopped, his hand halfway thru pulling the door, his brows furrowed Did he just hear a horse?
The door opened and Peter's attention was again redirected, this time to the entrance of a skinny man in a dark suit and fedora, very similar to Neal's Maybe he was a conman like Neal, just well, different?
GOOD EVENING GENTLEMEN.
The small man, Bill most probably, had a very strange voice, filling up the space, somehow hollow... Peter frowned, he heard that voice somewhere.
Neal grunted.
SORRY?
The newcomer didn't seem to take the hint. Taking off his fedora he gave it to Neal with a slight move gesturing towards himself, and received an approving nod from Neal. Peter's expression changed to one of puzzlement. The man didn't look like he would need an approval from Neal or from anyone else.
Remembering his manners Peter took a step forward, extending his hand towards the newcomer and introducing himself. "Hello, I'm Peter Burke, a friend of Neal's..."
BILL, BILL DOOR. A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU AGAIN AGENT BURKE.
He took Peter's hand and squeezed it. Peter face fell. Bill's grip was quite hard. And his hand looked so fragile, bones almost visible thru paper- thin skin. Then the other world registered Again?
"I'm sorry, have we meet before?"
YES. BUT IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN VERY… He made a slight pause, titling his head slightly to the left. HMMM…ONE- SIDED.
Peter's brows rose in confusion, how can you meet someone one- sided? A sudden through occurred to him- he might have been unconscious at the time.
"Oh..." He swallowed, a sudden uncomfortable thought, that he was at the mercy of the man he didn't knew, who most probably could kill him in that moment, at his most venerable, but still didn't do anything. He would need to be very careful with asking questions to get some knowledge abou Bill like how did he know he was an Agent?
Bill was secretly pleased. There it was, an occasion to gather more knowledge about people. He, after all, now had a completely new person to question about the still confusing mystery of detective stories.
For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, when suddenly everyone moved. Neal back towards his abandoned wine glass, Bill stepping further into the apartment, and Peter turning towards the fridge, taking out his favorite beer.
AGENT BURKE…
Bill started and stopped when Peter turned abruptly. That was his opening, he introduced himself just as Peter Burke, but Bill knew he was an agent.
"How do you know I'm an Agent, Bill?" Opening the beer he considered his next question.
WE MET BEFORE.
It was a simple and absolutely not satisfying answer.
Peter took a swig from his bottle. "But when? I don't remember, and actually, what is it that you do?"
Neal sighed a heavy, slightly worried sigh.
And Bill, well, Bill suddenly changed from a small skinny man into an almost seven foot high, clothed in black robe skeleton, with a scythe in hand and small blue fires in the sockets of his skull.
Peter lost the hold on his beer, and the bottle landed with a thud on the floor, thankfully not shattering but spilling its contents all over, including Peter's shoes and... Death's skeletal feet. The bone toes moved, almost like a displeased person would move their toes if they got wet.
IT'S COLD, AND WET.
Peter took a step back, trying to not lose his balance, on suddenly weak knees and a very unhelpful wet floor.
He almost found his footing again, hand gripping tightly on the counter to keep himself up. The blue lights in the skull were dancing hypnotically and getting closer and closer to his face.
And then he felt like falling.
Everything grayed out, he found himself in a narrow backstreet, somewhere between dusk and dawn, with light slowly peeking up through the darkness. It was cold, and damp, and then he heard it: a gun shot. He felt the bullet ripping his flesh, he fell into a puddle of water, shock keeping his eyes open even when he felt life slipping away. That was when he saw him, the scythe and black robes, the skeleton with blue light in eyes sockets.
"No!" A terrified scream escaped his lips.
"Peter! Peter! Calm down, he won't do anything. Peter!" Neal's voice cut through. Suddenly Peter was back in his friend's apartment, the flashback from the past ending as quickly as it started. He found himself sitting on the floor, the beer still in a puddle by his feet, and Death. Death sitting at the table like nothing happened.
"Peter? Are you okay?" A very worried Neal was kneeling beside him, hand extended, trying to calm him without touching.
He shook his head trying to clear the image embedded in his mind. The scythe moving and glowing blue, but it wasn't moving towards him, but towards the man that shot him. He felt the ghost of the pain again, his left hand clasping his right arm, trying to reassure himself.
He blinked and accepted Neal's hand, helping him stand up. "Peter? What happened?"
But Peter ignored him, taking those few unsteady steps towards the table. He sat heavily beside Death looking at him closely.
"So you are Death. The Grim Reaper." He asked, voice wavering slightly.
YES. I AM.
In silence that followed he heard Neal move around, then setting two glasses on the table and pouring something in them. From the smell that hit him, it was scotch. Good scotch. With his gaze still firmly locked on Death he took a big gulp, masking a grimace of pain. His arm remembers the shot.
"Peter! Look at me." Neal begs, he can hear worry in his voice. So he looks at the young man, causing him to gasp. "What did you remember?" There is an underlying tone of understanding, as he has been there before.
"I died." he whispers.
NO, YOU DIDN'T.
That seems to wake Peter out of his strange state of mind. "But... they told me I flat lined in the ambulance. I was dead!"
YOUR WORLD LIKES TO MIX THINGS UP.
"I don't understand." Peter admits, taking another big gulp from his glass. Alcohol burns his throat, but starts to ease the edge he was on from the moment the Reaper stepped thru the door.
A horse snorts near by, and suddenly Peter can see it. Just outside on the terrace, a white horse. He blinks and sets the glass aside.
"It's Binky." Neal speaks, a slight smile tugging on his mouth. "His horse." He indicates Death with his head.
Well at least Peter has confirmation, uncertain but still possible that he is not crazy.
"I still don't understand. I did die, and yet I didn't. How is that possible?" Now he looks between Neal and Death, as it seems his friend is understanding this situation much better than he does.
Neal tilts his head silently asking Death to explain. But the answer he receives is not one he hoped to get.
I HELPED YOU AS NEAL TAUGHT ME.
"I did?" Neal asks with furrowed brow.
"He did?" Peter follows.
HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN UNAWARE OF THE LESSON.
Neal looks at Death with wonder, brow still furrowed, as he tries to remember what lesson could that be. Then his face changes and he smiles.
"I was under the impression you don't decide who lives and who dies?" He uses the tone, the one he uses every time Peter agrees that his plan was the best for the operation.
"What les..." Peter starts but is interrupted by a loud snort from the horse, and the strike of a hooves on the terrace.
HMM, Death murmurs and fishes a hourglass out of his robes. The sand in the top bulb is almost gone. I DON'T DECIDE. I FOLLOW. I LEARN.
Neal nods, like it's exactly the answer he was expecting. "The first time." he says with another nod.
YES. TIME FOR ME TO GO. TILL WE MEET AGAIN. Standing up he shoves the hourglass back into his robe, and grabs the scythe.
Peter stays at the table observing them with a confused gaze.
NEAL WILL EXPLAIN. TILL NEXT TIME, AGENT BURKE. He nodded his farewell.
Peter is not really sure if meeting with Death is really something he would like to repeat, but afraid to affront him, he nods. "Till next time." he risks adding a slight sarcasm to his voice when he continues "Death." Suddenly he feels the atmosphere seem to lessen and in a blink of an eye the skeleton and his horse are gone.
When Neal returns to the table they sit in silence for few minutes, each man deep in through, working to empty their glasses.
"So..." Peter starts, his mind now clearer than before, or maybe just less stressed. "Care to explain this..." he waves his hand in broad description of the whole situation.
Neal snorts. "No, not really." He looks at Peter sheepishly. "Where should I start?" he toys with his glass before pouring more alcohol for himself and Peter.
"Somewhere that begins an explanation about m no dying according to Death himself?" Peter mouth quirks when he says death, it will take a while to get used to.
Neal just smiles, a con smile. "I think it starts with me cheating Death."
"You can't cheat Death." Peter spares back.
"And yet you and I are still alive? Do you want to bet?"
Shaking his head, the agent just sighs, letting the con man continue the explanation.
"It was my first con, and at the time I didn't even knew about it." There is a hint of sadness in his eyes.
Peter has a sudden suspicion "Who died?"
"Neal Bennett did." the answer surprises him.
"But..."
"Yeah, I think Death was confused too. I still remember it clearly..." Neal's mind goes to the first memory of Death he has, he shouldn't remember it, yet still he does. "I was three and few months, and we were in a hotel room somewhere around Pittsburgh. I didn't know it at the time, but it was how we were put into Witness Protection. And that day in the motel room my life as Neal Bennett ended." He pauses to take a drink.
Peter knows this part of the story. "And you became Danny Brooks."
Neal nods. "And I became Danny. I didn't want to be Danny. But one evening I woke up to Death standing by my bed, with scythe glowing in the dark."
"That must have been terrifying for a small kid."
"It wasn't, I was curious. I didn't understand what is going on, but for the past two weeks mom was trying to teach me that if someone asks for my name, then to answer I'm Danny. He had my lifetimer in his hand, a tiny hourglass in a frame made out of paper, it was smeared with colorful crayons and hand paints..."
"Lifetimer?" Peter interrupts curiously.
Allowing himself to be side tracked for a moment, he explains quickly. "It shows how much time you have to live. You saw the one he took out to check, it's how he knows who to take." Peter nods his understanding, the situation starts to get clearer now.
"Then he asks, in this voice of his, hollow and strange. ARE YOU NEAL BENNETT? And I know in that moment that this is what my mother tried to teach me. So I shake my head and with trembling lips answer I'm Danny."
"Your first con!" Peter smiles fondly, Neal must have been quite a child.
"Yes, and you can't really say that you can see emotions on his face, but I swear he tilted his head, and it felt like he was confused. He kept looking at the life timer and at me and back again, till the last grain of sand fell through... and the hourglass changed." His voice trailed off with sadness.
When he started speaking again the sadness was still lingering. "It changed into a plastic one, really cheap looking, with one broken bracket that titled the glass slightly out of the frame, but still kept together. And it was full of sand again, just the first few grains on the bottom, and a new name on the piece of paper stuck to it with tape... it looked like it would fall apart in a moment..."
Peter finished the through for his friend. "Like any WitSec life. Always on the run."
"Yes, but I didn't know it at the moment. Neither did he. It was that moment when the agents erased our former life and my mom put final signatures on the new one. The best con of them all, bureaucratic death." The last part is spoken with sarcasm, Neal toasts slightly to Peter before taking a big gulp of his glass.
Peter looks at him drinking his own drink, somehow the story does make sense and strangely it does explain how he died, or rather did not. He takes another sip before taking lead on the story telling.
"I was undercover when I was shot, under an alias. I suppose he learned about bureaucratic death and what, used it as a back door?" His brows furrowed... "I killed the suspect that day, it was why he showed up, isn't it? And then as I was dying too, he used your way? But it was new life for you, and I was going back to my real one..."
"I'm not really sure, but it seems every time we create an alias, and I mean a proper alias." This time Neal's smile is a little bit cheeky, his aliases always were the best ones. "It also creates a lifetimer for it, and when the time is up, well... then he shows up to get the person behind the name."
"Shouldn't the person die too, then? What's with the whole rose by any other name still smells like a rose?" You have to trust Peter to follow the rules.
"Ah I think that after my case it doesn't work like that anymore." This time Neal's smile is full of pride.
Peter groans Only Neal... "You cheated Death, and taught it to cheat... what's above Death anyway?"
"I think he calls them the Auditors." Neal supplies helpfully, a cheeky smile still on his face.
"... so you taught him to cheat Auditors. At the age of three... unbelievable." He shakes his head. "Only you Neal, only you."
THE END… Blue fires flared just for a moment as they looked back through the window.
"Did you hear that?" The hollow sound wakes Peter up. He fell asleep at the table after fourth glass of scotch.
"Hmmm?" Neal is only half-awake on the other side of the table, his glass still half full.
The through that followed the strange waking up, is suddenly quite clear in Peter's mind. "He said he will come back, what did he had in mind?"
"Who?" Neal murmurs, raising his head little from between his arms, blinking owlishly at Peter.
"Death." The older man is wide awake now.
"He likes to socialize with people." Neal's head is back on his arms, ready to fell asleep again.
"Death like to socialize?" He demands an answer.
"Hmm?" Answer that Neal is not so ready to give.
"Neal!" The first rays of sun start to sweep into the apartment.
"Yeah, we still have to play poker with him." Neal's is halfway back asleep.
"On what stakes?"
The con man's arms shrug. "My life..." he murmurs falling fully asleep again. Leaving a wide awake Peter to stare at him in horror.
The End