I didn't see Law for a few months. I wouldn't say I was nervous, but I was certainly confused. I knew he was waiting for me to come back. I can't explain how I knew, I just knew. I could feel it, our separation. It felt like I was forgetting something important, like I'd lost my wallet.

"Oh, it's you," Law murmured, tucking his pen back in the pocket of his scrubs. He placed the clipboard back on the hook beside the bed. "You're not here for Mrs. Murphy, are ya? I'll have you know she's getting her first granddaughter next week."

Death looked at the woman sleeping in the bed. "Nah. I'm not here for her."

"You should take the cunt down the hall," Law joked, fiddling with his stethoscope. "He won't stop pulling out his IV and yelling at the nurses."

"You look tired." Death commented, following behind Law as he made his rounds.

"I don't wanna hear that from you," Law breathed out. He looked at the file outside of the next door and held his hand out in a halting gesture, "Wait here. You'll be meeting him soon enough."

Death watched Law attend to patient after patient. He was a solemn looking young man, but he was a warm doctor. He listened and took his time.

You could say I was proud.

"Ah, I'm finally done!" Law cheered to himself, his arms above his head in a stretch. His scrubs and undershirt lifted, exposing a bit of tan stomach. He yawned and rubbed his dark-ringed eyes. "Aw shit. I look terrible."

"That's what I was saying, but you got mad at me." Death complained.

"Well, I didn't know I looked that bad." Law argued, rubbing his hands through his dark hair.

"You look like a raccoon." Death added.

Law's eyes rolled hard, he made a face at Death, his arms folded over his chest. "So, how have you been, Corazon?" Death groaned loudly but Law only smiled, "Been busy?"

"Just the usual." Death replied. "Honestly, once you're a bona fide doctor, I expect to take a holiday."

"A holiday?" Law made a face. "And where does Death go on holiday?"

"I was thinking Mongolia." Death said.

"Mongolia? Really? What the fuck's in Mongolia?" Law asked, shaking his head.

"Don't know." Death admitted. "I've never been."

"Lots of cows I suppose." Law said, thinking. He remembered himself and turned back to Death, "I'm not about to die am I?"

Death shrugged, "You're not in the book today."

"That's good." Law decided.

"Trafalgar," a pretty young nurse called out. She walked over to him, somehow looking cute in scrubs and those ugly, white shoes. "How was rotation? Any problems?"

"No, ma'am," Law replied politely.

"That's great." She smiled. "How are you enjoying residency so far?"

Law sighed, his head dropping forward pointedly. He laughed and she laughed and he sighed again, "Oh, it's so exhausting."

"Innit?" she agreed with a knowing nod. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"The day after." Law corrected.

"Okay, well," she chattered. "See ya then. Good night."

"Good night." Law called out, giving a wave.

"She's cute."

Law made a face.

"What? She is."

"She's also living," Law retorted.

"So are you!" Death exclaimed, following after Law like his shadow.

Law paused, his grey eyes scanning Death critically, "I was supposed to die a long time ago. There's no one here on Earth meant for me."

Death was speechless. What could he say to that?

What could I say to that? It was the truth. It brings me back to that marvelous course I took, 'The Butterfly Effect' followed by the charming sequel 'Death Fucks Up'. I wrote that one. It's kinda an autobiography.

"I'm not wrong." Law breathed out.

He wasn't.

"That doesn't mean you can't have fun…" Death suggested slowly.

Law frowned, "Every time something good happens to me I feel so guilty. I think about the undergrad that didn't get into med school, because I did. I think about the med student who didn't make residency, because I did. I can't imagine fucking someone else's wife, for fun…"

"You're overthinking things." Death suggested, leaning against the wall as Law prepared to leave.

"I've carved a space out for myself here," Law continued, pulling his belongings from his locker. He slammed the door shut, spinning the combination. "But I'm not one of them."

It wasn't long until Law became Doctor Trafalgar. He even earned a cute little nickname. They called him the 'Surgeon of Death'. It's got quite a ring to it, doesn't it? No, they don't call him that because he's a bad doctor, they call him that because… Well, what do you mean it's my fault?

Law yawned, covering his mouth halfheartedly. He walked from his bedroom into the kitchen, dressed only in boxers. He kicked open his fridge and drank some orange juice straight from the carton.

"You're an animal." Death groaned, reading the newspaper.

Law gargled loudly before swallowing, "I live alone."

Death nodded. "Oh, damn it!" Death groaned, watching as the ink disappeared from the paper. "I was reading that."

"Stop ruining all my stuff," Law requested, dropping to a squat in front of his open fridge. He picked at his leftovers with his fingers. "You're here early. Why?" Law looked at his leftovers suspiciously before turning to look at Death.

"No reason," Death replied, the newspaper crumbling into dust. He blew it across the table, sending it into the air. "I finished early. Not a lot going on today."

"Are you going to sweep that up?" Law questioned, his eyes narrowed.

"Nope." Law sighed, rolling to his feet. He shut the fridge and sat down at the table across from Death. "Something wrong?"

"How many people are like me?" Law asked, staring out the window.

"What do you mean?" Death wondered.

"Like this," Law pressed, gesturing from Death to himself. "How many people do you follow home? How many people have to replace all their furniture every month? How many people do you sit there and talk with, like it's nothing?"

Death frowned, "Just one."

"Just me." Law stated, as if to verify.

"Just you." Death agreed.

"Where would I be now," Law whispered. "If I left with you that day?"

Death was silent for a moment before responding, "I don't know. You'd probably be someone else right now."

"What about now?" Law pressed. "If I were to die now what would happen to me?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"I want you to write my name down," Law said finally.

"What?"

"I want you to write my name down," Law repeated.

"That's…" Death shook his head. "That's crazy."

"Is it?"

"Why do you want to die?" Death demanded.

"I've gotta do it sometime." Law reasoned.

"But not today," Death debated.

"The world will keep turning without me."

"I'm not killing you," Death snapped.

"It's not like I even have anyone to miss me. I don't have a lover, I don't have friends…"

"I'm not killing you," Death repeated.

"I don't have a dog or cat or a houseplant…"

"I'm not killing you."

"I was never meant to be a doctor, Corazon. Everyone I save will just fuck things up further…"

"I'm not going to kill you!" Death shouted, standing up and sending his chair clattering to the ground. "I won't do it! Stop asking me!"

"Why not? You've spent years trying to kill me!" Law shouted back.

"That was then, this is now!"

"What will happen then?" Law murmured.

"What do you mean?" Death asked, trying to calm himself.

"I'm going to be old and grey when you come for me again?" Law whispered. "And it'll just be you and me. Nah, that's not right. It'll be just me. Just me alone forever?"

"You're being dramatic."

"At least I'm not a coward."

"A coward? I'm not a coward." Death hissed. "You have no idea what I've gone through! Half of it was to keep you safe, ya know!"

"I'm going to die like you did." Law spoke quietly. "Only work will be inconvenienced."

"Law," Death murmured, but Law had already disappeared into his bedroom. Death hovered outside the bedroom door.

When he finally got the nerve to knock, Law barked loudly, "Fuck off."

"You need to think things over." Death suggested, his hand brushing against the frame of Law's door. "You'll feel better by tomorrow I bet."

"Go away." Law groaned and something heavy hit the closed door.

So I went away.

"Ya know," Law mused. "I don't think you've ever touched me."

"Of course not." Death replied, using a pen to change the channel on the remote.

"Why not?"

"You know why." Death groaned. "You're a smart boy."

Law smiled wryly, "So, if I were to reach out, right now, and take your hand in mine…"

"You'd die." Death finished. "And then I'd revive you, just to kill you again for being so stupid."

"So a kiss is out of the question?" Law breathed.

Death was silent for a long stretch of time, "Why'd you wanna kiss me anyway?"

"You know why," Law replied dryly. "You're a smart boy."

"Corazon." I heard him call my name in the middle of the day. I was busy reaping. At first I thought the old man I was with had said it, but honestly, deep down, I knew. It was Law. I could hear him somehow, thousands of miles apart.

I finished what I was doing quickly, ushering the withered old man to the underworld impatiently. And then I rushed to Law.

"Law?" Death called out, looking around the apartment unsurely.

"Corazon?" Law leaned off his bed, peering down the hall and straight at Death. "Are you here?"

"Did you call me?" Death asked, walking to the door of the bedroom. He leaned against the jamb, pulling his hood down.

Law's grey eyes were wide, he shook his head in confusion, dropping the pint of ice cream to rest between his thighs. He sat on his bed, a spoon held in his hand, wearing nothing but flannel pajama. "Uh…"

"I thought… I thought I heard someone say my name," Corazon explained, hesitating in the doorway.

"When?" Law asked, grabbing the remote and pausing the daytime drama he was watching.

"I don't know, maybe three hours ago…" Death replied. "Well, I guess about ten minutes your time."

"Oh, yeah, right," Law nodded his head in recollection. "I stubbed my toe earlier and I thought you were out to get me."

Death laughed, knocking his fist gently against the frame of the door, "Thought I'd changed my mind, had you?"

"I wondered why you picked such an awful way to go," Law murmured. "I cursed your name. I said some really terrible things to be honest."

"Well," Death cleared his throat. "I'd better get back to work."

"Hey," Law called out, jumping off the bed, placing the half-eaten carton of ice cream on his TV stand. "I've been meaning to tell you, I won't be in town for a bit…"

"Oh?" Death paused, curious.

"Yeah, I've got a conference in London," Law explained. "So, I don't know how it works and all… I don't know if you can see me there or not."

"Right, well," Death replied. "It's not my jurisdiction."

"So," Law murmured. "I guess I'll see you when I get back."

"You sound like you look forward to seeing me," Death chuckled in amusement.

Law wasn't smiling, "I always look forward to seeing you."

Death lifted his hood back up, obscuring his face in nightmarish darkness. "Bye."

You never expect things to end. Logically, you understand that everything comes to an end. But emotionally, we just can't exist like that. At least, I can't.

"Good morning," Mongolia said, waving cheerfully.

Death nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "Mornin'."

"Did you hear this one," Mongolia began. "What's the difference between death and sex?"

"I don't know." Death admitted.

"Ooh, what is it?" England asked, popping in on the conversation.

"Death you can do alone and nobody laughs at you." Mongolia finished.

"I don't get it," Brazil groaned, rolling his eyes.

"What? It was a good joke…" Mongolia insisted, nudging Brazil in the side gently.

"Maybe it was funnier in Mongolian." England suggested.

"I liked it." Death assured him with a smile.

"You know who tells good jokes?" England said. "Canada!"

Mongolia pouted silently.

"Damn, there isn't enough coffee in the world." Brazil complained, eyeing the queue ahead of them. "Do you mind if I go first?" Brazil pleaded, smiling from ear to ear. "I'm working with a population of over 200 million…"

"Sure." Death conceded, waving his hand dismissively.

"Oh, I guess," England breathed out, insulted. "I didn't realize it worked that way, but sure…"

Brazil only smiled at England, raising his cup of coffee as if to toast. "Obrigado."

"I'm in no rush." Mongolia said, as if anyone was waiting for his permission.

Brazil was finally next. He scanned his index and hurled expletives, his words flying out in rapid, unintelligible combinations. He shook his head and slammed his book closed. "I've said it a zillion times! I need a damn assistant!"

"See you tomorrow." England called out, waving as Brazil stormed off. Once Brazil was out of earshot, England turned to Death and whispered, "He'd have assistance if he'd stopped running them off! He's impossible to work for, ya know. Everyone talks about it."

"He's just particular." Mongolia replied diplomatically.

"NEXT!" The registrar called out.

"I'll be going then," England announced, stepping forward.

"Go right ahead." Mongolia said.

"Oooh, nasty." England clicked his tongue. "I've got a tourist getting creamed by a train. How ghastly."

"Damn," Death breathed out. "Sounds terrible."

"NEXT!" The registrar shouted.

"See you tomorrow, mate." England said before walking off.

"Sign here." The registrar barked, handing Death his new book. Death signed an 'X' quickly, tucking his book away in his cloak without looking. He didn't need to; after all, Law wasn't in Ireland…

Death's head snapped up. He scanned the room, panic flooding his veins with ice. "Hey!" Death shouted, scrambling past the queue. "Hey, England!" Death started to run over to England, he hadn't heard him yet. "England! Wait!"

Somalia slapped her hand across Death's back, "What's wrong?"

"I need England!" Death shouted, still running across the crowded platform. "England! Wait a sec! England!"

"What on Earth?" England muttered, turning around as Death approached. "What are you on about?"

"Show me your book," Death panted, holding his side. "I need to see your book."

"Why?" England asked, his brows furrowed.

"That tourist," Death wheezed. "What's his name?"

England pulled his book from his cloak, holding it against his stomach. He paged through the book, his eyes shifting from the pages to Death and back again. "Uh, let's see, right here we are…" England stopped talking.

"What?" Death demanded.

"It's nothing." England said finally, shutting the book.

"Give me the book," Death growled.

"What? No." England clicked his tongue in annoyance. They had already drawn a sizable crowd. "I'm busy, I need to get going. As do you."

"Give me the fucking book." Death snarled. "I need that book. It will only take a second."

"It's none of your concern." England snapped.

"Jesus Christ! Please, just tell me…" Death pleaded.

"Aye," England breathed out. "Since we're mates 'n all, but ya need to calm down."

"I am calm…" Death rasped. "I'm fucking calm."

"It's your little Boy Wonder." England answered. "I recognize the name."

Crack.

"What station?" Death croaked.

"Waterloo Station." England replied.

"When?" Death demanded.

England's face darkened, "I don't need your help. I can do my job, thank you…"

"Damn it." Death cried out, dropping into a squat. He held his head in his hands and did something unforgivable. He removed his hood, his breath rattling from his chest.

"What are you…?" England trailed off in shock.

The crowd hissed in suspicion, the great murmur growing louder and louder. Death pushed off from the ground and back to his feet. He turned in a slow circle, he felt dizzy, there were so many eyes on him.

"What's going on?" One of the supervisors barked. The supervisor saw Death a moment later. He was hard to miss; tall, blonde, exposed. "Fix your hood, Death."

"I…" Death began slowly. "I need to go to England."

"Where are you assigned?" the supervisor snapped. "Let's see your papers…"

"He's assigned to Ireland, Sir." England explained. "I'm England."

"What's the problem, Ireland?" the supervisor sneered.

"I need to go to England," Death repeated.

A second supervisor arrived and he looked even more impatient than the first. "Ah, fuck. It's Ireland. What'd you fuck up this time?"

"He says he needs to go to England." The first supervisor explained.

"Alright, get to work, all of ya!" the second supervisor shouted. "If you've got time to stand around, you should expect your workload to increase!" He turned back to Death with a scowl. "What are you going on about?"

"I need to go to England." Death repeated again.

"Why?"

"I just do." Death barked.

"Ah, Sir, if I may," England interjected. "You very well know that Ireland has that little problem of his… Well, that same man made my list today."

"Ah, well," the first supervisor said. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you'll simply have to let England take care of this."

"I'm sorry, really I am…" England murmured before disappearing through a portal.

"Return to Ireland." The second supervisor commanded. "Reap the souls on your list and stay put. And as for removing your hood…"

"No."

"What?"

"No." Death refused, throwing his book onto the floor between him and the supervisors.

"What are you saying?" America gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Don't be crazy…"

"Ireland," Mongolia breathed out, tugging at Death's sleeve. "What's going on?"

"I have to go to England. I have to save him." Death explained.

The crowd of onlookers began to shout, but Death ignored them. He felt someone grab him and tugged himself free. Mongolia cried out, grasping hold of Death's cloak. They were swarmed. All around them, everyone was so angry.

"Call The Management." The second supervisor instructed the first.

The Management is the elite group of know-it-alls that are in charge of this whole thing. They decide what souls get to continue and what souls get destroyed. They were spoken about in hushed whispers and never very fondly. I didn't know what to expect beyond The Management was definitely not going to like this. I was fucked.

"The Management?" Mongolia squeaked. "Ireland, you've got to go…"

"Go?" Death repeated the word in confusion.

"Yes." Mongolia shouted. "You've gotta go! Now! Run!"

"But I have to get to England!" Death cried out.

"You'll figure something out," Mongolia replied, removing his own hood. Death laughed bitterly, seeing his friend for the first time. He was young, no more than thirteen or so. There was a long slash across his face and he was missing his left eye.

"What…?" Death breathed out in surprise.

"Farming accident," Mongolia answered, his hand briefly touching his scarred face. "Now good luck."

Mongolia pushed his hand into Death's chest, knocking him backward forcefully. Death had no idea what had happened until he hit the ground. He rolled and rolled, only stopping when he hit a large post.

"Are you okay? Oh my gosh! Are you hurt?"

Death shook his head and stood up slowly. He looked around in shock, realizing that a woman was standing there, speaking to him. "Y-you can see me?"

The woman's head tilted to the side, "Are you unwell, Sir?"

"Where am I?" Death asked, looking around the crowded space in confusion.

"The airport." The woman replied, gesturing around.

Death looked up and caught sight of his own reflection. His cloak was gone. He stood there, bright and visible as day. He licked his lips and shook his head, trying to clear it. "I need to get to England."

"Oh no…" Death cried out suddenly, patting himself down in a panic. "My book!"

So this is what happens when you leave your jurisdiction. There's nothing like being thousands of miles from home with nothing but the shirt on your back.

"This?" A man said, picking up his book and handing it to Death. "Is it yours?"

"Yes. Thank you." Death replied breathlessly.

I hope that guy's okay. I'm not sure what touching Death's book will do to a person's life expectancy.

"Help me. I need to get to England, fast."

The woman smiled apologetically, "You can buy a ticket."

"Pssst," a voice whispered. "Ireland." Death turned around, nearly crying when he saw Mongolia. "Walk with me."

"What the hell's going on?" Death asked, whispering to the invisible person beside him.

"It's bad." Mongolia said. "You've been recalled. There's going to be a disciplinary hearing and everything… And the human…"

"What about the human?" Death pressed.

Mongolia frowned, "They're going to destroy his soul."

"What? Why?" Death demanded.

"He's too much trouble." Mongolia explained. "He's cheated Death nearly twenty times."

"That's my fault." Death insisted.

"Yeah, they said that too…" Mongolia laughed nervously.

"Hey, where the fuck are we anyway?" Death asked, halting suddenly.

"Ulaanbaatar." Mongolia answered. "Sorry, I couldn't send you anywhere else."

"I'm in fucking Mongolia?!" Death groaned miserably. "That's too far away."

"Have you tried going back home?" Mongolia suggested.

It didn't work. I'd been recalled and could only go to the main office.

"Then you've no other option," Mongolia reasoned. "You have to get on a plane."

"A plane? How long will that take?" Death sighed.

"A little over nine hours." Mongolia answered, smiling guiltily.

"I don't have money or a passport," Death groaned. "I'm fucked."

"I'm willing to kill everyone here." Brazil interjected from nowhere. "Just give me the word."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Death demanded. He looked Brazil up and down in disbelief. Brazil's cloak was gone too. He was a tall, strong looking man with dark skin and dark hair. He was handsome and didn't quite fit the sleepy image Death had had in his mind.

"I'm here to help you," Brazil said simply, tapping his fingers against the book under his arm.

"I told him what was going on," Mongolia explained. "But I wasn't sure he'd come."

"Yeah," Brazil said behind a yawn. "I'm here."

"What about your work?" Death questioned.

"Yeah, well, I figured I could let some other people handle it for today. It's not like they can fuck up as much as you have…" Brazil answered, flashing a brilliant smile.

"Thanks." Death murmured, closing his eyes. "This still doesn't solve my problem. I can't get out of Mongolia."

"You can't get out of Mongolia," Brazil reasoned. "And because Mongolia's in trouble too, he can't leave Mongolia. But me… I can go wherever I want…"

"You can get me to England?" Death exhaled.

"We have to hurry," Mongolia warned. "If they know Brazil's here, they'll recall him too."

"Should I kill everyone here?" Brazil asked.

"That won't help anything!" Mongolia cried out. "The humans won't be the ones turning you in! Now go!"

"Yes. Let's go. Now. Right now!" Death growled. "Hurry."

"Don't lose your book," Brazil said quietly. "Or you'll really be in trouble."

"Could it get any worse?" Death groaned.

Brazil shrugged, "Your book is the only way to defend yourself."

"Thank you, Mongolia." Death said turning to the young Death. "I have no words to…"

"Sorry," Brazil cut in, slapping his palm against Death's chest and knocking him backward. "We've got no time for sappy shit."

Death stumbled blindly and he would've fallen again if not for Brazil's hand wrapping tightly around his arm. Brazil was much smaller than Death but strong. He hoisted Death back to his feet. "We're here."

Death looked around the station. They were really there. It'd been that easy. If he hadn't had made such a scene earlier at the main office, he could've done it himself without implicating anyone else. Death groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Thanks and I'm sorry."

"Good luck, friend." Brazil said. "I'm gonna grab some coffee and go."

"Of course." Death nodded in understanding. "Don't get in trouble because of me."

Brazil simply shrugged, walking over to the coffee kiosk. He had been prepared, he even had money to spend.

I realized at that point why Brazil was always exhausted. Unlike me, he was taking the opportunity to travel the world. This wasn't the first time he'd left jurisdiction and wouldn't be the last. I'd been as much a workaholic in death as I had been in life.

It was 4:45 a.m. and the station had just opened for the day. I paced anxiously until some Bobby came up and told me to bugger off. So then I sat anxiously. Minutes turned into hours. And then finally, I saw him.

Law walked onto the platform, his briefcase rolling along behind him. He stood with two other people, fellow doctors presumably, and they chatted with ease. Law looked like he always did, a little sour with dark rings under his eyes, but he smiled and laughed along with everyone else.

"What are you doing, Law?" Death muttered under his breath. He stood slowly, doing his best not to garner attention from any of the living around him.

The two other doctors waved goodbye and continued down the walkway. They went inside a little deli and disappeared, leaving Law alone on the platform. Death stalked through the crowds, his eyes focused intently on the man in front of him.

"For fuck's sake," England snapped from behind. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I…" Death faltered.

"The supervisors are looking for you," England warned. "They've sent a team to Mongolia, you know."

"I'm sorry," Death sighed. "I don't have time to worry about that."

"I have to take the soul." England said apologetically. "You have to understand where I'm coming from."

"I understand." Death nodded, pulling away from England impatiently. "But I've gotta try to stop him…"

"Stop him?" England called after Death. "What do you mean?"

"Corazon?" Law shook his head in confusion, looking from Death to England slowly.

"Law, please…" Death pleaded, crossing the platform. "Don't do it."

"Do what?" Law murmured, realizing that they'd caught people's attention. "Hey, can people see you right now? What's going on?"

"I left my jurisdiction. People can see and hear me here." Death explained quickly. "But what about you? What are you doing?"

I was close enough to touch him now.

"I'm waiting on the train." Law drawled, his grey eyes narrowed. He looked from Death to England and swallowed thickly. "Something bad's going to happen, innit?"

"You're gonna step out in front of that train…" Death croaked. "I can't let you do that."

"I'm not gonna step out in front of the train." Law insisted, shaking his head. "What are you on a-a-a-b-b-b-out?"

"Law?" Death breathed out, his hands awkwardly held out but unable to touch.

"'M feelin' a b-b-bit…" Law said with difficulty. "Unwell…"

"Come here," Death urged. "Step away from the line and come this way…"

"Ireland!" England shouted in warning, making his way through the crowd. "The supervisors are on their way here now… You need to get going…"

"Law." Death breathed, reaching out with his hands, but careful not to touch. The platform began to rumble, the vibrations shooting up Death's legs. "Come here."

Law blanched, a stream of blood trickling from his nose, "C-Cora-zon…"

Law stumbled on the platform, and then his eyes met Death's, his hand reached out for his but Death couldn't take it. It killed him not to take it. And the next moment Law was gone. He'd fallen backward off the platform onto the tracks.

People screamed. Several men rushed over to pull Law off the tracks, but it was too late. There was a train barreling toward them. They bravely extended their hands, but no more, and they shouted, trying to rouse Law conscious.

"Don't…" Was the last thing Death heard England say.

Death leapt onto the tracks. The whole world was shaking. He lifted Law into his arms, cradling the slender man in his chest. The horn blared and the lights flashed. The onlookers screamed in panic.

One of Law's eyes opened weakly and he smiled. He reached up and caressed Death's face, "I… I've always… love-d…"

"Law," Death breathed out. And then it was over. The train, having no way to stop so suddenly, hit them both at full speed, killing Law instantly.

I died again. It wasn't pretty. And it certainly was never how I intended Law to go. There wasn't enough time. He had more to say, I had more to say. One moment he was here and the next moment he was gone. It's some bullshit, to live through so much, and then die from a ruptured neural aneurysm. Well, technically the train killed him. I never even had a clue he was sick. I guess there were a lot of things I never had a clue about.

"Ireland. You've been recalled."

Death opened his eyes, finding himself in front of the supervisors. He looked around the platform anxiously, "Where's Law?"

"Hmm?"

"The human I was with." Death explained impatiently. "Where is he?"

"You know how time works. He died first." One of the supervisors snapped, "England has already left to escort him downstairs."

"Downstairs?" Death murmured in shock. "You can't be serious…"

"I wouldn't worry too much about him." Another supervisor warned. "I'd be worried about you."

"I won't struggle." Death promised. "Just let me go downstairs first."

"Why?"

"I want to see him." Death replied.

"Absolutely not."

"I will see him." Death vowed.

"Ireland, be reasonable…"

Be reasonable. Okay. I'll be reasonable.

Death punched the supervisor closest to him in the face and ran. The absolute stupidity of fighting a supervisor would buy him time. He ran as fast and as hard as he could toward the downward spiral staircase. He took the steps three at a time, his long legs being quite advantageous in this situation.

"Law!" Death shouted, stumbling down the stairs and barely managing to right himself. "Law! Where are you?"

Death's voice echoed, bouncing back and forth across the stones. There was no answer, he kept going. "Law! England! Wait! Laaaaaw!"

"Ireland!" he heard a supervisor hiss from above.

"Damn it," Death snarled, a pinch in his side from the nonstop running.

Death's large foot missed a step. He let out a tiny gasp before rolling head over feet down the stone stairs. He cried out, his back, head, arms and legs, taking quite a beating. He finally lodged on a landing and struggled to his feet. He brushed himself off and, feeling much weaker, started back down the steps. "Law! Law, can you hear me?"

Death finally reached the next floor. To his relief, England and Law were stuck in the winding queue, all the way at the end. "Law!"

Law lifted his gaze, his chest heaving up and down, "Corazon?"

"What are you doing here?" England groaned, his hand brushing against his face.

"I'm sorry, Law," Death nearly growled, closing the distance between them. "This is all my fault."

Law opened his mouth to reply then changed his mind. He walked toward Death placing his hands on Death's chest. Death looked down, realizing that Law was touching the wounds from his life, or rather, his death.

"Mr. Trafalgar," England sighed. "Please don't cause any more trouble."

"Don't get in any more trouble for my sake." Law murmured, his hands feeling every inch of Death's chest. "You should go."

Death glared at England, "What did you say to him?"

"Just the truth." England snapped.

"Law, I…" Death began.

Law smiled, his fingers tightening around Death's shirt, "It was worth it to me."

"Don't…" Death groaned. "It can't be. You didn't get to do anything…"

Law released Death and turned away, "I got to be with you."

"Stop it." Death hissed. "Stop it. You should've had so much more."

"I'm fine with it." Law whispered, he nodded toward the group of supervisors walking toward them. "Now go before you get into more trouble."

"Law," Death groaned, grabbing the young man's slender arm. "They're going to send you somewhere you can't come back from…"

"That's fine." Law insisted. "I want to die."

"How can you say that?" Death demanded. "This was just one temporary life. You could have so many more. You could be happy next time and…"

"Ireland!" one of the supervisors called out. "Come with us at once!"

"Law, please," Death hissed. "Come with me…"

"What's going to happen to you?" Law asked, shaking his head. He closed his eyes and chewed on his lip. "You're being selfish."

"That's right, I am. I am selfish…" Death agreed, doing his best to ignore the supervisors closing in on them. "Please let me be selfish just a little while longer…" Death grabbed hold of Law's hand, clasping it tightly. "I can't let you go through that door… I can't…"

"Ireland, this is the last time we will ask!" one of the supervisors shouted. "Cease and desist!"

"Come on, let's make this easier, let us through, please…" England huffed. "Excuse us. We'd like to go next. We've a special case here!"

Law was caught between England and Death, their icy hands wrapped around his wrists. He clicked his tongue in irritation, his grey eyes darkening, "Corazon, I'm sorry…"

And then there was a miracle.

"Wait!" Brazil shouted, running down the stairs with Mongolia following close behind. "Wait!"

"What's this?" a supervisor muttered.

"Oh for fuck's sake…" England snapped.

"What's going on?" Death asked, looking from Mongolia to Brazil in confusion.

"I have a-a let-ter…" Brazil gasped, holding his sides in exhaustion.

Mongolia took the letter that Brazil held up and walked forward with a smile, "It's from The Management."

"What is?" the supervisors barked.

"It reads," Mongolia began, the note shaking between his hands. "'After careful consideration of the case of Trafalgar D Water Law, it has been decided to promote the soul to Death Assistant, pay level I.'"

"What?" Death and England murmured in unison.

"That's impossible!" the supervisor growled. "Show me that letter!"

"How on Earth?" Death whispered.

Brazil smiled crookedly, "The Management said I was very convincing."

"That's impossible…" England gaped. "It takes a unanimous council to vote someone into a Death position."

Brazil snickered, "Oh please. Like that's hard to get or something?"

"Corazon, what's going on?" Law asked, his hand tightening around Death's.

Death didn't reply, he held his breath until the note was passed to him by a supervisor, "It's true."

"The Management wants to see you immediately." Mongolia explained. "Both of you."

Death pulled Law free of England's grip, pulling the slighter man against his chest. He looked down, his hand stroking Law's cheek. "Before anything else can happen," Death murmured softly. "There's something I have to do…" Death kissed Law deeply, his ice cold lips making Law's breath unfurl in wisps. "I love you."

"You're so late," Law breathed out, his head resting on Death's shoulder.

"Sorry."

Law chewed on his lip before replying, "I love you too."

My name is Death. I'm a Death, not the Death. I have my own name, but it's not something I would tell a mortal. My job is to collect souls and usher them to the underworld. I'm here, walking amongst you, invisible to the living world. It might sound lonely, but it isn't, because I'm not alone anymore. The afterlife is a million times better than my actual life was. It's been great, truly.

I don't have any complaints, well, except one; I have a damn frustrating assistant. It's nothing new. He's been the most lovable little headache of my life. It's just one problem after another with this guy. It all started 19 years ago, right after I died…