The Peace of Death - a Michael Afton fanfic

The Peace of Death

Death's POV:

I see his life flash before my eyes. A tragic, horrible existence. This is not the first time we've met, but it will be the last. I reach for the mans spirit through the burning rubble, and tug him away from his world. After following him his whole miserable life, I'm grateful he can finally rest.

Something about his story has always drawn me to him. I've never had favorites until him.

I am Death, or at least a piece of her. They have pieces of themself scattered around the world all the time. I was assigned a person at random, destined to follow them from birth to death and maybe even beyond. It's my job to bring my assigned souls to the next realm, to give them the afterlife they deserve. That is, if they deserved a good one. If they don't, they are no longer my responsibility. I was lucky to be tasked with helping and comforting those souls deserving of a good eternity as they settle in to their new lives.

I carry the man away into the afterlife with me, cradling him in my arms, his head resting against me. His eyelids flutter open as we ascend into the bright, white void, and he begins gasping and thrashing. But it doesn't last long for him to relax, not after he hears me softly say,

"It's over, Michael. You're safe. You can rest now. This is the end."

After a moment more of panic, he becomes still again, limp in my arms. I'm sure his poor spirit is exhausted. He deserves to finally rest.

The next question is one I hear every single time I must pull a soul from the earth.

"Am I dead?"

His bright blue eyes stare up at me questioningly. I try to choose a form for each soul they will be most comfortable in to make the transition into death easier. Many prefer the way the they were in their prime. Poor Michael, such an awful form to die in. I wanted to give him something comfortable to inhabit, so I choose the form he had before he died the first time; his whole, young, strong body. I hope I chose right.

I nod at him and smile sweetly in response to his question.

He lifts his hands in front of his face, examining them and tugging on his shirtsleeves with astonishment and curiosity. His eyes show confusion behind them. He then asked,

"Am I really dead this time?"

"Yes, Michael. You made it," I reply.

His brow furrows, he's silent for another moment. He can take as much time as he needs. Where we're going, there's no need for time.

"Is my father here? ...Where is here...?"

I blink in surprise and disgust at the mention of his father. How sad that after finding out he's dead, the first thing he asks about is his wretched father.

"No, he's not going to be where we're going. He never will. Your father will never hurt you again. I promise."

Those words felt indescribably good on my tongue and any tensity in Michaels face softened at my response.

They always have so many questions. Not that I mind ordinarily, but his story is painful to discuss. But it's all apart of what I do for these souls. What usually I love to do. I don't love it any less this time, it's just a more bittersweet experience than what I'm used to.

"Why didn't we meet the other time I died?"

My serene smile falters a little, I get sad just thinking about it. I don't want to answer simply because it upsets me, but for all he's been through, he deserves the answers..eventually.

"You can ask me anything you want once we get where we're going. I promise I'll answer everything as best as I can."

"Can I ask one more question?"