Author's Notes: The only reason I'm writing this is because I thought it would be FUN to write. It's probably the most absurd, out there idea I've ever had, but it's tons of fun to play with and I thought that maybe it'd be fun to read. Sorry it's so crazy.

Disc-claimer: If I owned the discworld, it'd be even crazier than it already is - as this fanfiction proves. No, I'm just a lowly wanna-be writer who loves this world with enough passion to do an author's equivalent of 'doodling' with it. THE DISC BELONGS TO TERRY PRATCHETT!

***
CHAPTER ONE
Just a Dream
***

Susan's hair shifted frantically in a foggy, tangling mess around her head. She hadn't seen it this out of control since she'd been sixteen. Of course, the schoolteacher wasn't paying her hair any mind. She was more preoccupied with something else.

Susan paced her apartment frantically. Her legs kept kicking out in front of her as she shifted back and forth, back and forth. She was feeling nauseous, but she didn't bother to acknowledge that. It was part of the problem.

Susan opened up her calendar and frantically double checked the dates.

"It isn't possible," she hissed. "It isn't possible!"

She weighed herself on the scale again, just to be sure. Yes, she'd gained weight. That was saying something, as she still looked skinny as a twig. Susan felt like screaming as she plopped onto the couch and reality came crashing down on her. She was too weak to fight it anymore, and there she sat, looking dumbstruck.

"But it was just a dream..." she said quietly, so lost and confused.

But there was no getting around it. There was no denying it. Susan had missed her time of the month for the second time in a row, she had gained weight, she was feeling nauseous, and she hadn't been so moody since puberty.

"I can't be pregnant."

***

FLASH BACK

Two Months

***

"It was such a tragic tale..." Astoria sobbed. "It was so sad. Now they'll never..." she sniffed, her throat choking, "they'll never..." she coughed, "they'll never..."

"Oh, shut it," Fate groaned. "You've been going on about this for so long now. Really."

"I can't get over it!" she wailed, shaking her fists.

"You seemed fine when we went to that party last week," the Lady commented dryly.

"It's not even actual love," Fate said. "He'd kill her in a snap."

"But he loved her!"

"No he didn't."

"I should know!" Astoria shrieked, standing to her feet. "I am love!"

The Lady raised a brow.

"If he loved her he wouldn't have been so sadistic in his last moments," Fate countered.

"He was hurt. Theirs is an epic romance that I will not have you slander!" the goddess called sharply.

The Lady listened intently.

"Oh, come now. I bet if someone paid him to do it he'd kill her without a second thought. I bet if he were given more time on the disc we'd see how incapable of love he is," Fate said sharply.

Astoria looked ready to explode.

"I'll take that bet," the Lady said calmly, interrupting her fellow goddess before she had a chance to speak. "Let's play with our pawns, shan't we? Let's see who wins."

"...And if I do win," Fate asked, "if I do, what do I get?"

The Lady rung her hands idly.

"You get my pawn. And if I win I get your pawn."

"Which pawns?"

"The pawns we'll play with, of course."

"One little problem," Blind Io, who to this second had been watching in amusement, pointed out. "Teatime's dead."

"One can work around such trifles," Fate replied dismissively. "After all, we are gods."

*

Teatime's eyes snapped open and he found himself sitting on a couch in the middle of a red room. A man was standing with his arms folded behind his back professionally. He had empty eyes. Teatime blinked slowly, before standing himself.

"Is this the afterlife, sir? Is one Susan Sto-Helit expected here anytime soon, sir?"

Now Fate blinked.

"Yes, the afterlife should be expecting the woman of whom you speak very shortly," the god replied.

"Very shortly in terms of human life, or in terms of the universe?" the Assassin asked.

Fate blinked again.

"And what do you mean by that, boy?"

Teatime flinched.

"I admit that I am most young compared to many, but I am not a boy. I have done things no boy would. I am smarter, though perhaps not as wise, as many three times my age. I am not a boy, sir."

Fate raised a brow.

"Well, then, young man – is that more acceptable?"

Teatime grinned broadly.

"Oh, yes, much more acceptable. Thank you."

"Well, then, young man, what do you mean by that?"

"For me a short time would probably constitute as a week. For the disc, a short time would probably constitute as much, much longer. A hundred years – a thousand... it has seen many more days than I."

"Ah. Well, in that case, a long period of time for you, and a blink of an eye for the disc," Fate answered.

"How long?"

"A little over a year."

Teatime grinned in relief.

"I was expecting a much larger number. I can wait a year! A year is nothing."

"Why, may I ask, is this Susan so intriguing to you?"

"She's hard to put to words, sir. Very hard to put to words, but that's probably what I like about her."

"Was she your sister, perhaps?"

"No. I am very glad that she is not."

"Your wife, then?"

"No. I'd probably have died much sooner if that were true," the Assassin chirped cheerfully.

"Then what is she to you?"

"Susan's my frien-emy."

"I'm not sure if I've heard of that."

"Oh, you wouldn't have. It includes romantic interludes mixed with deep conversations and brief spouts of violence. Not to mention the attempted murder – for her – /inhumation – for me – of the other."

"Is that how you died?" Fate asked dryly.

"Oh, yes. In a most glorious fashion. Very poetic." Teatime's face grew thoughtful, "Shouldn't you know all this, though? How I died, who I am? It was my thought that we each would be received quite carefully."

"I'm afraid that I've mislead you, Mr. Teh-ah-tim-eh. I never lied, but I have mislead you."

Teatime glanced down and pursed his lips.

"I would thank you for getting my name right, but I do so dislike being mislead. It gets on my nerves." He glanced up, "Not many things can get on my nerves, sir."

"I am Fate."

It seemed the appropriate time to make that apparent.

"Ah. I see. Then this is not the afterlife, and..." he paused thoughtfully, then brightened happily, "...and I am not dead."

"No, you are, in fact, halfdead."

"Halfdead, sir?" the Assassin asked curiously.

"You are between Life and Death. I can choose to push you either way, if I so like, and it is I alone who is holding you here." That was a lie; the Lady, Astoria, and Blind Io were helping, but he didn't have to know that.

"And why are you doing that, sir?"

"For one reason and one alone: I think you can do something no other mortal could. You see, I wish one particular individual inhumed – "

"Ah, so this is a matter of business, sir. I can do inhumations well. I suppose you'll be paying me with a life, sir? But will you really be paying me? See, as far as I can tell, I'm going to die anyway, so why wait around a little longer when I could be skewered with a toasting fork or impaled with a poker at any second?"

Fate frowned; he hadn't quite expected that. Then again, Teatime was rather hard to predict.

"Yes, but wouldn't you like more time?"

"I don't really care about that," Teatime said with a large, boyish grin. "The afterlife will be a new adventure. And you said Susan would be coming soon, so I could drive her to her wits end with all sorts of silly things. I don't like looking back, sir. I move forwards, and I've passed the Life stage of being, so why take a step back?"

Fate blinked. This young man really was quite confusing.

"Is there anything I could do to make this worth while for you, then?"

"Yes, in fact," Teatime chimed, his eerie grin broadening. "Yes indeed, sir. If you were to make me immortal, I would gladly go about doing this for you."

"Wait, I thought the whole point was that you didn't want to go back and that – "

Teatime clucked patronizingly. It really wasn't wise to do that to Fate, but the god was too flustered and confused to notice and unleash his wrath.

"If I'm going to go forwards anyway, why bother with going back? Might as well get started on it, if you ask me. But, if I'm going to be staying for good, then I can work to bend the world to my will. It makes sense, see?"

"Fine," Fate ground out with irritation. "Fine. If you complete this contract, I'll make you immortal. And you'll get one year beforehand to use as you please."

"I believe we have an accord," Teatime said charmingly with his maniacally childish grin plastered to his face. "Who is it you wish inhumed?"

"Susan Sto-Helit."

His grin flickered and faltered, but only for a fraction of a second.

"Ah. Then I am to be what brings her to the afterlife in the year's time?"

"Yes."

"Ah. I see. This is... different than I expected," his voice was thoughtful as he glanced down darkly. But then he brightened and looked up cheerfully, "But a deal's a deal, as they say. Send me back, and you'll have death's granddaughter stone dead in one year's time."

"Are you sure?"

"You can count on me, sir. I am very competent, sir. Worry not!"

That was exceedingly hard to do (even for gods) when Jonathan Teatime was in the room.

*

Susan's head was light and airy. Her soul was all float-y and happy, and, best of all, she wasn't thinking about Him. Yes, He was long gone from her psyche. She was drunk, and He didn't invade her thoughts when she was drunk. Thank the gods for that!

Or at least that's what she'd thought. Susan groaned, glancing to her left and realizing she was hallucinating. There he was, that curly haired insane murderer who she'd come to adore enough to actually feel sad about killing, drinking at the bar. She hated it when she hallucinated him.

"Susan!" he said cheerfully.

Susan downed whatever it was she'd been drinking and called for another before turning to him grouchily.

"Get out of my head, will you!?" she called angrily. "I'm tired of dreaming about you and seeing you and thinking about you. I'm tired of it. So what if I killed you? So what if I liked you? So what if I hated you? No one should make such a drastic impact on me. I'm my own!"

He glanced down thoughtfully.

"I don't think I'm in your head, Susan," then he glanced up, grinning. "But it's simply lovely to know that you haven't forgotten me. And it's even nicer to know that you've dreamed about me. I missed you, too, Susan."

Susan rolled her eyes.

"Well, at least my imagination has you down pat, Teatime. You're just as annoying as usual."

"Teh-ah-tim-eh," he replied automatically.

"Like hell am I ever going to say that."

"Oh, one of these days you will," the Assassin assured her, eyes glinting in a way that Susan just knew meant trouble. "One of these days."

"I doubt it."

"Are you going to step dance on the table again?"

"NO!"

"And I thought you weren't ever going to drink again."

"Old habits die hard," she grumbled. How'd he even hear that? He'd been downstairs –

Oh. Right. He's dead. This isn't him.

Susan felt a slight stab of sadness, followed by a spinning head, a bout of ecstasy, then a bit of confusion ended with a slam-dunk of 'oh, whatever!'.

"Ah. Perhaps then I am an old habit, as I haven't died. I imagine it'd be rather hard to make that come about."

"It wasn't particularly so when I did it," Susan pointed out.

"But it didn't work, see?" he explained.

"Yes, it did. You're a hallucination."

"Your logical skills must be truly hindered, Susan, as, I assure you, I am quite real."

"Mmhmm. Right."

Teatime stood and leaned around her in a blur, his face approximately eight inches from hers and very curious. It all happened more quickly than Susan could blink.

"Right," he agreed as a huge, lopsided, and most definitely twisted grin spread across his face.

Susan raised a brow.

"Right."

Before she could blink (yet again) someone (being Him) grabbed the something (being her drink) in her hand and slammed it down on a flat surface (being the bar) and pressed a particular part of his body (being his lips) to hers.

Damn, who knew hallucinations could feel this good?was Susan's first thought.

Golly, I missedyou, Teatime, was Susan's second thought.

Shouldn't I be feeling bad about this for some reason? was Susan's third thought.

And, Oh, to blazes with it all. My head hurts, was Susan's final thought. She promptly turned her brain off afterwards.

Teatime pulled back half an inch and grinned.

"Will you say it now?"

"I don't think so," Susan mumbled.

"Please? See, it's easy; teh-ah-tim – "

The duchess burst out laughing.

"You're silly," she observed plainly.

He blinked thoughtfully.

"Hmm. Not many people have said that." Teatime cocked his head thoughtfully. "On the other hand, not many people have known me long enough to say much at all."

"I'll believe that," Susan grumbled, standing and walking towards the door to the bar. The Assassin followed her with a brisk pace.

"Where are you going?" he chirped curiously.

"Home."

"To the Gaiters'?"

"I'm a teacher now. No, to my apartment."

"Oh. I'm coming with you," he said cheerfully. It wasn't a question; it was a plain statement of fact.

"Suit yourself."

Susan shook her head, wondering why her stupid imagination wouldn't stop bugging her. Was she finally going crazy? After all those years of trying to ignore her Death-half, after losing her parents, after having Quoth, Death of Rats, and Death himself coming at her with so many different things to say, after going on so many pointless adventures to save the disc, after having to deal with Twyla and Gawain (those darlingly devilish children), after inadvertently (no, that was a lie; it was most definitely advertently, but oh well) killing the one man she might actually have a future with after figuring out that he was more than crazy (he was psychopathic), had she finally gone over the edge? It was a distinct possibility.

Of course, she could also be completely drunk. Susan liked this option a bit better, and decided to stick with it – for the time being, at least. Perhaps later she could use it to blackmail Death into leaving her alone (You're driving me crazy, Granddad! Not two days ago I had an actual hallucination!).

Susan pulled the door open, barged in, and slammed it behind her. There hadn't been a second of free time, but somehow Teatime had managed to slip in anyway.

Well, at least my imagination has him down pretty good, she thought again.

"Want a cup of tea?" she asked, rather impolitely.

The Assassin beamed, hands still in the pockets of his long trenchcoat.

"No, no thank you. I'm not much thirsty at the moment. It's so nice to see that you haven't changed a bit, Susan. Your face is still a little bit red like it always is when you're a bit tipsy. Not to mention that you're still just as grouchy."

"Teatime – " Susan growled.

"And you still... growl."

Susan nearly snarled, but feared he'd make another such comment.

"Want to see if I'm still poker handy? I can skewer you again, if you like."

"Susan, I've been gone a very long time. I've rather missed you. I can't quite remember much of the afterlife, but I doubt there was much to remember. But when I was there I remembered you quite clearly. When I got back, I knew I just had to see you once before I had to complete my work."

"You're what – ?"

"Shh, Susan," he said softly, bringing a finger to his lips and tilting his head the slightest degree – very, very slowly. "Please be quiet."

"Why?"

He pursed his lips, looking slightly exasperated. In a flash, the wall slammed into her back and Teatime appeared directly in front of her, pressing her shoulders up against the hard surface. He'd done something like this before; he wasn't smiling this time, though. He, in fact, looked rather thoughtful.

"I am very much real, Susan," he said plainly, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Susan wasn't quite sure whether she should be frightened or not. There certainly was a dangerous glint in his eyes that she'd never seen before. And he was definitely in his aggressive-mood. Well, there really was only one way to deal with that. She would have to get aggressive too.

"You feel real," Susan replied. "Then again, so does the rhinoceros trampling on my head. But, let me try something."

She leaned forwards and kissed him. He seemed surprised for half a second. Only half a second, though.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "I'll say you're real enough for tonight."

Susan uncharacteristically shrieked as quite suddenly the floor vanished from underneath her feet and she found Teatime was holding her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?" she sputtered.

"I'm sweeping you off your feet, Susan," he replied, grinning mischievously.

How exactly she had ended up undressed in her bed with one similarly attired Assassin beside her sometime after 2:00am, she didn't know.

"That was fun," Teatime observed with a charmingly crooked grin.

Susan hit his head with a pillow. Hard (which may seem impossible, and it very well might be for the average person. But, and I think you know, Susan is not the average person).

*

When Susan woke up her head was pounding (of course, that was to be expected) and she was all alone. That was to be expected, too, of course. But somehow she was still surprised. Susan shook her head sadly (and then regretted it as her headache tripled).

"That was the craziest dream I've had in months," she whispered softly.

The schoolteacher took a hot bubble bath, then devoured approximately two boxes of chocolates and read three books, all in the hopes of driving Teatime from her mind. She hated how he invaded her thoughts all the time. She hadn't even known him for quite a year. But he had been someone she could truly be herself around, and she never felt awkward with the crazed Assassin – agitated, happy, infuriated, amused, confused, and aggravated yes, but never awkward.

And then she had to go and find out that not only was he an Assassin (though she already knew that bit), but that his 'inhumations' were some of the most brutal, inhuman things one could imagine. He'd nailed a dog to the ceiling. He'd cut off a man's head. He'd mutilated a maid and a butler. And Susan had personally seen these bodies. She shivered in disgust. It just wasn't right. And that was why she'd had to kill him. Well, that and the fact that he very well might have killed her grandfather and her charges. It was more of a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.

The thing was, he didn't see what was wrong with what he did. As far as he knew, he'd only done things right. And that was infuriating.

It was so wrong that this twisted man, out of all the others, would be the one who she cared for.

Susan slammed her head at her own heart's stupidity.

And, approximately two months later, Susan did exactly the same thing.

IT WAS JUST A DREAM! she called angrily.

As if screaming against it could somehow change things.