Death the Kid treaded quietly down the linoleum hallway of the hospital.

People shushed as he walked, both out of respect and fear, and Kid really couldn't blame them; it was never a good sign to see a Reaper in a hospital.

For the most part he ignored it. They had no reason to fear anyway, he wasn't there for them. He was there to visit an old friend, and even though the conditions weren't ideal, he found himself glad to see her.

He knocked on the door of the hospital room, and as he was called in he was pleasantly surprised to see that she was alone and had a room to herself. It would make his job much easier.

An old woman sat up in her bed as he entered- at first looking surprised and then pleased as she recognized him. "Kid, " She said warmly, "I had a feeling I would see you soon."

He nodded. "Is now a good time?"

"Of course," She smoothed out the hospital sheets around her in an attempt to make herself more presentable. "Malory just went down to the cafeteria with Sammy, so I think now might be best."

Kid nodded again. Malory was her daughter, Sammy her granddaughter. "Are you sure you don't want them here? I have some time, so I could go get them for you. I know sometimes it's nice for the family to be there."

"No," The old woman mused, "I think this is something I should do without them." Her eyes flickered to Kid's with a hint of mirth. "Are you always this polite at a reaping, Kid? You've been very helpful."

He smiled softly. "Well, things are a bit different when it's you, Maka."

Her green eyes crinkled as she smiled. "I guess it's always different between old friends."

Old age had been good to Maka. Her blond hair had turned ashy, and as she had aged she had decided to cut it much shorter and more like a boys, but her green eyes were as luminous as always. Her skin had puckered and wrinkled with years of smiling and scowling, but despite this she still had a loving glow. Age had not turned her cold, as it did some. It actually seemed to bring out her inner light, as if as she grew older layers of her peeled off and exposed the pureness of her soul.

"Do you mind if we sit and talk for a while? You said you had time, and it's been so long sense we've really had a chance to." She smiled lightly.

"Of course. May I sit?"

"Please do."

He took the chair beside her bed. It had a violet sweater draped over the back, which reminded Kid that Maka's daughter and granddaughter would soon return, but he took the seat anyway.

He deserved to have some time with his close friend.

After all, she was his last.

Somewhere in his heart Kid had known she would be; Maka was resilient. Maka was a fighter. Maka would stick around for him.

Blackstar was the first among his friends to die. He had been killed in a mission at the age of 48- leaving Tsubaki alone with their daughter, Sayuri. His death had come as a shock to everyone, but part of Kid wasn't surprised- the blue haired assassin was always so reckless, and in the end that had spoiled him. Death the Kid never had the opportunity to collect Blackstars soul- it had been devoured by the pre-kishin that had ended him- but he did have the pleasure of slaughtering the pre-kishin who had killed his friend many day's later. Never before had he been so vicious in dismembering a single thing; he had made sure those last few moments of the pre-kishin's life had been bloody and excruciating.

Still, it had been months before Tsubaki had managed to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

"You look good, Kid." Maka said, derailing his train of thought. "Reaper life must be treating you well. Plus there's the fact that you still look like you're 25. You sure make me feel old." She started to laugh but it quickly dissolved into a cough, and so Kid got up and brought her a glass of water from the sink her hospital room harbored. "Thank you." She rasped, and he nodded.

It was true that Kid still looked young. Sure, he had aged at the same rate as the rest of them for most of his life, but then as soon as his father had died and he had taken over his position as Lord Death, the aging process seemed to suddenly slow to a crawl. It would be thousands of years, maybe more, before he began to look as old as Maka did now. It soon became apparent to him that it was his fate to slowly watch his friends die around him, and it was something that he had come to accept.

Truthfully, it had been his weapons deaths that had been the hardest to deal with. When she was twenty-three, Liz had married a man named Cole- who Kid had rather liked- and had three children: Two boys, Jake and Derek, who were not weapons, and one girl, Alex, who turned into a pistol just like her mother. Patti had never taken a spouse, choosing instead to stay at his side. He was never exactly sure of her intentions toward him, as they had neglected to ever define their relationship, but they had lived rather harmoniously alongside each other for a long time. Also, he was sure that Patti was possibly the best aunt Liz's kids could have ever had. When Patti had gotten early onset dementia in her 50's and had deteriorated quickly after, it was the only time he had truly wished he were not a reaper. Liz had died soon after; some said that the grief was too much for her to handle…

He jolted when he realized that Maka was watching him, her eyes filled with sympathy. She had clearly been thinking along the same lines as him. "We really haven't been fair on you, have we? You're much to good a person to have this burden thrust upon you."

Kid said nothing about the subject, wishful thinking and what if's had long been abandoned, replaced with the stark reality in front of him. He reached out and brushed some of her wispy hair out of her eyes. "Sammy is looking well. You can see a lot of Soul in her, can't you?"

Maka beamed at the thought of her granddaughter, and Kid's obvious changing of the subject was graciously ignored. "You think so too? I was so disappointed when Malory ended up looking so much like my Papa," She laughed lightly, "Thank God she didn't end up acting like him though."

Kid smiled, "No, she definitely takes after you, personality wise."

Malory, while certainly looking like Spirit with her shock of maroon hair, had inherited Maka's studious personality and fighting ability. She had ended up a miester, and then later had acquired a teaching job at Shibusen. Kid was extremely pleased with her skill. She managed to be strict with her students and teach them rigorously while still being soft and protective when she need be. Kid couldn't help but compare her to the late Professor Stein- minus the constant dissections- and he knew that he could trust her to take care of her students as if her life depended on it.

Maka frowned, "Yes, maybe she acts a bit too much like me, she needs to take a break sometimes. It's a good thing Kimihiro is there to keep her in line. You'll make sure that she doesn't work herself too hard when I'm gone, won't you?"

Kimihiro was Malory's husband and weapon, as well as being another teacher at Shibusen. He was a tall, rather handsome, man, and while his glasses were normally askew and he had a tendency to baby his student's due to the soft spot he had for them, he was a good teacher and someone else Kid knew he could trust. "Of course." Kid's mouth curled wryly as he teased, "It's ironic to hear you telling someone else to take a break, it's not as if you took a break your entire life."

"Oh, please, you sound just like Soul did." She scowled at the thought of the way her late husband used to taunt her, and then sighed. "It's such a shame he never got to see Sammy after she was first born, he would have been so pleased his hair had been passed down a generation. Do you remember the way he used to pride himself on it?" She rolled her eyes, but Kid could see the love in them as she spoke of him.

Soul had died in a freak motorcycle accident before Sammy had been born, and Kid still remembered the way Maka had wept on Kid's shoulder, moaning, "I always knew that thing would be the death of him. I told him- I told him- but he never listened!"

"Oh, that reminds me!" She said suddenly, "How are Felix and Felicia?"

Kid shrugged, "About the same as always. They're always bickering about one thing or another, and they act like they don't care each other, but it's so obvious that they do, I don't even know why they bother." He sighed heavily, "I miss the day's when they used to pretend to be on their best behavior so I wouldn't get angry and kick them out. Now they just ignore me whenever I try to get them to behave."

Upon the death of Liz and Patti, it had become quite obvious that he could not go around weaponless, and so for years after he had searched to find a pair of symmetrical weapons that he could match with on a personal wavelength. It was harder than it looked. He had almost resigned himself to battling with a weapon that was asymmetrical when, seemingly out of nowhere, Felix and Felicia, a pair of 17-year-old fraternal twins, had appeared. The fact that they were swords and not guns didn't matter too much to Kid, and neither did the fact that they were not considered death-scythes yet. The fact that they were much too happy to finally be out of foster care to give a damn about his OCD only sweetened the deal, and it was very easy for their wavelength's to match.

"Sound's like you love them." Maka's old eye's sparkled.

"Humph."

Maka laughed. "Where are they today?"

"In class I suppose. I left them behind to come see you."

Maka pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Didn't Alex have a child recently?"

Kid's golden eyes brightened at the thought of Liz's child. He had been present when Alex gave birth, as he was considered a close family friend and technically had been appointed her godfather many years ago. "She had a pair of identical twins, actually; boys."

"Do you think they might be pistols as well?"

"It's possible."

Maka yawned, and her eyes started to droop. "It would be nice to have a pair Thompson's working for the Reaper again."

"Yes, it would." Kid said wistfully, and watched the old woman tenderly as she visibly grew tired.

"I think soon might be nice, Kid." She said, exhaling slowly.

A sudden shot of panic gripped the reaper's heart as he comprehended what she was saying, and he grabbed Maka's hand, suddenly and uncharacteristically desperate. "Are you sure? Are you sure there isn't anything else you want to talk about?" He had thought this talk would have lasted longer. They had barely discussed anything, it felt like, but Maka just slowly looked at him with amused, but tired eyes.

"Yes Kid, that's all I want to talk about. It's been an exceedingly pleasant conversation but I think that we'll have to cut it short this time." She smiled dryly. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

It wasn't really a question.

He squeezed her hand. It looked so strange in his: old and calloused and scarred with battles she had won and lost. He remembered the time when her slender hands had been dwarfed in his larger ones, and she had turned and beamed at him with her glowing smile, and that seemed, so, so, long ago.

But no, as she squeezed his hand back he could see that it was the same smile- that she was the same beautiful person she had always been.

"Tell everyone that I love them." She said.

"You too."

That made her smile again, and as she closed her eyes and finally relaxed into her hospital bed and let out a long sigh, Kid stood.

"Thank you for always being one of my best friends, Maka Evans."

"Thank you for always being one of my best friends, Lord Death. I hope you have many, many more."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Goodbye." He whispered.

He had plenty of time, but he wanted to do this quickly. He hovered his hand above her chest, and, breathing deeply, extracted her soul.

Beside him, he felt her stop breathing, but he ignored that and instead focused on Maka's soul. It was so beautiful, so pure, and he didn't know how anyone could ever think of tarnishing it.

Slowly, deliberately, he stroked it with his thumb; basked in its radiance; felt warmed by Maka's presence.

And then… he let it go.

It dissipated quickly, soon leaving nothing but empty air where it had once been.

Death the Kid turned away from Maka's body and left the room. His work was done, and the flat lining of her heart monitor would soon notify the doctors- something he did not want to get caught in the middle of.

As he passed through the door, a shocked sound caught his attention and his head snapped around to locate the noise.

There was Malory, standing mere feet from him; her green eyes, which were carbon copies of her mothers, wide with surprise. Her mouth was a small 'o' of horror, which then flattened into a grim line of acceptance when Kid did not say anything. Finally, she forced herself to nod at him. "Hello, Lord Death."

He nodded grimly back at her, "Hello, Mrs. Kuroda. Hello, Sammy."

Sammy was standing behind her mother, holding onto the back of Malory's jacket, her brown eyes confused. "Hello, Lord Death." She parroted instantly- it was one of the first things they taught at Shibusen. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer he question. Instead he turned to Malory and said, "I'll see you in a few weeks then, will that be enough time?"

She nodded robotically, "Yes, of course."

Sammy's eyebrows creased, and her chin length snowy hair bounced as she shook her head in puzzlement. "A few weeks, why?" Her eyes widened suddenly as she glanced at the room her grandmother's body currently rested in, "Oh…"

Kid suddenly found himself patting the little girls head soothingly, his legs having carried him over to her of their own accord. "I'll see you then as well."

"Yes, Lord Death." She sniffled, suddenly subdued.

He turned away from them both sharply, attempting to ignore the aching feeling in his chest as he tried to remain stoic.

"If you would like, I will contact Mr. Kuroda for you."

"Yes," Malory said softly, "Please."

"Right."

Death the Kid treaded quietly down the linoleum hallway of the hospital.

Because this was the life of a God.