TITLE: Dead Like Me, "Stopover"

AUTHOR: SpikeslittleBit

RATING: PG-13 for language, but personally, I think it should be higher for that purpose, but I don't make the rules; nothing that wouldn't be on the show.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own DLM, it belongs to Showtime/MGM. I would normally add something about the show's creator and something to the effect of worshipping the proverbial ground he/she walks on, but seeing as I do not know who that is, I'll let it slide, and in the words of George, Whatever.

SUMMARY: A "bouncer" visit's the crew for a few days on a Stopover to Australia (I'll explain "bouncer in the storyline) and she throws things a little off kilter. George's POV obviously... if I tell too much, it'll give it away.

A/N: Season 2, obviously, in the midst of the Ray Summers/Daisy Arc. Meant to be an extra episode, maybe two.

"Stopover"

Arrivals

Ever notice just how many people roam around an airport? People leaving on business, perhaps a secret rendezvous; people coming home to welcome arms and tears from loved ones. But then again, there are some people who just hangout, think it's cool to watch the people walk on by. There are soldiers coming home from war, college students leaving for a high-priced education on the other side of the fucking planet, etc. and so forth.

So why the fuck am I here?

It was a weird morning. I got to Der Waffle Haus pretty early cause I actually woke up and was hungry. I thought, good, I might actually get a breakfast in my stomach before going into Happy Time, or before an early morning surprise reap. The latter I wasn't much looking forward to if that was the case.

As I was saying, I got to the diner early and much to my shock, not only was Rube sitting at our usual booth, but so was...

"Mason? You realize that it's 7:15. In the morning," I said sardonically as I slid into the booth next to Rube. "Did you even know there were hours in the day before 10 AM?"

"I couldn't sleep," he replied quietly. I gave him a quick once-over. God, he looked so thrashed, and not in the usual drunken Mason way, either. It was as if he had gone a couple rounds with a Mack-truck.

"You okay? You look like Death," I asked sincerely. I heard a snort next to me and looked over to see that wonderful trademark smirk of Rube's creep across his face as he was making out the post-its for the day. "No pun intended, thank you very much."

"I got a lot on my mind, Georgie-girl," Mason replied, "and I don't particularly feel like sharing." He pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig as Kiffany approached us to take our order.

"What'll you have sweetie?" she asked me.

"Oh, just a Breakfast at Tiffany's with an Orange Juice, and give Rube the bacon."

As she walked away, Rube slapped a post-it on the table in front of Mason, and an oddly marked one in front of me. It said "Tommy, the Airport, arrival 12:45, Gate 25".

"Uh, since when do we get first names on post-its?" I asked curiously.

"Since it's not a reap, it's a pickup. Gotta bouncer flyin' in on a stopover," he replied.

"A whatter?"

"A bouncer," Mason chimed in. "A substitute reaper. They tend to fill in when a reaper is transferred."

I thought for a moment. We have temps? How weird is that? This whole reaper thing is getting to be more and more like corporate America every day. And that just sucks.

"So, they're like temps?"

"Sort of," Rube replied. "Now get up. I got business to attend to," he added as he grabbed the paper and headed for the restroom.

"Huh," I heard come outta Mason as he looked his post-it over. "Looks like I'm goin' with you, George. D. Trundle, Airport, 12:48 turnstiles."

All I could do is roll my eyes. Not that I dislike Mason, I just don't like goin' on reaps with him.

"Meet me at work at 11:30," I said forbearingly.

To my surprise, he was actually five minutes early. I had a hell of a time explaining Mason to Delores, as she eyed him suspiciously from her cube. Asking for an extended lunch wasn't all that great either.

"Well, at least you'll be coming back this time. Another doctor's appointment?" she asked.

"No, I have to pick up someone from the airport." At least that part was true. The only true excuse I ever had to give her. "My cousin, Tommy. He's visiting for a few days." Now that was a fucking full bald faced lie.

"Then who is that?" as she eyeballed Mason as he was spinning around on my chair at my desk.

"Mason? Oh he's my... I'm sponsoring him." That earned a raised eyebrow. "Oh, I guess I shouldn't tell you that, 'Anonymous' and all."

"Okay, gotcha," she said with an overly obvious wink. "Just get back as soon as you can, I gotta bit of work for you this afternoon. The holiday rush is coming up and I think we should get a head start."

"Sure thing, Delores," I said with a fake cheerful smile. I started to head out when she stopped me.

"I'm glad that you've decided to help someone out like that, Millie. It shows real compassion for others. I don't see that a lot from you," she said genuinely. Again, I flashed that sicky-sweet smile at her as I grabbed Mason by the arm and practically dragged him out of Happy Time.

We got to the airport shortly after and found seats at the gate to wait for our arrival. How weird is that, sounded like we were having a kid or something, Arrival. Mason held a hopeless sign that he made at my desk that had TOMMY scribbled drunkenly in pink highlighter. At least he was smart enough to not use the yellow one.

"So, what do you think this guy looks like?" I asked Mason, trying to make small talk and not sound as bored as I was.

"Probably pretty put together. Bouncers have to be highly responsible, or so I hear," he replied, as passengers began to deboard the plane. There were a few business men, but they passed us right on by.

"Why do they have to be, so responsible, I mean?"

"Cause they have assignments everywhere," he stated. "They're on call, like doctors."

"So are we," I interjected.

"Yeah, but not for the whole world," he replied.

Just then, this girl started to walk towards us. She was about my height, red hair, and a little too punk rock for my taste. She would have been perfect for Mason. She carried a ragged backpack that was littered with patches, and wore a white tank top, a purple plaid miniskirt, combat boots and a black silk blazer. I thought, nah, couldn't possibly. Tommy's a guy, has to be. Boy, was I in for a surprise.