The Characters and Disc World belong to the late Sir Pratchett entirely. I only own this brief scene. Set 10 years after the events of The Hogfather.
The Governess of the Gaiter home, Susan Sto Helit hadn't aged a day in the decade that had passed since saving Hogswatch. Her wishes to be 'normal' were null and void in most arenas, but those who she interacted with on a constant basis seldom noticed the oddities of the Governess. Save for the children of course. Susan continued to be impressed at the intelligence Gawain and Twyla held despite their parent's lack of sense. She was a rather modest woman, or at least tried to hold the appearance of it, but Susan knew well enough that any brains, decency or any other admirable qualities the pair had, it was in thanks to her.
It was the eve before Hogswatch, and while it was the anniversary of Susan saving humanity as everyone knew, she hardly blinked at the memory. So much had occurred since that night, mostly annoyances that came with life, but some admirable things as well, but her time with the Gaiter's was coming to an end. Both children were home in observance of the holiday, but Twyla was in University, and Gawain was preparing to help oversee the family business once he was finished with his education.
She knew it was only a matter of time before the master of the house excused her from her duties, but she imagined it would be by the end of summer, not in the dead of winter.
"Susan, you really have been a treasure," motioned Mr. Gaiter.
"An absolute treasure," chimed his wife, nodding vigorously.
"But it's time for me to go, isn't it?" Susan said cutting to the chase. Where the years hardly touched Susan, it had all but washed away the color and life from the pair. While they've aged in features, the couple remained to be as youthful and dim witted in spirit.
"It's not that we are ungrateful, you have been a godsend to us and the children, but they hardly need us anymore, let alone their keeper," stated Mr. Gaiter. "Soon enough Twyla will be married off with a family of her own, and Gawain shall head the business, letting myself and my wife enjoy our golden years, where we intend to settle down in a climate that is more accommodating of folks our age."
"I see." Susan said who was rather unphased by the end of her employment. "Shall I pack now, or will I be given time to find new work before leaving your company?"
"Well, we were hoping you could leave tonight. We are sending you off with a very reasonable severance package, a Hogswatch bonus and a little extra to see you off. If you can vacate your room before our guests arrive it would be preferable," spoke Mr. Gaiter. He was a master of business, and relieving people from employment was a craft to him by this point in his life.
Susan shifted her gaze to the grandfather clock in the living room. It was a quarter past five and the guests would be arriving by six sharp. Susan held her breath.
"May I say goodbye to the children before I go?" Susan asked. She wanted to demand it, but her temper was already beginning to unhinge itself.
"We feel that it's best if you leave before they come home from their festivities as well. You know how emotional people of their age can get with goodbyes and all," spoke Mrs. Gaiter. "Can't have them crying in front of our guests. What a mess that would be!"
"Yes, I agree," Susan said plainly, bitterness evident in her voice but her former employers never were good at grasping her temperament or nature. "Having their lifelong Governess walk out on the eve of their favorite holiday without so much as a farewell is far less traumatizing."
"Oh good, you do understand!" Exclaimed the mother as she embraced Susan who was as stiff as stiff could be. "We'll send the children your love, so you better pack quickly!"
It took everything in Susan to not murder the two on the spot, but as much as she dislike her current situation, the idea of the children becoming orphans was less pleasing, and on top of that, she'd also prefer to see her grandfather on better terms.
With the aid of her inherited powers, Susan was able to pack up and leave within three minutes. In actuality it was at least an hour, but Susan had stopped time if only to curse out her former employers without them hearing her. In addition, she also left notes to the children, safely hidden away underneath their pillows. She would hardly say she was a sentimental person, but loved those kids, and adored the people they have become.
She was able to pack away all of her belongings into two suitcases. Standing before the frozen Gaiters again, she set time back into motion, with her packed bags at her feet. Not even a shred of curiosity was found between the two. By A'Tuin, they were daft.
"I was hoping that I could get a letter of recommendation before I left," Susan insisted now.
Finally recognition was brought to Mr. Gaiter's eyes and he produced a sealed envelope. It was thick, and no doubt carried the severance pay along with her other wages.
"It really has been a pleasure having you in our life Susan," stated Mrs. Gaiter, with Mr. Gaiter nodding in agreement. "We could not have asked for a better woman helping raise our darlings."
"Likewise," Susan stated, keeping her annoyance in check, turning her gaze to Mr. Gaiter. "Given your business experience, where might one find temporary lodging on the busiest night of the year?"
The Auditors of Reality were no strangers to breaking rules, and while they preferred to be quick when it came to business, the feat of bringing Jonathan Teatime back from Death took a great deal of coin, string pulling and navigating loop holes. But ten years to the day, Mr. Teatime was handed his certificate of un-death.
Teatime peered at the paper with his cold blue eye for a long time before looking back to the figures who stood- or more so floated, before him. One minute, he was enjoying the savory and delicate torture that only Hell itself could provide, and the next he sat in a comfy chair in what looked to be an abandoned pub. Glancing at his surroundings he recognized his currently location. He had a mark here once upon a time. It didn't count by the Guild's standards however, on account of too many witnesses. He had yet to learn that public assassinations were in poor taste.
"Do you know who we are?" Asked one of the specters, signaling Teatime back to the present.
"I do not." Teatime admitted in his singsong voice. "Should I know you gentlemen? If you are in fact gentlemen?"
"We are not, and you do not," replied a different specter. Teatime took count now and saw four of them before him. "All you need to know is that we are your employers."
Teatime licked his lips at the sudden talk of business. "I see," his mind was rather shaken with the suddenness of everything. It felt like an eternity had passed and yet no time at all. Time was really just a man-made concept however, what truly interested him, now more than ever, was Death. "What is it that I can do for you?"
"We request that you would eliminate a certain entity," replied the first specter. The three others nodded in unison. "We request, that you would remove Death from this world. Permanently."
Teatime blinked at the request, sitting back into the chair more to take in the proposed hit. Death. He had been so close to ceasing Death, ending the Hogfather, eliminating the Tooth Fairy and hell, potentially dominating the world.
Had it not been for Susan.
His hands gripped the arms of his chair at the thought of her. Understanding human emotions never was his strongest point, but when it came to that woman, he was at a true loss. In Hell, some days, when his keepers were particularly cruel, they would tempt him with her. Have her image delivering the blows, have her voice barking orders- her scent intoxicating his senses. But it was never her. He wanted it to be her some days, if only to play games with her.
Being dead, it gave one plenty of time to day dream, and the things that he imagined doing to Susan would make even the most dedicated Hell worker blush. He imagined the way her pale skin would feel as he carved it with a knife, question the way that she would scream, if she was capable. What would her voice sound like, would she be shrill, or remain to have that raucous tendency.
He had to admit, he spent far too much time dreaming about the woman who bested him, not once, but twice in a single night.
"I appreciate the offer gentlemen, but I'm afraid that this task is quite impossible," Teatime said rising to his feet. "I would know, I have tried."
"We know," came a third specter. "We watched your performance ten years ago."
"No one has ever been closer," spoke the second, and again they all nodded, passing along comments of praise. If it were possible, Teatime would say he was flattered, but the man remained indifferent.
"I have to disagree gentlemen," Teatime spoke, breaking up the conversation his potential clients were having. "I could have been so much closer, but a mortal can only accomplish so much."
"Mr. Teatime, who said you were a mortal now?" The fourth specter asked, earning Teatime's gaze. "When we signed your certificate, we gave you what some might call, perks."
"Who would call them perks?" Teatime asked.
"We would call them perks," responded the first specter.
"Oh." Teatime looked over the certificate of un-death with scrutiny now. In fine print he could make out the words of "slightly immortal". "What does it mean that I am slightly, immortal."
"It means just that Mr. Teatime, you are impervious to death, but only slightly, just as the Hogfather, Death and other absurd individuals that roam this world are."
Teatime frowned at the answer, if it could be called that at all. "Well, what if I were to refuse this contract?"
"That, Mr. Teatime, would result in your termination," spoke the second specter. Teatime tilted his head ajar and nodded in acknowledgement. He could have that, and if these silky looking clients of his were able to retrieve him from Hell, they could just as easily return him to it, and Jonathan had no intention on returning to that awful place. He learned a great deal about the craft of death down there, but never could act on the teachings he received.
"And what may I ask, is my pay?" Teatime asked, lifting his gaze but not his head to the four things before him.
"Your pay, is your life, Mr. Teatime," touted the first specter. Teatime sighed at this response.
"NIL MORTIFI, SINE LVCRE," whispered Teatime.
"What was that?" Asked one of the specters.
"No killing without pay," replied another. "It's the motto of an assassin." They all began to nod and murmur amongst themselves by this point before looking back to what they previously regarded as property.
"Will you settle on salary? One thousand a week?" the second specter asked. The rate puzzled Teatime, but before he could inquire the auditors began to explain. "When Death is eliminated, someone will still be required to see off the souls of the deceased."
"Yes, Death is required on this world, but Death can be replaced."
Teatime found this new information to be both intriguing and frustrating. His employers were muddying his favorite pastime into a true labor. Death was his passion and livelyhood, but to be the one who had to clean up after other assassins, criminals and anything else that stopped life short? He had no intention on becoming a janitor of passed souls. But, he could always just neglect his duties if he didn't feel like doing them.
"Well gentlemen, where do I sign?"
Happy Hogswatch everyone. Feel free to comment and correct any mistakes I have made.