Andrew Retires
by JMK758
January 10, 2011
Case Supervisor Monica leans back against her classic red convertible and sighs out the tensions of her latest case. Her apprentices Celeste and Robert did a good job today and she will so note in her mission evaluation report - later. For now she just wants to rest, to take a break from seemingly never-ending duty. This incident in Arizona, a hate-filled shooting, six dead who Adam brought home while fourteen were wounded, has been a trying few days, both for the victims and an ever widening circles of loved ones.
She reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a gold pocket watch, a memento of other days when Tess - God bless her - had been Supervisor. She'd never appreciated fully how easy a time she had it, with Tess to lead them, Gloria, Rafael, dear Andrew... She pops open the watch cover, wondering how much time she has before the next assignment.
"Still keeping good time?" a voice from behind her says. She turns quickly, finding a familiar friend standing at the car's rear bumper.
"Andrew," she greets him happily. "I was just thinking about you." The glow of the Father shines from him, and she allows her own body to fade from mortal sight, the aura bright about both of them.
"Pleasant thoughts, I hope," he says, coming around to join her in leaning against the red car.
"Never any other kind," she assures him, "Yes, it keeps perfect time. And no, you're not getting it back," she says with a grin, making a show of putting the watch deep into her coat pocket.
"I'd never take back a gift," he assures her, not that she needs any. They have too many years of fond memories between them. "Besides, I have no use for it."
"Oh?"
He looks the same as always, not that that concept means much to them. She knows Tess remembers the creation of Earth, making her more than four billion (she'll never ask how much more) and she looks no older today than Monica ever knew her.
"You haven't been back in a while," Andrew says fondly, affectionately putting an arm about her shoulders and looking down at her.
"Except to file reports, no. Been too busy."
"Don't I know what that's like. But since we haven't seen one another in a while, I decided I'd come to you."
"Why?"
"To tell you I'm retiring." He sees he's surprised her. "At least as the Angel of Death. Angels don't retire retire, but this morning I escorted my last soul back home, Anna McKnight; wonderful woman, lived to see her great granddaughter. Now I turn in my 'uniform' and I'm on extended vacation."
"Vacation? Lucky you." She can barely remember her last sabbatical.
"Well, the Angel of Death doesn't get an actual vacation."
"I suppose not. How long has it been?"
"A hundred forty five years, eight months and twenty seven days."
She grins up at him. "Not that you're counting."
"No." He leans back further, getting more comfortable. "Still, it'll be good to get some time off."
"How much time?"
"I don't know. You know what we tell humans, 'live your life to the fullest, as though every day is your last day'. Well, I'm going to live my vacation as though every day is the last vacation day. I won't be coming back to Earth - maybe for a very long while - not until the Father tells me what He has in mind for me. That's why I wanted to come down and see you personally ... because I never know when you're coming back up," he tells her teasingly, putting his arm around her and pulling her into a hug.
"Won't be all that long, I promise." He releases her but she puts her own arm about his waist. "So, any guess what the Father has in mind for you?"
"Not a clue. All I know is it'll be interesting."
"It always is. And I'm sure you'll do just fine."
He steps away from the car, turns to face her. "See you in Heaven."
And Andrew, former Angel of Death, fades from her sight.
John Dye
Jan. 31, 1963
Jan. 10, 2011
May his soul find
the bliss he deserves.