The second time Kurt met Death was in the hospital.

"Are you here for my mommy?" Kurt sounded almost as old as Death, and if Death had a heart it would be breaking.

I AM.

"Will she be okay now?" Kurt hesitated, looking at the scythe in Death's hand. "Will she be okay now that she's with you? She won't- she won't hurt anymore?"

NOTHING WILL EVER HURT HER AGAIN. Death promised.

Kurt lower lip wobbled alarmingly. Death carefully unfolded a white pinky bone from the blackness of his cloak. It glittered under the harsh lights of the hospital. PINKY SWEAR.

Kurt silently accepted Death's pinky swear, the childish action made ceremonial by his solemness. Men had been buried with more pomp before, but Death had been to very few that made even him feel the weight of power and enchantment pressing against his bones.

YOU HAVE MAGIC IN YOU. Death observed.

"Of course I do." Kurt said. "Mommy always told me my voice was magic." Kurt's voice didn't waver, and Death felt unaccountably fond of this tiny boy's strength. Humans could be so resilient. Well, metaphorically. They tended to be unable to bounce back from things like getting crushed under pianos or falling off cliffs. He would know.

SHE WAS PROBABLY RIGHT.

"Mommies are always right." Kurt side-eyed him. "Didn't your mommy ever teach you that?"

I HAVE NO MOTHER.

Kurt clasped Death's finger bones, staring up at the eternally grinning skull. "I'm sorry." He lifted up his arms, and Death picked him up obediently. "Me neither, now." He kissed Death's cheekbone.

MOST PEOPLE ARE AFRAID OF ME YOU KNOW. Death remarked after he set Kurt back down. He was definitely not choked up. He was a skeleton; it was physically impossible. Death ignored the fact that technically, most of what he did (if not everything) was physically impossible. He and Physics had had rather a bad falling out long ago. Physics cheated at gin rummy.

"Why?"

BECAUSE I AM DEATH.

"Oh." Kurt turned this over in his head. "I thought it was 'cause you were a skellington."

THAT PROBABLY DOESN'T HELP. Death admitted.

"Do you have any family?" Kurt tried to imagine life without his Daddy. He hugged himself and stopped thinking about it.

I HAD A DAUGHTER ONCE, LONG AGO. SHE MARRIED MY APPRENTICE. THEY ARE BOTH DEAD NOW.

Kurt patted Death's knee consolingly. "I'm sorry." He wrinkled his nose. "Uhm, what's an uh-pren-tice." He sounded the word out carefully.

HE WOULD HAVE TAKEN UP MY MANTLE.

"He was going to steal your fireplace? Where would you put your picture frames?" Kurt looked extremely affronted on Death's behalf. Stealing was wrong, his mommy and daddy had taught him that after he tried to take the horrible tacky garden gnomes from Ms. Doozenblatt's lawn next door. Even if he was saving her from herself, they'd explained, it wasn't okay to steal.

ER, NO. I MEANT THAT HE WOULD BECOME DEATH AFTER ME.

"Would he have turned into a skellington too?" A thought occurred to Kurt. "Was your daughter a skellington? Is your wife a skellington?"

NO. AND I HAVE NO WIFE.

"Oh." Kurt looked at him sadly. He'd obviously decided that Death's wife must have died. Death decided not to correct him. Humans and their assumptions. It was really quite interesting. There was nothing Death did not know, and thus there was nothing for him to make assumptions about. "Do you miss them?"

Death considered it. I DON'T KNOW.

"How do you not know?"

IT IS A HUMAN THING, TO MISS. TO DESIRE WHAT YOU CANNOT HAVE.

"Are you not human?"

I AM DEATH.

"But you've got a human skellington." Kurt poked a protruding wrist bone suspiciously, like it might turn out to be made of marshmallows instead of bone. "Doesn't that mean you used to be human?"

MOST SKELETONS ARE SOMETHING THAT WAS, WHEREAS THIS IS WHAT I AM.

"Oh." Kurt considered this, and nodded decisively when it decided it seemed to make sense. Once again, Death marveled at this boy's magic. Most people tended to go through rather messier attempts at understanding Death. Usually there was more screaming. Which, really, Death found quite rude. It wasn't like he killed people.

Kurt pointed at the scythe. "Is that for me?"

EH? Death clutched the scythe protectively.

Kurt shrugged. "People keep giving me presents. They think if they give me enough stuff it'll help fill the hole in my life, that's what Aunty Anna said. I wasn't supposed to hear her, she thought I was sleeping." He looked down and carefully examined his socks. Death looked too. They were very nice socks. Lacy.

I SEE. Death tried to hide his scythe behind him. It didn't quite work. The scythe was very big, and Death didn't have a lot of body for it to hide behind. Kurt started to reach for it again.

ER, WOULD YOU LIKE TO RIDE BINKY INSTEAD?

"Binkies are for babies." Kurt said imperiously. "I'm eight, I'm not a baby."

BINKY IS MY HORSE. HE IS VERY GOOD WITH BABIES THOUGH.

"Oh. I didn't know babies could ride horses. Do you ride with many babies?"

VERY OFTEN.

Kurt pursed his lips as he thought. "Is that sad?" He asked. "My mommy said that it was especially sad when Mrs. Newberry's baby died 'cause babies had so much potato-shell."

POTENTIAL? Death hazarded a guess.

"That." Kurt nodded.

ALL HUMANS DIE WITHOUT FULFILLING THEIR POTENTIAL. Death said. POTENTIAL IS A VERY HUMAN THING. RATS DO NOT CURSE THE LOST TOES THEIR BROTHERS NEVER BIT, AND FLOWERS DO NOT MOURN THE SEEDS THEIR SISTERS WILL NEVER SOW. THE GREATEST MAN WILL BE EXPECTED TO HAVE BEEN BETTER, AND THUS HUMANS TURN THEIR KIN TO SAINTS FOR THE MIRACLE OF DYING.

Kurt turned that over in his mind. There was a lot there. Finally, he decided to address the most important aspect.

"So it's okay to pick flowers then, since their families don't mind?" He asked. Kurt had wondered about that since he first met Death. He knew he would have to leave flowers for his mother. It was what one did. He didn't want to have to feel guilty for it.

THEY CANNOT MIND, FOR THEY DO NOT HAVE ONE.

Kurt nodded. It made sense. Flowers didn't have any skulls.

Kurt considered the offer once more. But after a moment he shook his head. "My daddy needs me." He said solemnly. "I can't leave. I don't have time for binkies and kids stuff. I need to be grown up now."

I TAKE A GREAT MANY GROWN UPS ON BINKY.

Kurt looked back down at his socks, then back up at Death's scythe. "You'll be back, won't you?" He didn't look at Death's face, or what passed as it, "You'll come back, and then I'll ride Binky."

I WILL BE BACK. Death promised, for there was no escaping Death. He was always there for you in the end.

Kurt accepted the promise as his due. "I'll see you later," he said, and his words looped chains of magic around Death. Death examined them curiously. He had never been bound thus. Usually it was the other way around.

YOU WILL.

Kurt kissed his gleaming white cheekbone once more to seal their deal, and then went back to his father. Death watched him go. He should go see Susan; he was pretty sure her last Christmas postcard had come from a boarding school. Maybe she could tell him if all children were like this.

He ended up appearing in a crowded classroom during her lecture "The Dark Ages, No They Couldn't Just Turn On The Lights and No The Fuses Were Fine". She ended up using him as an example of the Bubonic Plague and gave an impromptu anatomy class, so Death counted it as excellent family bonding time.