It Was No Dream

It was early, far too early for Rudgar's liking, but he simply stifled a yawn as he walked to his small office to retrieve the day's assignments. He took a deep puff from his cigarette and exhaled deeply so that the grayish smoke created something of a mock halo about his head, but he didn't feel saintly or even redeemed. He simply felt tired. Wordlessly, he opened the door to his office and took his first shuffling step inside.

"Good morning, Rudar!" Sascha cheerfully greeted. The small reaper had perched himself on his desk and was sitting there with his short legs kicking happily over the side. A carefree smile was painted on his cheerful face as his large eyes sparkled with happiness.

"Mornin'," Rudgar managed, shutting the door behind him and walking over to his desk. Although he wouldn't have said anything to upset his young partner, he couldn't help but think it should be illegal to be so bubbly this early in the day. "Have you already looked over the assignments?"

Sascha nodded, his brown hair dancing about his face as he did. "We don't have to go out until later," he answered, "but then, there's going to be a real bloody mess! Someone's going to get by this train and it's going to drag him all the way down the tracks. There's even a note in there it's going to be tough finding a big enough chunk of him to even extract his records." He was obviously excited at the prospect, and clasped his hands in front of his face like a small child eyeing his presents on Christmas morning.

Rudgar snorted slightly and sat down behind his desk. "You're a weird one," he mumbled, but he smiled. Weird or not, he rather liked his tiny partner and had grown used to his morbid streak over the years. If he was being entirely honest with himself, being morbid wasn't all that odd for a reaper considering the way they had to deal with death. At least it had helped Sascha retain his sanity, which was something far too many of their kind lost over time. "I'll never understand how you stay so happy."

Sascha jumped down from his desk. "I've told you that I just like doing this," he said, "and I love working with you. Do you want some coffee?"

Rudgar nodded. "Black," he said, but then paused as he thought about what Sascha had said. "Why do you love working with me so much?"

"Because we're friends," Sascha said, "and I never had many of those." He started for the door, but paused as his small hand graced the doorknob and his face grew serious for a brief moment. "Besides, this is all like a dream," he added, "In fact, I did dream of you once, when I was young. I don't remember much of the dream, but I remember seeing your face." He shrugged and walked out of the office without apparently noticing Rudgar's surprised expression.

Ashes fell on to his desk, but Rudgar barely noticed as he stared unseeingly as the door where Sascha had just exited. A memory began to play in his mind as if his own record had gotten stuck in a loop, and he couldn't stop the images from rising to the surface. "A dream, huh?" he mumbled to himself before slumping to his chair and allowing his mind to travel back in time.

((x))

The small house was tilted and appeared to be ready to collapse under its own weight. Huge holes had been broken in the wood so that the wind and rats would wriggle through without any real effort, and the porch groaned in the wind. It barely looked habitable for an animal, but Rudgar already knew that people actually lived here.

And they had a small child.

The reaper lit another cigarette as he stared down at the house from a barren, twisted tree. There was actually no real point to him smoking since he no longer had the addiction, but he had smoked all his life and felt someone naked if he didn't have a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Besides, it was really the only bad habit he allowed himself, and everyone should be allowed at least one vice.

The slate covered clouds overhead grumbled and threatened, but no rain was falling as Rudgar watched a woman leave the house. She was quite thing so that her clothes flowed about her form like a flag, and there was an unhealthy gray tint to her skin. Her eyes only had a tiny spark of life and personality as she glanced about uncertainly, and it looked as if she could collapse at any moment, but she was not the one that Rudgar had come here to collect. With a few more nervous glances, she stepped off the porch and started down a rock path towards a neighbor's house.

It was time.

Rudgar hated this even though he tried to think of this as just another assignment. With a loud sigh, he jumped and landed deftly on the porch. Although he had landed heavily, he made no sound and he felt that no one could not see him. His cloak was in effect as he stepped inside the house, but even he almost winced from the gloom.

Although dark, the house was mostly clean and it was obvious that the woman had tried to make this a home. Tattered curtains hung from the windows, and there was some order to the sparse belongings. The only exception was a large man that sat solidly in a soiled chair in the center of the room. He seemed out of place as he only sat there with the stench rising steadily from his filthy body as he brought another beer to his lips to slurp loudly at the contents. Bowls of half-eaten, moldy food surrounded the chair and added to the smell. Some people would be quick to blame the woman, but Rudgar had observed her trying to clean. Whenever she stepped near this man, her husband, he would yell and strike out. She had learned to keep her distance with the hope she didn't draw his attention.

Rudgar's destination, however, was the sagging, ancient crib which set in the back of the room. It was obvious that it had been placed at the farthest distance from the man. The child inside the crib was tiny, even for his young age, and there was no toys around him. His diaper was freshly changed, and the child was clean. It was evident that his mother was doing her best to care for the child, although he still whimpered and cried.

He was too young to stand, but he leaned against the bars of his crib from a sitting position. "I hungry!" he cried, "Momma! I hungry!"

Rudgar was a bit taken aback. He wouldn't have thought the child old enough to speak so clearly. Again to his records, this boy was only 5 months old, but he was speaking in clear, rudimentary sentences. The father didn't seem to share this amazement as he suddenly began to shout.

"SHUT UP!" roared the man. He began to curse between mouthfuls of alcohol.

The boy whimpered again, but the pain in his gut seemed to be too much for him to bear. "Hungry," he cried again, "Where food at?"

Even before the man erupted from his chair, Rudgar knew that the moment had finally arrived. The man was going to shake and kill his own son in this drunken rage. Rudgar had been watching for a bit, and the man didn't understand his obviously bright son, and his confusion only turned to anger in his inebriated brain. For the first time since becoming a reaper, Rudgar turned away. He didn't want to watch, although he wished he could avoid listening at the child's dying cries.

The man didn't seem to even realize what he had done as he trudged back to his chair and sat down. Rudgar hated that creature that called himself a man as he turned and walked over to the crib. The child's dying gasps were becoming less infrequent, but Rudgar waited. Typically, there was little reason to look at so young of boy's records since there was so little to be seen.

The door opened and Rudgar turned to see that the mother had returned. She seemed to realize something was wrong as she glanced briefly at her husband before running back to the crib. Crying, she reached in grabbed her son in her arms, as she turned and glared at the man.

"What did you do to him?" she yelled.

The man only mumbled his response as he rubbed his temples, but Rudgar watched as the weak woman seemed to gains strength from her dying son.

"What did you do?" she cried again, and then dropped to her knees. To Rudgar's surprise she seemed to start praying. "Oh, please, give me back my son," she whispered, rocking back and forth, "I'll protect him. I'll take him away from here. Just give him back."

Rudgar's job had been so clear. He was supposed to collect this child's records and nothing more, but now he faltered. This boy was smart and, if the mother truly protected him, he might do great things if allowed to live. Trying not to think too much about the consequences, he pulled out a stamp and marked his to-die list.

Immediately the boy coughed and began to move. Upper Management would check over his request to give the child a second chance, but the boy would be allowed to live until then. There was a strong chance that they would trust his opinion and let him live until his time to die came once again.

"Live long, Sascha," Rudgar whispered.

To his surprise, Sascha opened his eyes and looked directly at him. Sometimes, young children could see reapers, but it was still a bit disconcerting when they looked eyes. Somehow, Rudgar managed a smile before creating a portal and leaving the dilapidated house. He never even thought that he might see Sascha again.

((x))

"Here's your coffee," Sascha announced in a singsong voice as he placed the cup on Rudgar's desk, "Do you need anything else?"

"No," Rudar replied, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Smiling, Sascha took seat behind his desk, and Rudgar couldn't help but notice how tiny he looked.

His request to give Sascha a second chance had been approved, but Rudgar had known even then that it would go against his record if his instincts proved wrong. Unfortunately for all, Sascha's life hadn't improved after that and, after he became a Shinigami, Rudgar had been told that his mistake would add years to his own sentence. He had taken the news calmly since he had never really thought about the length of his supposed sentence. Despite everything, he known he had done the right thing. If he hadn't given Sascha a second chance, they wouldn't have had a chance to work together.

"It wasn't a dream," Rudgar mumbled to himself.

"What?" Sascha asked, looking up. He had been doodling something in the diary he liked to carry with him at all times.

"Nothing," Rudgar said, "Let's go ahead and get started. It's going to be a long day, and I want to get home at a reasonable time tonight.

Smiling, Sascha jumped up from his seat and hurried toward the door as Rudgar followed behind his young partner. None of this was a dream, but they would face this reality, grim or otherwise, as best that they could.