Author's Notes: I think that there are only going to be two more solid chapters and this story will be DONE. However, my twisted mind has come up with an interesting premise for a sequel, so if people were interested you might see that pop up at some point after this is completed. Also, Lobsang shows up here, and I've never, ever read him, so I apologize if he's terribly out of character. I hope you all enjoy this chapter—thank you so much for reading.
Death is back, the Rules are met, and Susan gets grouchy again.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Discworld, never have, never will—I just wish I owned a copy of all the books.
Chapter Eleven
Coming to Terms with Reality
Susan was trying very hard to keep a foolish grin off her face. Her lips just kept turning upwards and she couldn't stop them, not matter how hard she tried. It was infuriating.
That wasn't the only thing going through her mind, though:
I'm so happy! I'm so happy! I'm so happy!
What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me?
Teatime just kissed me. Teatime just kissed me! TEATIME JUST KISSED ME! (whether this thought was ecstatic, infuriated, or simply shocked is up for debate)
Mixed emotions were attached with each individual idea, and she was feeling very confused. Still, presiding over all the confusion, all of her scrambled thoughts, she had never been so darn happy.
That only confused her even more.
*
Teatime waited until Susan's footsteps were no longer in ear shot, and made his way to the window. Just because he didn't want Death seeing him didn't mean that he wasn't going to watch. He could wait, and he could be patient when he had to, but when there was something more interesting to do (such as watching the utter confusion on the roof and Susan coming to whip 'em into shape—that would be a spectacle) of course he wouldn't sit and do nothing. Waiting could be so boring.
Gliding up with the grace of a cat, he peered over the crenulations to see the goings on before him. No Susan yet; just fifty-some people all talking at once. How disappointing.
Susan... such a sensible, strong, name. Sensible Susan. He loved that about her—how practical she was. And then that short temper of hers. She was so silly when she was angry.
Thank goodness Susan can't read my thoughts, he thought wryly, she'd kill me. Again.
He also particularly loved the way she smiled, because the rare times she did it felt like it was just for him. A smile, small and sweet, for Jonathon Teatime. Who ever smiled for him save her?
The answer, of course, was her.
*
Death was a little confused. First he had been at the masquerade, with Persephone, Susan, and that crazed assassin, under attack by some scarlet-clad men, and then he was here, on the top of a keep.
I MUST HAVE DISAPPEARED AGAIN... he thought thoughtfully.
"Death!" a woman with dark, purply-red hair called as she ran up to him.
UM... PERSEPHONE? he asked in surprise, recognizing her friendly smile.
"Do you have any idea how we got here? Last thing I remember, I was with Susan and Mr. Teatime, trying to wake up a wizard to reverse the spell-gone-awry that has caused things to disappear, and then I was here..." she hesitated, "I also have this vague feeling of being short, and all these shapes sailing by, and this urge to find food..." she shook her head, brushing the thought aside. "Silly, isn't it?"
DID YOU SAY SUSAN AND MR. TEATIME?!
"Yes...?"
IS SHE ALRIGHT?!
"Thanks to that assassin, believe it or not. He rescued her from the dungeon down there before I could make it."
WHY?
"Um... I'm assuming so she wouldn't be in a jail for the rest of her life?" she guessed curiously, a little confused. All these people she'd been dealing with really were very odd. Then again, who could expect an assassin with one eye, Death and Death's granddaughter TO be normal?
TEATIME RESCUED SUSAN, it was half a question, half a statement, and half an 'I'm trying to come to terms with this are you sure I didn't mishear you' remark. If something could have three halves.
"Yes."
AND HE HAD NO ULTERIOR MOTIVE. Copy and paste from above, please.
She shrugged.
"I really don't know. You'd have to ask him."
THIS IS MOST CERTAINLY STRANGE...
"Um, excuse me, Death, but I have a few questions..."
WHAT? ARE YOU A JOURNALIST OR SOMETHING? he asked, attempting to make a joke in human fashion, rather proud at how it came out.
If only he knew.
"Well—"
"Granddad!" Susan called happily, coming from the stairs that had led upwards and running towards her grandfather. "Granddad, I'm so glad your alright!"
Death would have blinked if he had had eyelids.
EXCUSE ME?
"I'm so glad you're alright."
UM... I'M GLAD YOU'RE ALRIGHT, TOO. WHAT HAPPENED?
Susan quickly explained the story behind the spell.
"...and we've finally managed to reverse it."
WE?
Susan stiffened. She had promised not to mention Teatime to Death... outright, at least...
"Persphone and I."
"What about—" the journalist started.
"Persphone and I," Susan repeated firmly. "She turned into a peacock before we finished, though. And the wizard. Timothy Ortan helped as well."
"A peacock!?"
WHAT ABOUT MR. TEATIME?
"Um... he helped."
WHERE IS HE NOW?
Susan blinked slowly.
"Why do you ask?" she stalled.
I MUST COLLECT HIM.
Susan considered arguing that since the assassin's death had been indirectly caused by the Auditors of Reality breaking the Rules, and that all things caused by that Rule breaking should be reversed, then Teatime should be revived, but decided that reasoning on the his behalf would appear... odd, and she wasn't quite ready for that stage yet.
"But he isn't dead. He's perfectly alive," she tried stiffly.
LAST TIME I CHECKED, HE HAD A POKER GOING THROUGH HIM.
"A poker—!?" the peacock called in astonishment.
"You're a bit out of date."
HOW SO?
"Um... well, he became teatime—" Susan started.
EXCUSE ME?
"I kept calling him 'teatime' so he became a second teatime for a short amount of time. When he reappeared he was alive."
"That's not right," a new voice said. Several heads snapped in that direction to see a woman with her hair in a tight, high bun, a turned up (both biologically and of conscious choice) nose, a black parasol and a gray, proper dress. "He should have returned to his ghost state after his re-physicallization by decree of rule three-hundred-forty-three point six six."
AND WHO ARE YOU?
"I'm the Rules," she answered properly.
"What?" Susan asked, not quite sure if she'd heard her right.
"I am the anthropomorphic personification of the Rules. My name is Ruth."
I DON'T BELIEVE I'VE HEARD OF YOU, MISS RUTH.
"I hadn't existed until a few moments ago. You see, you were death, not Death, and Time was time, not Time, and I was the mere mention of the Rules, not an actual personification. When the spell fixed you all, the governing force of the universe experienced a glitch and accidentally created me. And I intend to correct that," she added, "I very much do, but first I must correct all the other aberrations and rule breakages before I do away with myself. It is my duty, as the Rules."
Susan, Death, and a very confused journalist all exchanged a worried glance. This really didn't look good.
*
Isn't that sweet of her? Teatime thought idly. He could read Susan well, and, in her own way, she was trying to protect him. She didn't even tell Death where he was right off the bat.
Then there was this Ruth. He'd have to avoid her now, too, wouldn't he? Or she'd make him a ghost again. It was so nice having a physical form once more—he had no intentions of losing it. Teatime took in a long, deep sigh. This was just lovely.
About then a young man came up to Susan with a confused expression plastered to his face.
"Lobsang?" she asked in a friendly (by Susan standards) voice.
"Hi, Susan. It's good to see you again... Where am I exactly?"
There were so many people on the roof, talking all at once. It was no surprise it'd taken him so long to find her. But Teatime wasn't thinking about that. Right at the moment, he had these specific thoughts going through his head:
A. I wish he'd found her sooner so this would be over with.
B. I wish he'd find her later so I wouldn't have to watch this now.
C. I wish he wouldn't find her at all!
Unfortunately, wishing doesn't do much good.
"This... this is Mordred's keep," Susan said. "I'll explain everything to you eventually, but not now... I've just gotten through doing so with my grandfather, and I have a bit of a headache. It's been a very, very confusing day."
The assassin hoped it'd been a good day, too.
"I understand," Lobsang answered, nodding with great empathy.
EXCUSE ME, SUSAN, Death said. BUT REGARDING MR. TEATIME...
"Right. Um, well, he had a body when he reappeared. He rescued me from a dungeon and offered to help me with the spell."
"Susan?" Lobsang asked in confusion, "Are you talking about that assassin you told me about from Hogswatch—"
"No, no, no!" Ruth called in agitation. "That simply can't be right; rule three-hundred-forty-three point—"
"If one of you could possibly explain to me what you're talking about—" the journalist started.
SUSAN, WE REALLY MUST SPEAK MORE OF—
The schoolteacher was just about to scream EVERYBODY SHUT UP! in her Voice, but a whole brigade of armed men (in scarlet) came up the steps leading to the roof and that pretty much did the trick. Unfortunately, after a short spurt of silence, screaming ensued.
Susan wasn't one of the screamers, though. She was only standing in confusion on the edge of the roof, between two of the crenulations—coincidentally, also directly above Teatime, who was at that very moment observing all the men gathering people together like sheep dogs. Lobsang raised his hand to stop time, and looked fairly shocked when nothing happened.
Teatime, realizing that things weren't looking so good, grabbed Susan's ankle and pulled her over the edge. It would be difficult, he knew, but he could do it—he was certain. So, while the schoolteacher was in mid fall, he slide through the window, turned, grabbed her waist and set her on her feet in the stone room before she had time to scream. His timing was faster than it needed to be, and he felt rather pleased with himself as she tried to get oriented once more.
"What just happened?" she called in confusion and (mostly because she was in confusion) anger, still trying to catch her breath.
He cocked his head thoughtfully, a little surprised she couldn't figure it out.
"I pulled you down."
"You could have warned me!"
"Susan, if you had heard my voice, or felt a tap on your ankle, what is the first thing you would have done?"
"I would have looked down towards—"
"Exactly. I was hoping to be... discrete. You, Susan, can stand out even better than you can blend in at times."
Susan huffed and crossed her arms in agitation.
"So you weren't able to stop them?" he asked.
"You expected that I could? They came out of nowhere—"
"You did know they were coming, didn't you?" the assassin asked in surprise.
"Um, no."
"Susan!" he called, "I'm so terribly... disappointed."
"Why don't you just cut to the chase, Teatime?" she growled.
He raised his brows, then continued.
"The wizard. I couldn't kill him because of your rule, so of course he told Mordred all about us and the people on the roof. I assumed you'd assume the same thing."
"WHY would I have let him go if I'd assumed that?"
"Because that's what you do. You don't hurt people who could turn against you, who could cause you trouble."
"From my recollection I hurt you pretty bad," she said grouchily.
"Potential dangers. You take care of those that have already shown themselves, but you ignore the potentials. I've never understood it—and it's not just you. So many people do that, it's a wonder man kind hasn't killed itself off yet."
"It's called 'the benefit of the doubt'," (technically, 'the benefit of the doubt' refers to people possibly being innocent after a wrong has been committed, but the schoolteacher felt the phrase rang true here as well). "Just because someone might betray you is no reason to hurt..." her eyes flicked left and right for half a second, "...or kill them, Teatime."
He was behind her, cold knife at her throat and below his face.
"Teh-ah-tim-eh," he said in her ear ever so softly, yet somehow each syllable felt like a crack of thunder. "You and I have rules, Susan. I've been good enough not to break them; why don't you?"
He lowered the blade and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"Now what?" he asked curiously, any darkness or intimidation absent from his voice and replaced with his usual light cheer. "I suppose you'll want to rescue them?"
Susan blinked. He could be so confusing sometimes. She stepped away from him, letting his chin slide off her shoulder, and turned towards him as she thought of a response.
"Yes," she settled with (her creative side was a little slow at the moment). "Where do you think they'll have taken them?"
"There were so very many..." the assassin said thoughtfully, black and white eyes gazing at nothing in particular (still gazing, never the less). He glanced up at Susan and took a step towards her. "I assume either the throne room for questioning or the dungeon," he paused, looking her up and down curiously, "You look so stiff."
"Perhaps I do."
"Are you thinking about how I kissed you?"
"I don't see how that's relevant at the moment."
"Do you regret it?"
"Please, can we focus, Jonathon?"
"You do, don't you? And you're afraid of me. You think I'd actually hurt you."
"I'm not afraid of you," she said darkly.
He cocked his head thoughtfully.
"You probably should be," he sighed. "I could kill you before you could blink, if I wanted to."
"I don't think that's true."
The slightest trace of a smile crossed his lips.
"You always did deny what you couldn't control..." he cocked his head thoughtfully, "maybe you should try believing in something for a change."
"I don't see why we're having this conversation. Please, can we stay on topic?"
"I thought this was the topic."
"The topic was trying to rescue my grandfather and—"
"Lobsang," the name came out sounding sour, "and the others, whosoever they may be." He paused, chewing on the thought, then perked up. "Well, then—this should be fun."
He's not even being sarcastic, Susan thought disbelievingly.
"Don't you think so, Susan?"
*
Death's powers weren't working. He couldn't fade, or go through walls, or anything, as a matter of fact, and it was getting on his nerves. If he had any, that is. So it was that the lord of the end of all things found himself being held captive by brief mortals along with a lot of other brief mortals. If he spoke in such language, he probably would have thought 'You've got to be kidding me' in big, more-capital-than-usual letters. But Death doesn't think in such a way.
Currently, he was trying to come to sorts with the fact that Susan had just fallen over the edge of the roof and survived. He could sense she was alive, and just below him, but he was having trouble figuring out how she got through the window mid-fall. It was most confusing. He'd already told the others she was alright, and they were finding it just as confusing as he was. Not to mention that his sense of where Susan was was slowly, slowly fading until he couldn't tell where anyone was anymore.
"Do you think you could answer some of those questions, now?" Perephone asked quietly. Why she was wondering about questions when everyone was being herded down a long hall who-knows-where was a mystery to him.
UM, COULD THAT WAIT FOR A BETTER TIME?
"I'm not sure if there's going to be a better time..." she responded sardonically. "Why didn't you tell me you were Death before?"
PERSEPHONE, I'M NOT SURE IF I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.
"Susan told me—be it indirectly. I know."
OH, Death thought, realizing she wasn't referring to his 'costume'. In the slightest. THIS IS MOST AWKWARD. I APOLOGIZE.
"No need to," she replied, smiling. "But, if we could get to those questions—"
ARE YOU A JOURNALIST? He really was beginning to wonder.
She sighed.
"...Yes."
OH, DEAR.
" 'Oh dear' indeed," Lobsang grumbled.
"Quiet up there!" one of the guards at the back of the line called (a third were in the front and two thirds in the back, sandwiching the group together so none could escape). Persephone, Lobsang and Death let out a long sigh.
Ruth had been silent the whole time, nose in the air, as her little umbrella circled properly. She had a terribly pompous air to her, and probably would have gotten on some of their nerves if anyone had been paying any attention to her.
*
He was just staring at her. His conversation, his suggestions, his input and words were the same as ever, but he wouldn't stop staring. His black and white eyes were like knives of their own, piercing and chilling her.
They were sitting across from one another and attempting to come up with a plan of sorts, but Teatime mentioned that they had to figure out if they were in the dungeons or not before they could actually act. Susan had reluctantly noticed the logic of his reasoning, and they had continued with that train of thought. As apparently Mordred didn't post guards at the dungeon, it seemed there would be the most logical place to check first. Then they could come up with a plan with their help if they were there, and if not, they had lost nothing.
Susan tried her best to be practical and senseable, but she was having a hard time thinking straight with that terrible cold gaze of his boring into her.
"Are you alright, Susan?" he asked curiously in his odd, high voice, noticing her shift uncomfortably.
"There you go again," she said stiffly.
"What do you mean?"
"You're getting off topic again."
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"When we're trying to save living, breathing, people, yes."
Teatime sighed gently. He wasn't exactly sure when he had realized that he actually felt something for Susan. He'd thought about dismissing the feeling, throwing it away so he could think clearly, but it felt so nice he simply couldn't bare to. And then there was that one moment when she'd let him kiss her. He had never felt so completely marvelous.
Somehow, for some reason, with Susan he felt whole. She didn't complete him like his Marly had; no, his sister had been his other half, like a board broken in two that was pieced back together. Susan was that random piece of a puzzle that actually fits with another piece even though it shouldn't, and formed a completely different picture than the one the puzzle should create.
Still, however she did it, Susan completed him, and made him feel wonderful. But did he make her feel wonderful? He'd thought he had. She had seemed so happy then; why now so cold? Did she regret it? He'd asked her, but hadn't gotten a direct answer. If she regretted it... if she did he would be broken.
No, that most certainly wouldn't do.
"I don't see why that can't wait," he said.
"Did you hear me?—people are in danger. That's why."
"You certainly care a lot about people you don't know."
"Most people with common decency do. But at the moment, I'm worried about my grandfather, and—"
"Please, don't list them off. I remember; I only meant in general."
"Topic, Teatime. Please, let's get back on it."
"They can wait a few minutes."
"Will you ever stop bugging me about this?"
"When we talk."
She sighed in exasperation and leaned against the stone wall behind her.
"Would you do it again?" he asked, sliding towards her curiously.
"Do what?"
"Kiss me."
"From my memory you kissed me," she answered grouchily, somehow finding the ceiling very, very interesting.
"You kissed me back." He waited, but she didn't reply. "You haven't answered my question, Susan. ...Susan?"
She raised her head and gazed at him steadily, shaking her head in exasperation.
"You can be a real pain, Jonathon," she moaned.
Teatime shifted beside her. She didn't even flinch as he appeared. The assassin stared intently at the side of her face for a few seconds, his face very thoughtful. "Why are you so mad at me, Susan?" he asked in innocent confusion.
"I don't know what you're talking—"
He leaned forwards, lips less than an inch from her ear.
"Suuuuuuuuuu-saaaaaaaan..." he sang softly.
Little chills went down her spine as Susan skewed her eyes shut and braced herself to keep from shivering. She really wished he would stop doing that (on hindsight, she probably should have put that in their rules). Somehow, though, the feeling was strangely exhilarating—that was probably what she hated most of all.
"Do you care to continue?" he asked gently.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and took in a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze as he slowly leaned away.
"I'm worried, Jonathon," she at last. "I'm worried for Lobsang, and that journalist, and for myself and for you. I'm worried, and you don't seem to care."
"Of course I care," he sounded surprised. "That's why I've been trying to talk to you."
"I just want everyone to be safe and to get this over with. It's impossible when you keep doing that. I want to be done and you won't focus and—"
"Oh, Susan, that's where you're going wrong," he said, shaking his head slightly.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
"You'll never be done. Never. When you're finished, something new will pop up and you'll have to start again. Life is one big, sometimes boring adventure, and it never ends until you die. And if you want to be done, you might as well jump out that window right now," he paused, "but please don't," he added, a little worried.
Susan raised a brow.
"That doesn't mean I can't try."
"Or you could make the adventure the fun part. You have to learn to love the ride, because you'll never get off, Susan."
"Love the ride, eh?" she shook her head. "I'm getting an inspirational speech from a crazed—not to mention should-be-dead—assassin. What is the disc coming to?"
He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek, sliding his hand into hers as he pulled her to her feet effortlessly.
"Come on, Susan, let's go. I don't think planning any more is going to help us much—but please, get out of this sour mood... won't you? I really want to kiss you again and I'm afraid if I do when you're like this you'll hit me."
"You could dodge it easily," she pointed out as they made their way to the door.
"Yes, but then you'd get oh so angry."
"Mmhmm, that would be a side affect."
"How can I solve this puzzle, then?" he asked curiously.
Susan appeared to be thoughtful as they approached the dungeons.
"Well, there really seems to be only one solution," she said at last, nodding. "I'll have to kiss you."
"Right now?"
"How about after we save everyone? It'll give you something to look forwards to."
Teatime doubled his pace, practically dragging the schoolteacher along with him.
