IMPORTANT! Must read! This story (which is also an old one that has been on my computer for quite a long time now) is divided in two parts, and not because of length but because of… style? The first part is a short drabble that might be a bit … different. I like it. It's philosophic and has a twisted sense of humor and when I finished writing that it felt like the story was done, but I kinda wanted to know what would happen so I continued it. That is part 2. I wanted to separate them because part 2 lacks the same style and is more what I "usually" write, more… domestic sladin, you know? Not necessarily bad, but also nothing that will rock your world… 😉 So you only have to read part 2 if you happen to want some of that….

I have one more story in the works but not done, and that's from the Kitty litter universe. I might get to that soonish, but then I'm out of sladin for now… I still have a few weeks of vacation but then work and school starts up again. If you have ideas for stories/drabbles or something you wish for, you are welcome to leave those in a review. No promises, but if a plot bunny bites… especially if it's shorter drabble ideas…

A/N 2: this story mentions some canon stuff, but it's not timeline-correct, just wanted you to know that I know… ;)

A Conversation with Death part 1

Slade never expected Death to have blue eyes. He also never expected the creature to look quite a lot like the young hero that was presently running towards his body, yelling something over his shoulder towards his teammates.

Slade himself, or rather the conscious part of him, was looking down on that body. A rather… unsettling feeling. Slade wasn't floating. He wasn't the type to float. He simply existed a few meters above his still and bleeding form. His body was pierced by several sharp, blue crystals, which was normally not a problem, but one seemed to have ended up damaging his heart quite badly.

The entity next to him gazed down on his body rather expressionlessly, which made the man snort. The boy, or young man, looked over and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wanting an explanation for the derisive sound.

"I thought that when I died it would make a bit more of an impression," Slade told him dryly. "You act like you've seen it a million times before."

"A pierced heart? Not unusual," Death told him in Robin's voice. "But each death is special in its own way. Unique."

"Well, thanks." Slade's tone was still dry, sarcastic. He didn't quite know why he knew the Robin-look-alike was Death, he just did. And he accepted it. It was somewhat embarrassing to have been killed in a fight with teenagers, but at least it had been an accident of sorts. It was all a bit of a blur, but the crystals, he thought, had been conjured by the empath and then it had all exploded somehow. Slade had been falling. The man glanced up towards the top of the building. Quite a drop. The crystals had been falling after him and… well. Oops. Stupid way to die, really. He felt himself growing a bit more annoyed.

"Why do you look like him?" he asked Death, nodding at the young man that was now kneeling beside the body on the ground.

"I do? Curious."

"Explain." Slade had no patience for guessing games.

"I look different to everybody. Usually I look like a close deceased relative. You don't have any of those?"

"Plenty. But probably no one who would greet me on the other side."

"Ah. Well, that doesn't have to be true; it was you who chose what I would look like, after all. I'm sure there's some redemption for you."

"Do you know who I am?" Slade snorted again.

"I can see each moment in time," the young man, well Death, said a bit haughtily and then his eyes appeared to look away blindly in the distance for a moment. "Oh." he added.

"Oh, indeed."

"You have done good things in life, Slade Wilson, quite a few good things. You've killed, but also saved lives. Who knows how the scale will tip?"

"God?" Slade suggested.

"There is no god." The answer came offhandedly, like the boy was tired of saying that line.

Slade raised an eyebrow. He had never been very religious, less so when he became an adult, but the fact that he was dead and still here… well. He had figured he had been wrong.

"Then who will judge?"

"I told you. The scale."

"More information might be needed," the mercenary muttered.

"Not now. You will find out in time."

"You're not very helpful, are you?" Slade muttered.

"Aren't I?" Death asked, looking somewhat taken aback. The entity glanced down at Robin and Slade's body. The young man was looking for life signs, yelling orders. The sounds were strangely muffled, barely audible at all. "He must be special to you?"

"An enemy," Slade shrugged and was pierced anew, by blue eyes this time.

"No need to lie to Death," he was informed.

Slade looked away. It was hard to meet that glare. "He… might have meant more. Doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Hardly," Death said. "But it matters to him."

"He'll end up blaming himself somehow," Slade sighed. "He's an idiot like that. Takes too much responsibility for things. This is going to haunt him. I hope he'll get over it. I wouldn't want him to carry this with him to his deathbed." Sade made a sound like he thought the last notion was ridiculous, but Death got that faraway look in his eyes again.

"He does. We end up talking about you, actually. Oh. Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing. It's most likely wrong."

"What was?"

"Nothing."

"Great," Slade snorted. "What are we waiting for anyway? Shouldn't we get that weighing over with?"

"We're waiting for you to die."

"What? I'm already dead!" the man exclaimed. "Aren't I?" he added almost suspiciously, peering down at his body.

"You should be. But you have healing powers, don't you?"

"Not strong enough for that, I shouldn't think," Slade muttered, nodding towards his mangled body.

"I wouldn't think so either. I was called, after all."

"There isn't some way out of this? A price? A game of chess?"

The boy now smiled at him, almost chuckling. "So typical for this world," he said, shaking his head. "It's always some type of game."

"This world? Are you the death of others too?"

"Of all of them."

"Of everything?"

"No. Only for those creatures who has thought up an image of me."

"We created you?"

"I don't think so. More… connected to me."

"So… here on earth you come for humans?"

"And elephants."

"Really?"

"Yes. For some reason they have an image of me. The apes know me, but don't have a name for me."

"But elephants do? Elephants?" Slade was as close to dumbfounded as he had ever been his whole adult life.

"Yes. To them I'm Journey."

"That can't be easy to portray," the mercenary muttered and got a soft, amused smile in return. "I have shot elephants. Long time ago, before we understood the damage we were doing. Rather regret that now."

"Something the scale will probably take into consideration."

"Don't feel much remorse for most of the people I killed, though."

"The scale will consider that as well, I'm sure."

"What about everything else, then? All the other animals?"

Death shrugged. "There are probably others like me. Other guides. Or, they find their way naturally. Humans tend to complicate things. To argue. Most other beings just know."

"What is that boy doing?" Slade asked himself aloud as to avert attention from himself, as his mind already spun a bit and he didn't want to seem fazed.

"Crying, it seems. He cares for you."

"He cares for everyone."

"You were special. He wanted to save you."

"He was too far away."

"Not like that."

"Oh."

"He didn't know how, he didn't think you'd let him."

"He was probably right. Oh, he's pulling the shard out of my heart. Lovely. This is it then, I'm going to die for sure now."

They both waited. Slade wasn't sure for what, or if he would feel something when the body below him finally gave up. He was a bit impatient. It wasn't like he was looking forward to getting judged, no one had the right to judge him, least of all some kind of kitchen appliance, but he couldn't hang around here forever either.

"You must be busy with all the deaths. Sure you don't want to skip mine and save some time?" he asked the being.

"Time doesn't exist for me. I just go where the connection takes me. One after the other."

"I just realized you must have been present each time I killed someone."

"I was or I will be. Like I said, time doesn't exist for me."

"Were you there when my boy died? Grant?"

"Yes."

"Damn. Wanted you to tell him I was sorry."

"No personal messages. He made his own choices, he knew that. We watched you come to him. He understood."

Slade didn't reply. He couldn't.

"Grant thought you were stupid, though," he was told. "The revenge you swore on the Titans. He never wanted that. He didn't need it."

"I thought 'no personal messages'?" Slade grunted.

"Won't matter now."

"Am I dead yet? I'm sorry, but I'm getting bored," the man muttered, feeling a bit childish. He watched Robin press his bare hands to his open wound, trying to stop the blood. He saw the empath reach out with her magic and- suddenly- a jolt. A tug, somewhere on the edge of his consciousness.

"Impossible," Death breathed.

"What is happening?"

"I'm not sure," the entity answered, staring down at the scene intently.

"Ugh!" Slade felt another tug, stronger this time.

"They are bringing you back. With the shard gone you heart is starting to heal itself. With the magic… it seems to be working."

"I'm… going to live?" Slade asked. "Or," his eye narrowed, "Are you going to stop them?"

"I'm not a killer," Death chuckled. "Only an observer and a guide. You still have a choice, though. Your life is hanging by a very thin thread and going back… there will be pain. Lots of it."

"I can handle pain," Slade snorted.

"There will also be him. Can you handle him as well?" The tone was teasing but had an edge of seriousness to it.

The mercenary looked down on the scene and chuckled. "I might have to learn to." The man looked at the creature. "If I go back… how long will we have? A year? Five? Ten? Fifty?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Why? Who makes up those rules of yours? What would happen if you break them?"

Death looked him in the eye, his gaze serious and honest. "I made the rules. Because I didn't use to have any, and… It hurt the beings I was trying to guide. Some even refused to go with me and… were lost."

"Ghosts?" Slade asked incredulously, finding the concept hard to accept but also an explanation.

"In a way, I assume," Death shrugged. "So no. I won't tell you if you get one day or eighty years."

"I'm not asking for a specific date," Slade said, shuddering a bit at the thought. "I merely wanted to know if we'd have any time at all."

The being smiled a little, his eyes far away again for a moment. "I don't know why you have such power over me, Slade Wilson, but as you wish… I can tell you that you will both live on this earth for some time to come, but what you do with that time… that's up to you."

"It always is. That boy… Robin… he's…" Slade hesitated, "worth most of the trouble he causes," he finished with a chuckle.

"Then go back. This is curious, though."

"I'm guessing this doesn't happen a lot?"

"You're the first."

"Healing powers and magic healing can't be that rare?"

"No. I'm usually not called until there is no hope left at all. It's… strange."

"I should be thankful then, I guess," the man said.

"Yes. Your hope is right down there. Don't waste it," Death told him, almost firmly.

"Life coaching advice from Death. That's new," the man snorted.

"Who knows life better than I do?" the creature smirked.

"You got me there. So… how do I go back?" Slade asked, feeling another tug.

"Since I've never actually seen this before…" Death told him, looking uncertain. "But follow the pull. That's what I'd do."

Slade nodded curtly and closed his eye. He might have no idea how to do this but that was not reason enough not to try. Or succeed. A moment later his world was consumed by pain and noise. He drew a gasp of air, some of it blood.

"He's alive! He's conscious!" Robin's voice. "Stay with us, Slade! Don't you dare die!"

Slade coughed up some of the blood that had started to congeal in his airways. "Fine," he grunted and passed out.

The end of part one.