Chapter 8:

September 1912

Out of all the Moon's Guardians, Sanderson was the one Death tolerated the best.

Death could admit that that was in part true because the Sandman was so quiet; the other three possessed the ability to keep up a constant stream of inane chatter, even when alone (although Bunnymund would likely die of embarrassment if he learned anyone knew he often talked to his eggs as he painted them).

Sanderson was also more observant; his job was a bit more involved than those of the other Guardians and he didn't have helpers to assist him as Toothiana did. Death did not doubt that Sanderson understood his young charges far better than his fellows.

It was also interesting to note a few similarities in their powers, though Death was not certain the Sandman would appreciate the parallels should he learn of them. Humans often referred to death as "the final rest" or "eternal sleep". The process of dying, at least in the biological sense, was very much like falling asleep though the end result was a bit more permanent and, depending on the circumstances, could be considerably more painful. And happiness was rarely something Death provided.

He found himself musing idly on these things as he passed-literally- through the door of a small house in Twin Falls, Idaho, rivers of the Sandman's golden sand shining brightly in the night sky above.

One of the streams of sand was making its way into the house Death had entered; the glow was visible from the hallway even with the door closed, but Death paid it no mind. He could sense the child's soul, warm and bright, content in the dream-sand induced sleep, but that was not what concerned him tonight. He walked on to a door at the far end of the hall, which stood ajar. The sound of someone pacing over a carpeted floor was just barely audible.

Death paused, listening. The steps were unsteady and heavier than they should be. The man's thoughts were slowly becoming clearer to him despite the fact that he'd made no attempt to read them, a sure sign that the man did not have long.

Adam Coleman, age 34, was a fairly successful tax accountant who had recently been employed by an up-and-coming wealth management firm. He'd married his girlfriend of four years, Catherine Greene, at age 27. A son was born two years later and the family had moved into this house when the child was just over five months old.

It was around that time that a malignant tumor was discovered in the right-hand side of Adam's brain.

Various treatments had kept the cancer at bay, but the tumor had grown slowly and steadily and the location meant that surgical removal was not a viable option.

Adam had done his best to keep a brave face for his wife and his parents, for his child, but the symptoms had been worsening steadily for the past several months; dizzy spells, agonizing headaches and, most recently, occasional loss of vision.

And now… well, Death's presence spoke for itself.

Aside from all of this, though, Death could sense something else; the man, on some almost instinctual level, knew he was dying.

And he was very much afraid.

Oh, dear.

After using a small flux of power to ease the pain of the headache the man had been feeling as much as he could without actually killing him, Death once again assumed a human form. After a quick check to see that everything was in working order, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He was met with the sight of a black-haired man sitting on a queen-sized bed, dressed in a slightly worn suit with the top three buttons of the shirt undone. His brown eyes were slightly glazed and his face was covered with a thin layer of sweat, undoubtedly the result of the headache he'd just suffered. When his gaze met Death's, it was still out of focus.

"You're the new doctor, I suppose?" Adam said, voice slightly hoarse and so very tired. Death could feel his newly acquired eyebrows climbing his forehead. He considered it a stroke of luck, though, that the man wasn't questioning the appearance of a stranger in his home.

"Do you mind if I sit?" Death asked.

"Hm? Oh, no, no, of course not! Please!" Adam said, waving vaguely at a chair resting in front of a small vanity mirror. Death walked over and took it with a small inclination of the head. Once he'd settled he took some time to observe the man.

"You've held on fairly well," he said after a few moments. Adam gave a smile that was more of a grimace.

"You don't sound as optimistic as any of the other doctors," he said. There was a definite tremor underlying his words now.

Death just gave a non-committal hum before replying, "It's gotten worse."

The man's eyes, sharper now, widened for a moment before he looked at the floor. "Yes. It's… the headaches are nearly unbearable now and they come a lot more often. It's probably going to get better in a while, I've had periods where the headaches get really bad."

Death found it difficult to tell who he was trying to convince in that last sentence.

"You've told no one," Death said after the silence persisted for a minute.

"No." The man's voice was definitely a little higher-pitched this time. "It'll get better… the treatments are so expensive, poor Cathy's had to take on an extra shift at the hospital to pay for it all and we always have to leave Johnathan with his grandparents because we can't afford a babysitter! If she knew things had gotten so bad, I don't… I don't want to think about how she'd feel!"

"She sounds like a strong-willed woman," Death said.

Despite obvious worry, Adam managed a smile. "Yeah. A man couldn't ask for better… she's always been so independent; she put herself through nursing school, drove her Papa up the wall when she was a teenager."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Death mused. "By the way you speak of her, I'm certain you can trust her to manage things on her own."

Adam looked at him strangely for a moment, then his eyes became distant again as he smiled wistfully. "Yes. Cathy's a wonderful woman, working so long even when… wait a minute. She's… she's still at the hospital, she took the evening shift for the next month! The door was locked! How did you get in here? Who are you?" The man was standing now, posture defensive, expression stern, but his eyes betrayed his alarm.

"Peace, Adam," Death said, one hand raised in a placating gesture. His voice was quiet, but there was power in it.

The shift in the atmosphere was palpable. Adam stared at the figure before him, like he was trying to see something that was just a little too far for him to see it clearly. Despite the disguise, Death could tell that the man was beginning to perceive his true nature; that fact was confirmed when all expression left Adam's face.

"I'm never getting better, am I?"

"No."

"You're going to kill me?"

Oh, for the love of…! "Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I do not actually kill people unless they are royally upsetting the natural balance. I simply reap a soul when it is their time to die and, if necessary, guide them on."

Adam stared at him for a moment, surprisingly less afraid now that he saw Death for what he was. The man sat down heavily at the foot of the bed, covering his face with his hands. Death, meanwhile, pulled free the hourglass pendant from his robe and tapped it lightly with a skeletal finger. It spun around its axis once, twice, before the red sand within it settled. There was very little left at the top; less than five minutes by Death's estimate.

"Couldn't you… wait, for a few years?" Adam's voice drew Death's attention back to him; the man still hadn't moved from his position on the bed.

Death, having read several physical signs and knowing exactly how the man was going to die, responded, "I doubt you'll want me to."

"But… my family… God, my son, my child, he'll grow up without a father! Couldn't you…?"

"As do thousands of other children," Death interrupted, voice calm and gentle as he could make it considering his words. "Upsetting? Yes, but unfortunately that is the way of things. I am sorry that I must take you so soon, Adam Coleman, but there is nothing I can do."

Death hid the hourglass before Adam gave him a brief, despairing look. The man quickly looked at the ground again.

"They will be able to manage without you," Death said. "Will they grieve? Yes, of course. Things will be hard for them for quite some time. But your wife, as you said, is strong-willed and independent, and I do not doubt she loves your son just as fiercely as you do and will do everything in her power to give him the best life she can. Eventually, they will learn to live with your passing and, one day, they will follow you."

Adam smiled wanly as Death stood, staring at something on the wall behind Death's shoulder. "Though hopefully that won't be for a while."

Death tilted his head in acknowledgement. Adam blinked up at him, smile becoming just a little bit wider.

Then he grinned. To his credit it was only a little shaky. "No scythe?"

Aie. "Only when I want to scare people."

Adam gave a bark of surprised laughter as he stood too. His smile was a bit steadier when he looked at the Reaper again, more thoughtfully now. "You know, you're not what I would have expected."

"Daddy?"

Both figures' heads turned toward the doorway, in which stood a small child dressed in flannel pajamas, rubbing his eyes tiredly with one hand. Death was more than a little surprised to see the plump, glowing figure of the Sandman bobbing in the air behind him, smiling broadly while observing the scene with playful interest.

"Who're you talking to?" the child, Jonathan, asked. Adam cast a quick look sideways.

"They can't see me," Death said.

Adam gave the barest of nods, then opened his mouth before snapping it shut again, brow furrowing in confusion.

Ah, yes, I forgot he can't see Sanderson. "The Sandman is with him."

Adam blinked. "The Sandman is real?"

Johnathan smiled from ear to ear while Sandy grinned and hopped up and down in the air.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised," Adam mused, mostly to himself while his son began talking animatedly about his new glowing friend.

"Adam, I would recommend sending the child away."

Startled, Adam turned his head to see Death holding the hourglass pendant, the last few grains of sand slipping inexorably to the bottom.

"Wh…,"

"In a couple of minutes you're going to experience a fairly violent seizure; I would not think you'd want your son to witness that," Death said, tapping the hourglass.

The man was struck dumb for a moment. Then he turned back to the door and said, "Johnathan, why don't you and… and the Sandman go back to your room, huh? It's way past your bedtime, buddy, you shouldn't be up so late, Mama'll be upset when she gets home."

"Daddy, are you okay?"

Death was not surprised the child had picked up on his father's distress; the man's voice had been shaking so badly Death was surprised he'd been able to speak at all.

Adam took a deep, steadying breath and walked over to his son, going to his knees before him and placing his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"I'm fine, Johnny-boy. Everything's gonna be just fine," Adam said, smiling at his son. "You be good for your Daddy now, all right? You go back to bed, go to sleep. And be good for your Mama, too, okay? You be strong and brave for her, okay, Johnny?"

Johnathan smiled, showing the gap between two front teeth. "Like St. George and the dragon, Daddy?"

Adam gave a laugh that was half a sob. "Yes, Johnathan, like St. George and the dragon."

Sandy was looking worried at this point, having noticed Adam's distress but seeing no cause for it. Death just hoped he'd have the sense to keep the child away from this room for a while; hopefully he'd send him back to sleep.

Adam had drawn his son into a hug. The man's eyes were closed and he ran one hand through the boy's short blonde hair.

"I love you, Johnathan," he whispered, the words sounding like they were being dragged from his chest. "I love you so, so much."

"Love you too, Daddy," Johnathan answered happily, giving his father a quick peck on the cheek.

Adam made a choked sound, kissing his son's forehead before setting him back down. "You go on to bed, now," he whispered. "Goodnight, goodnight…,"

"Don't let the ladybugs bite!" Johnathan laughed, obviously repeating something he'd said before.

Adam laughed again, a genuine, happy laugh as Johnathan ran down the hall back to his own bedroom with the Sandman floating close behind.

"Remember that when you're older, kiddo!" he called. Johnathan laughed loudly one more time before the sound of his door closing echoed down the hall. Adam turned back to Death just as the Reaper tucked the pendant back into his robe. If there was a tear or two on the man's cheeks, Death didn't comment on them.

"He's always said ladybugs," Adam said, still smiling, though now there was a wistful edge to it. "Cathy tried to get him to say 'bedbugs' for months, but he would always say 'ladybugs'. Eventually she gave up; she acts annoyed when he does it, but I think she thinks it's funny, too."

Death inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement as Adam quietly closed the door.

"You may wish to lie down," Death said. Adam looked puzzled for a moment before understanding dawned in his eyes and he made his way over to the bed, settling himself comfortably near the middle.

"Thank you," the man said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"The clock on the wall. It wasn't moving when I was… when I was talking with Johnathan. Neither was my watch. They both stopped working when you touched that… that hourglass, and when you tapped it a second time they started going again. I'm not exactly sure what you did but… thank you."

Death nodded. "I can manipulate time, to a certain extent; I can't do it for very long if I don't wish to upset things, but in certain situations…,"

Adam smiled. Then his body went rigid and his eyes rolled back, limbs jerking spasmodically. Death reached forward and grabbed the soul before there could be more than a moment's pain.

A light frost was forming on the grass as Death made his way back out onto the street toward his horse. The reason for that became apparent when he heard a familiar laugh, and a moment later he saw Jack zipping about above the houses, playing with streams of golden sand that would turn into dolphins or horses when he touched them while the Sandman laughed silently in the middle of it all, directing a few threads of sand toward the frost sprite when Jack wasn't looking.

A low, warm pulse brought Death's attention to the soul in his hand. It had taken on the form of a glowing blue ball in its sleep-like state, and it sent another warm pulse at him when his senses gently prodded at it.

Happiness wasn't something he really dealt in. Peace, however, Death could do.