Author's note: This idea was inspired by an episode of New Amsterdam. A group of teenagers were waiting out a death sentence, finding comfort with dark humor and brief moments of honesty. When the dying began, no one thought it was suspicious...

Warning: Frank discussions of terminal illness and death. Angst. But a happy ending of sorts?


"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome."
― Isaac Asimov


"Nope. I'm not bailing you out again — just sit in the jail cell and do your time."

Tyler whined in defeat, banging the sides of his wheelchair just like he did every time he didn't get his way. Caroline rolled her eyes, quietly edging a $20 bill onto Tyler's side of the board while he was adjusting his blanket. She often wondered if Tyler got upset whenever they played Monopoly because he used to be a spoiled rich kid. Not anymore though.

During group one night, he'd confessed that Hodgkin's had ripped through his body at an alarming rate, and his family's fortune went right along with it. It had been a powerful moment when the normally cocky jackass had broken down, and their group had set aside its petty grudges to comfort him.

That had been the first night their hospice group felt more like real friends instead of a bunch of teenagers bonding over a death sentence. Caroline took her turn and rolled the dice, sending a mocking glare at Klaus when she caught him trying to subtly slide some of her houses off of one of her blocks of property. He flashed her a dimpled smirk and she felt herself blush. Well, Caroline would've blushed if she wasn't already burning up. She didn't bother shrugging off her thick blanket though — she knew better than anyone that the chills wouldn't be far behind. Everything went to shit the moment she broke her arm. It was supposed to be an easy cartwheel during cheer practice, but somehow she slipped and landed funny and the crack was so fucking LOUD.

Leukemia was a bitch.

Caroline could feel her thoughts wandering to that dark place she refused to go, so instead she put on her brightest smile and said, "Ok, let's hear it — there's a biopic about your life — what's it called?"

Katherine snorted, sliding her silver top hat game piece across the board and managing to miss every house and hotel that lay in wait, much to the group's good-natured grumbling. "Weak, Care Bear. Just like this stupid game."

"Seriously? You're still mad we voted against strip poker?"

Katherine shrugged, her crimson poppy scarf slipping a bit to reveal the bald, pale head below as she slyly replied, "You guys are missing out — My new colostomy bag matches my thong."

"And your scarf matches my bleeding gums," Caroline sarcastically replied, trading in her four houses for a hotel. "Also, my biopic would be Terms of Endocarditis."

"Forrest Lump," Klaus interjected with a wink in Caroline's direction.

"Puke Fiction," Tyler offered with a clumsy smile. When the group booed at his lackluster answer, he held up his hands in mock surrender to suggest, "The Shawshank Radiation?"

Laughing again, the group started tossing out other options.

"Lobe of the Rings!"

"Jurassic PARP inhibitor!"

"Saving Private Relapse!"

When Tyler started coughing uncontrollably, the good-natured teasing stopped as soon as it began. Everyone began playing a bit more loudly, almost aggressively in their need to feel in control of their lives. Even after all this time, they still didn't know what to do when reality kicked them in the balls.

As expected, Nurse April came rushing to their table, fussing over Tyler in all the ways he hated. The angry flush on his neck creeped in as she wheeled him back to his room, chirping excitedly about his pain management meds schedule.

Caroline exchanged grim looks with Klaus and Katherine, all searching for something to say. It was scary how easy it was when their little group got together to pretend they were just hanging out at some dumb house party and that their lives were normal. Normal. Like homework and prom and awkward first dates. Instead of annoying, beeping medical equipment and chalky pills and counting down your final days.

Brown eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief as Katherine shouted after them, "Don't forget to set the brake on your chair before you guys bang it out!"

Nurse April immediately blushed, and the rest of the group giggled and guffawed. It was in those moments that Caroline almost could let herself believe that they were all friends by choice rather than circumstance. Or, telling herself it didn't sting whenever she caught Klaus' lingering glances, and she felt that traitorous, bitter spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance it could work out.

Caroline realized Katherine must've called her name a few times, and she blinked, wondering if anyone noticed she'd been staring off into space...which was kind of in the general direction of Klaus' strong jawline. Even with his painfully thin frame, he was beautiful. "Um...what?"

"I asked if you two wanted to start over with Monopoly, but it looks you're playing a different game," Katherine teased, wiggling her smooth forehead where her eyebrows used to be.

Over Caroline's awkward protests, Klaus added his own grumbling, and Katherine playfully grinned at them both, slowly standing up from the table on shaky legs. Taking a raspy breath, she told them, "I'm off to bed — I'm guessing the staff left me a few little happy treats on my pillow next to my mint." Grasping her IV pole as she shuffled away, she teased, "I just LOVE the turndown service here!"

Once they were alone, Caroline giggled awkwardly, "Katherine's got quite the imagination." Frantically searching for something to say to distract from her obvious crush on Klaus, she added, "And FYI — a broken pelvis is not my idea of a good time."

At Klaus' knowing smirk, she blushed furiously, rolling her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself; my bones are basically Swiss cheese these days."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, chuckling, "I had something about holes and a sturdy cracker but that might be even more of a turnoff than the acrid stench of antiseptic in this place."

Despite the familiar exhaustion that was her constant companion, this was the part of the evening that Caroline always looked forward to. "Library," she asked hesitantly, worried that Klaus would be too tired to spend more time with her...or that maybe he wasn't interested and those lingering looks were just something her drug-addled brain had imagined.

"Of course," Klaus quickly replied, almost as though he'd been afraid she wouldn't ask. He slowly rose from the table and went to her chair, gallantly offering his elbow and Caroline had to fight the urge to swoon like they were in some stupid rom-com. It always was such a comfort to lean on Klaus as they made their way together to the small library where the staff thoughtfully kept a fire going. As she snuggled into him, Caroline marveled that despite his thin frame, he still was surprisingly firm underneath his black robe.

Gray eyes darkened with a devilish gleam as he teased in that delicious, raspy accent of his, "Careful, love. If you get much closer, we might need to fetch a condom."

She gently elbowed him in the side and he returned in kind, until both of them fell back into the soft pillows of the curved sectional, breathing hard. She caught him staring again, gray eyes alive with a seductive awareness in the soft lamplight. If only things could be different, she thought wistfully. In another life, Klaus would lean over and kiss her, running his fingers through her long blonde curls and rubbing against her curves.

Instead, she had sores on her tongue and inside her cheeks, and those bouncy blonde waves she used to spend ages taming with a curling iron had fallen out ages ago. And that last round of chemo had taken what little had been left of her curves. Nothing sexy about a shell.

"How are you," he asked softly.

Snorting, she replied, "Better than that chicken salad they served today." With a teasing smile, she added, "With cooking that bad, I'm pretty sure they're trying to free up some beds."

"Oh, Caroline, you are a delight."

Suddenly shy, she turned away from him, the orange and red flames drawing her gaze until she began to spot hazy patterns flickering in the firelight. "There. A raven — do you see it," she asked, drawing him into a favorite game of hers.

"I think it's a crow."

"Like you'd know the difference," she smiled, sinking comfortably into their familiar argument.

Lips curling into an indulgent smile, he replied, "Ravens are larger with a curved beak and apparently have a penchant for stalking alcoholic 19th-century writers." Patting along his shoulder and chest, he added wryly, "Not to mention I have some tattooed on me."

Caroline wanted to purr at the image he invoked. She'd caught a glimpse of his tattoo once or twice when he'd been changing. (She kept telling herself it wasn't in a pervy way since their rooms were across from each other and his door had been open. Not looking would've been like ignoring a penny face side up and refusing all that free good luck.)

"Birds used to creep me out before...everything happened," she confessed. "But now, I don't know, maybe I envy them a little? It might be nice to know I could fly away whenever I wanted."

Klaus nodded sympathetically. "I think we've all felt that way at some point. Especially when things start to feel bleak. It's easy for some to lose hope. And once hope has vanished from your heart..." He hesitated, staring at the fire as though contemplating his words. "I think Tyler has reached that place."

Caroline flinched, feeling the sting of that truth. At first, Tyler's anger had given him purpose, something to cling to among the endless cycle of meds and too-chirpy nurses and bitter astringent smells. Where 'pain management' meant putting death on hold one hazy day at a time. But as time wore on, everyone in their group had watched his explosive temper give way to a solemn, sullen existence. "There's still so much...I mean, I don't understand how you can just give up," she said with a sigh of frustration.

"Because you are a rare soul filled with infinite happiness, sweetheart," he told her, lightly tracing her open palm with an intimacy that made her shiver pleasantly. "It's awe-inspiring how wonderfully optimistic you remain despite what's waiting out there."

She closed her fingers over his, the fire doing little to take the ever-present chill from their bodies. Jerking her chin toward their surroundings, she told him, "This is all just a brief intermission; the best stuff happens later."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it has to," Caroline retorted, feeling the familiar fury of how supremely unfair life had been to her and her friends. As the cruel fog of bone-weary exhaustion and meds began to catch up with Caroline, she felt herself start to drift off. However, she wasn't afraid; Klaus was there.


It wasn't a surprise that Tyler passed away that night. It was inevitable, Caroline angrily reminded herself as she sat between Katherine and Klaus. This day was coming for all of them. She shifted in the cold, metal chair under the canopy, her gaze straying to the too-green blanket of grass covering the pile of dirt next to the open grave. Why did they bother? Everyone knew there was a lumpy pile of dirt under there. They had to make room for the body going into the ground. The body that used to be a person.

A trickle of hot tears made it past her handkerchief, and Caroline furiously rubbed at her face until it bloomed red. She'd always been an ugly crier. Not like Katherine, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for being so shallow at a time like this. But she couldn't help it — Katherine stoically sat there, pale and tragic and beautiful with a single tear artfully decorating her cheekbone. She hadn't spoken since the staff had delivered the news, collapsing in a heap beside Caroline.

Tyler's death hit hard for all of them, but for Katherine, it was clearly more. Caroline had tried to talk to her, but her friend just stared blankly out the window. Klaus also had been stoic, but seemed more concerned for Caroline. He held her hand, letting her cry it all out until she was too exhausted to do more than fall asleep on him.

A gentle nudge at her shoulder caught her attention, and she lifted her gaze, noting in confusion that the mourners were starting to leave. The funeral had ended while she'd drifted off in her haze of medication and barely numbed pain. Damn this disease. It wasn't enough that it would take her life; it also made her lose time along the way.

"Are you ready to go back, love?"

She squeezed Klaus' hand in response, nodding toward Katherine's lone figure huddled on the ground beside the grave. Her friend seemed to be staring down at Tyler's coffin. "I didn't know," Caroline whispered, brokenly. "Katherine never seemed like she needed anybody, but now I think..." Why didn't Katherine say anything about her feelings for Tyler? Probably for the same reason you've never told Klaus how you feel.

"Katherine has lost hope," Klaus told Caroline regretfully, helping her toward the car that would take them back to the hospice. "She needs to say goodbye."


It was no good. Sleep just wasn't happening tonight. With a shaky sigh, Caroline moved aside the heavy covers and began the slow crawl to the side of her bed. Katherine had seemed so despondent once they got her back to her room and Caroline was worried. She briefly thought about going across the hall and waking up Klaus, but decided against it. Sleep was too hard to come by in this place.

The cold, reassuring metal of her walker was in her grasp, and she followed the soft glow of the hallway lamps down to Katherine's room. The door was slightly ajar, and Caroline stubbornly pushed it open, not wanting to give Katherine the chance to refuse her comfort. She'd prepared for mournful tears. She'd prepared for furious recriminations. But not this.

A haggard creature cloaked in black was crouched at Katherine's bedside, and a bony, clawed hand rested upon her friend's chest. No, not cloaked in black. Instead, it seemed to be made up of shadows, with oily black wings flaring out as it sensed her presence. She was struck silent by the sight, briefly wondering if it was a crazy hallucination brought on by her meds.

However, when the creature began siphoning a golden wisp of light from Katherine's too-still form, that's when Caroline managed to croak out a terrified, "No!"

The creature turned toward Caroline and gave a great shudder, skin and bones shifting until...she knew his face. Klaus.

"Caroline."

Heart thudding in her chest, she shakily pointed at Katherine's body and accused, "You killed her!"

Klaus shook his head as the golden wisps of light faded, only to flare briefly in his gaze. "No, I set her free." Gesturing toward her friend, he explained, "Katherine lost hope and knew her time was near. My kind can sense the silent hopelessness in one's heart."

She shrewdly observed, "You did this to Tyler too. What are you?"

She waited for Klaus to grab her or threaten her or do any of the things that monsters were supposed to do. Instead, he seemed sorrowful and almost nervous as he replied, "I'm a Sluagh. Folklore associates us with dark fae, but we do not perform our duty out of malice. The harvesting of souls isn't taken lightly; mortals live as nature intended, and when they reach the end of their time here and all that remains is suffering, we offer them a choice."

Despite her fear, Caroline slowly moved toward Katherine, sitting beside her. No, no longer her. A body. "What exactly did Katherine and Tyler choose?"

Klaus seemed to weigh his words carefully, even choosing to sit across the room as though mindful of her terror. "They chose to let go of this mortal coil and move on to the next plane of existence. I took away their pain." Ducking his head, he hesitantly confessed, "But I hope that you'll make a different choice when it's your time."

His words struck home despite Caroline's fear and sorrow over losing her friends. She'd never been given a choice. This disease had taken away everything. Dead before she'd gotten to live. "What's the other choice?"

"Become like me."

Klaus said it with such earnestness, Caroline was charmed despite her inner voice screaming for a shred of sanity in this bizarre situation. He cared for her. She recalled the enormous wings he'd displayed earlier.

Fuck sanity. Caroline wanted to fly.