A/N: This took longer than expected because my new server ate half of the original chapter and I nearly died of it. But I finally got it rewritten, so here's a little bonding between Liz and Lord Death, because I love writing them together. And because my headcanon says that he comes to rely on her and tells her more than he tells anybody else. He knows he can trust her to tell him the straight truth and she knows he respects her.
Deep thanks to everyone who's reading - I appreciate you spending time on this little story 3. Special hugs for the folks who took extra time out of their days to review. Individual responses are at the end!
"I'm going to go spit on every single thing in your room! Everything!" Patty hollered as she ran up the stairs. She didn't bother to run very fast, though. She knew he'd cave before she got anywhere close to the top. And he did.
"Fine!" Kid's shout echoed off the foyer walls, "But not for long, do you understand me? We've been gone all afternoon and I have homework."
Not that he'd ever put pleasure before duty, of course, but he really couldn't wait to get outside in the summer sunshine and ride Beelzebub just for fun. He and Patty were getting pretty good at double-rider stunts and when he did solo tricks he had a very appreciative audience. However, it wasn't a good idea to let Patty believe she could easily have her way all the time; that was a sure-fire recipe for utter chaos.
"She is so spoiled." he pretend-groused to Liz, who was making a weary attempt to ignore both of them.
"Oh, like you can talk, you little brat." she replied. There wasn't much bite in her sarcasm, though. Kid wondered if she was coming down with something.
"Come and watch us, Sis!" Patty implored, pulling on her sister's arm. It was so much fun to watch Liz scream when they did dangerous stunts. Sometimes Patty fell off the back of the skateboard on purpose, just to keep things interesting. She always went into weapon form just before she landed, but her sister still freaked out every time. It was hilarious.
Liz shook her head, "Maybe in a little bit, okay? You and Kid go have fun."
They'd just gotten home from a reap and she was tired and achy. She didn't want to do anything but spend some quality tub time in her peaceful, private, lockable bathroom. Although she'd gone fifteen years without so much as a bed to call her own, it was quickly becoming impossible to imagine life without a three-room suite. Four if you counted her beautiful closet with all of its customized hanging rods and whisper-quiet fitted drawers. She loved her closet.
Kid paused at the vestibule door.
"I really should go report to Dad before I do anything else." he said, sounding just a little plaintive.
As usual, Liz saw right through him. She'd had a bad afternoon, but he'd had worse.
"I'll do it." she said, "Get out of here."
They didn't need to be told twice, and Liz heaved a sigh of relief when the triumphant Patty slammed the front door behind them. She loved her sister, and Kid wasn't always a living horror, but damn did they wear her out sometimes. Kid had insisted on flying in lieu of using a mirror, which was fine for him but sucked for Liz, who got backaches from being in weapon form for extended periods of time. When they arrived at their destination they'd been ambushed, and their simple, single-target assignment turned into a free-for-all battle and a mass reap. Afterward Kid plunged into a tailspin because they hadn't collected an even number of souls, and Patty had found a big snake they wouldn't let her take home. Coaxing them out of their respective fits had taken half the trip home. The big skateboarding-versus-homework argument promptly took up the other half.
Mrs. Hurst appeared from the back of the house, carrying a loaded try with her usual efficient bustle.
"Oh, you're back!" she smiled, and Liz felt one of those flares of warmth she'd been having lately. That she had a home and someone to be glad when she returned to it was no small thing.
The housekeeper took in Liz' dusty clothes and tired face, "Looks like it was a tough one," she said sympathetically, "Why don't you go upstairs and take a nice bath?"
"I will in a little bit. I told Kid to go on out and play with Patty, so I'm going to go see Lord Death and give him our rundown first. "
"That was nice of you, dear. I'm going that way myself." Mrs. Hurst made a little gesture with the tray, "I swear that man would starve himself to death if we didn't put food right in front of him."
Liz, who'd physically forced a piece of toast down Kid's throat two days before, rolled her eyes, "It runs in the family. Here, let me take it to him since I'm going in there anyway."
She took the big silver tray, along Mrs. Hurst's thanks, and carried it down one of the halls that branched off the foyer. The one that most people only used for official business with Death. Which you generally didn't want to have if it didn't involve tea cakes and sandwiches. It was kind of like the West Wing at the White House, only weirder. At least Liz was pretty sure the President didn't have multiple dimensions at his beck and call.
The office door was half-open. Lord Death left it that way whenever possible, mostly so he could keep tabs on the screaming and fighting that often echoed through the house. Granted, he only stepped in when things got totally out of hand, but at least he was trying to pay attention these days.
She tapped on the door with the toe of her boot and when Death told her to come in she elbowed it the rest of the way open, maneuvering the big tray around it. He jumped up to help her but she brushed him off.
"I got it. Get all the crap off the coffee table so I can put it down."
He hastily gathered up a handful of intelligence reports and satellite photos to make space for the Georgian silver and Sevres china.
Liz gratefully put down the heavy tray. "That is a fuck ton of food. Mrs. Hurst must think you haven't eaten in a week. Which you probably haven't."
Lord Death glanced over her dirty work uniform and a playful grin livened up his usually serious face.
"Everything quiet at the OK Corral, partner?"
"Shut up." she tossed her cowboy hat onto a tottering pile of ledgers and stretched her tired back.
"Seen Wyatt Earp lately?"
"Seriously, shut up or I'll smash this butt-ugly teapot on your head." Liz threatened, "I never should have let Patty pick our uniforms. This Wild West cowboy shit sucks. If anybody back in New York saw me in this I would die."
"You might need something a little more decorous for formal affairs." Lord Death conceded, still grinning.
Liz glared at him. He'd inadvertently hit another sore spot. "Yeah, Kid already thought of that, and he picked those outfits. They're maroon. Maroon pantsuits. I look like a fucking bellhop."
Lord Death winced.
"Where do you even get a maroon pantsuit nowadays? I mean, pants are fine for afternoon or business affairs and everyone needs a good power suit. But that means a nice, princess-seamed Armani jacket, not something that hasn't been in style since 1994. Kid's got excellent taste in menswear, but he obviously needs work in the ladies' department. "
Liz stared at him with her mouth hanging open.
"Dude. Princess-seamed Armani jacket? You can't remember to eat, but you're all up on women's clothes?"
"My wife was a seamstress when I met her; we've had a subscription to Women's Wear Daily since 1910. I bet I know more about women's clothes that you ever will. Plus I read some of those magazines you leave lying around. Notice that I'm not voicing any stodgy, adulty complaint about that exposed midriff? Teen Vogue, September issue."
"You pay attention to the weirdest crap." Liz told him.
"I try to stay hip."
She gave him one of those looks that only a teenage girl can muster, "It's not 1952 anymore. If you were plugged in for realz, you wouldn't say 'hip'."
"I'll try to remember that," He gestured at the loaded tray on the coffee table, "Join me?"
"Uh, sure. I guess."
Liz sank rather gratefully into a chair while Death hunted up another cup from the cabinet where the ugly office tea set lived when not in use.
"Do you want to pour or shall I?" he asked, taking a seat in the chair beside hers and gesturing at the pot.
"Uh, you do it. I don't know how." Liz suddenly felt uncomfortably out of place. She'd never even been to a pretend tea party, let alone a real one. Death expertly filled the cups and asked if she took milk and sugar.
Now she felt like a real hick. How was she supposed to know? When she was little she'd smoked candy cigarettes and pretended the water in her glass was vodka. By the time she was twelve, she'd moved up to the real thing, and worse. She had no business sitting in here drinking out of a cup that was probably worth more than most people's cars. Even if it was uglier than sin.
"I don't know. You decide." she said in a hard, tight voice, "What's the big deal?"
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea." Lord Death replied.
"Are you making fun of me?" Liz demanded. Teasing her about a uniform they mutually thought silly was fine, but making fun of her ignorance was not. Making fun of people made them feel like shit. Like you would if kids at school picked on you for having holes in the knees of your jeans. Like a little girl might feel if she saw a drawing she'd just given her mother all crumpled up in the wastebasket...
Liz felt her eyes sting and she scrunched her face up in an attempt to channel tears into pure fury.
Lord Death put the cup down, wondering what he'd done wrong now. Why were teenagers so damned touchy?
"Of course not, honey," he touched her cheek worriedly, "It's just a quote by Henry James."
"Henry James sounds like a pompous asshole." she sounded fierce, but her body and face relaxed. Okay, so he hadn't been making fun of her. Just being his usual weird self. Plus, she'd learned "pompous" in English last week and using it in a sentence made her feel good.
"Actually, he kind of was." Death agreed, "But he was right about how nice it is to enjoy little everyday events. Especially pleasant, civilized ones with people we like."
She smiled at that, and he felt his stomach unclench. He'd sidestepped the landmine of inexplicable teen wrath for once.
"Okay, so let's do this thing, then." Liz was in haughty, smart-mouthed command of herself again, "Do I want the milk and sugar or what?"
"Let's try it plain and see how that goes." he passed the cup to her and Liz looked askance at it before finally risking a sip. She was a black coffee girl and was surprised at how comforting the hot, prettily scented tea was.
"This is not bad." she said grudgingly. Lord Death nodded toward the tray.
"Have a little sandwich and some cake to go with it." he suggested, "And a scone. They're delicious with clotted cream and lemon curd. You could use a little pick me up; you look tired. Rough reap?"
Liz took the plate he handed her "You have no idea." she told him, taking a bite of chicken salad on delicately sliced bread, "We got the guy you sent us after, but he had, like, thirty-four friends we didn't know about until they jumped out of the bushes at us."
Death's teacup paused midway to his lips, "So thirty-five all together? And they were all pre-kishin? Was Kid sure?"
"As sure as he could be while they were trying to kill him. We've got the souls all here if you want to take a look at them yourself. Kid wasn't wrong, but even if they weren't kishin wannabes, they were being a bunch of dicks."
"Well, that's hardly a killing offense."
"It is if you're being a dick with an AK-47."
"Fair enough."
"You're supposed to be worried about Kid, by the way. Just sayin'. They knocked the hell out of him. He's fine, but if someone's been trying to kill your son you should ask, you know? Anyway, the deal is that it's worse than you thought. Whoever you have in charge down there isn't giving you good information."
She stared at him penetratingly, "But you knew that, didn't you? And that's why you sent us to take care of that reap. You think you've got a dirty Deathscythe on your hands, huh?"
"Did Kid tell you that?"
Liz looked offended, "I be not be as smart as him, but I can figure some things out for myself."
"You, Miss," Lord Death gestured at her with half of a cucumber sandwich, "are smarter than anybody thinks you are. Including yourself."
He finished the sandwich, deep in thought. Liz knew that he and Kid never talked with their mouths full, so while she waited for him to finish chewing she took another sip of tea and idly glanced at the pile of documents he'd shoved aside to make room for the tea tray. The satellite photos on top were awfully familiar. She'd seen the same view from the air once already.
"Hey, this is where we were today!" she exclaimed., "You gonna bomb them or something?"
"I hope that doesn't become necessary." Lord Death wondered why he was telling her this, "That's always the last resort."
"So we were the first resort?" Liz put the photo down and peeked at the papers underneath.
"Unfortunately, yes," Lord Death's frustration was sharp and bitter, "Since I can't go myself and I don't have a Deathscythe I can trust, I have to send the next best thing."
"Must suck that the next best thing is your own kid. I'd hate sending Patty somewhere I knew was dangerous." she said pityingly.
"Not just Kid. You and Patty are my girls and I hated sending all of you. I wish I'd known how bad the situation was beforehand, but, as you said, I'm not getting reliable information."
His girls. Liz felt another of those warm, cozy feelings and feigned deep interest in a piece of green paper to hide it. Feigning deep interest got her to reading it, and she realized she'd gotten her hands on a manifest.
"Holy shit, that's a lot of guns!" she shrieked. She might not know how to preside over afternoon tea, but she knew all about weaponry and this was enough to...to...
"Are you gonna start a war?" she demanded, wide-eyed. It was hard to imagine Kid's distracted, distant father in charge of anything so complicated and dangerous. What if he wandered off in the middle and forgot to finish it?
Death sighed, "Let's call that the second resort. There are rumors that a particularly evil soul is gathering a strong following, possibly with intent to overthrow the current government. Rumor also has it that my Deathscythe may be on his side. The intel he sent for your job today listed one target, not thirty-five. My guess is that if I'd let him take care of it, I'd have gotten that single reap and the others would have been kept a secret that went on living."
Why, he wondered again, was he telling her all this? It was on a top level need-to-know basis and she was a fifteen year old child. Still, he'd forgotten how good it felt to discuss things with a sympathetic and shrewd listener. Even though she was far too young to be the sounding board he needed, she could be counted on to tell him the plain truth.
"Guy probably pissed off the wrong people and they figured it would be a way to get rid of him and keep your Deathscythe looking good at the same time. That way it might seem like he's still doing his job." Liz said sagely.
She calmly downed her scone, while Death watched with bemused respect.
"How do you know these things?"
"I watch a lot of movies." she shrugged, then added, "Plus I know bad guys. The drug dudes and the mob do this all the time. Not take over a whole country, I mean. Just anybody who gets on the wrong side of them. Good way to make off with a lot of cash and stuff if you sneak in while the shit's going down. Patty and I scored big time that way a couple of times. Like, one time, three thousand in cash and a couple kilos of heroin."
He really didn't want to know that. Perhaps she wasn't far too young after all.
"Maybe I should send you to my meeting with the UN tonight. I think you understand all this better than I do, and I sure as hell don't want to go."
Liz shook her head, "I can't. I have to go take a bath; my hair looks like shit."
"I was just teasing."
She looked slightly disappointed.
"Well, sucks to be you, then. Send your clown thing instead. No, wait, don't. That thing is creepy as fuck and I don't think it's right in the head. It might start a war for giggles."
Lord Death smiled fondly at her, "I prefer to call it a possible pre-emptive countermeasure instead of a war."
"You can call it whatever you want. Still a war. Do you want to look at those souls with Kid? He's out blowing off some steam with Patty, but I can call him in."
"No, I trust his judgment. Anyway, he won't like all of this. He doesn't feel we should be involved in world politics as much as we are."
"What does he know? He's twelve years old and he's not right in the head, either."
As if to prove her point, the front door gave a thunderous bang and Kid's screaming could be clearly heard from the front hall, along with Patty's maniacal laughter.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Patty? I said I needed to wash my hands, not that you should turn the hose on me! Who does that? Hoses are not for playing with. I'm all wet. And you know what the label on this suit says? It says dry clean only. And now there's water all over the floor. And mud. And grass. And it's only where I'm standing, because you're dry. Oh, fuck, I need to clean this up. It's disgusting. I need a mop. I need a mop! I need a mop, damnit! Mrs. Hurst I need a mop!"
"I really need to do something about his language. It's getting terrible." Lord Death observed. It was obvious that the Thompson sisters, Liz in particular, were rubbing off on his son.
"His language? That's the least of your worries. I am so done with them today!" Liz banged her head against the back of her chair.
"I should go help, I suppose." he sighed. He wanted to do that even less than he wanted to deal with possible pre-emptive countermeasure strategy. Although come to think of it, there wasn't much difference between war and raising children.
"Nah." Liz got up and went to the door, "Lemme take care of the little pests."
She marched out into the hall and bellowed so loudly that it nearly scared Lord Death into upsetting his plate.
"Shut up! We don't want to listen to your shit so settle the hell down. If I have to come in there you guys are going to be sorry sonavabitches. Go change, go back outside, go to hell...I don't care as long as you both shut up. This hour is dedicated to afternoon tea and some of us are trying to relax and be fucking CIVILIZED in here."
It went dead silent and Liz returned to the office, slamming the door behind her. She plopped back down into her chair and held out her empty cup without hesitation.
"Hit me," she told her stunned companion, "Straight up, with a scone on the side. Extra lemon curd."
RESPONSES!
Alma: I'm so glad you like it! I'm still not quite happy with the way I developed Kid's neurosis, but I have an eventual plot line I want to develop and it seemed like the only way to get there. I'm having so much fun with these little character-driven chapters and am so glad you're enjoying them too!
Guest: I just get all gleeful imagining Kid, Liz, Patty and Lord Death living in the Gallows as a wacky, weird family. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing - feedback really keeps me going!
REDEADED: Look - I finally got something out! Go me! And you couldn't have anything but great kids - you're too awesome not to pass cool genes along :)
SempiternalDreamer: I hope you like this one as well as the last! I'm looking forward to your take on it, and for new chapters from all the incredible stories you're working on.
Shimmerbreeze: Thank you so much! I hope you like this installment :)
Loki son of Laufey: Damn, that was one hell of a nice review. You kept me fired up enough to finally get through this chapter - I hope you love Liz as much in this little bonding-with-Lord-Death chapter.