This story is set in the TV-verse but with content from the comics mixed in.

Warning!

The first three chapters can contain adult themes, if you are sensitive to the following, please don't read:

- mention of child abuse/rape (not graphic, it's only mentioned)
- instance of self harm (not the emotional/cry for help/depressed kind)
- strong language
- scene of violence/rape (though it's not exactly non/con, but I can't explain more without spoiling plot details)

As always, if you like what you read, please consider leaving a review

2002

The old place reeked of mildew and old vomit, there were piss stains in the faded brown carpet and there were suspicious looking clumps in the stairwells that might very well be faecal matter. It was unsurprising then that the apartment building looked as dark and dank as it smelled.

Still, beggars can't be choosers and Death was supposed to be impartial, neutral… Switzerland.

Deaths occurred all over the world, even in shitty London apartment buildings. And, even as she carefully made her way up the stairs, mindful of were she placed her booted feet, she was also with the people who had died in a fire in a flat in Cairo, just as she was with the people who couldn't quite grasp the fact they'd just died in a plane crash in Mexico. She was also with the old woman who'd died in her sleep in her posh manor somewhere in Sussex, surrounded with riches and jewels, but no one to share her wealth with.

Here she was on her way for a young woman. A girl still, really. OD'd in her bed. A shot of heroin gone wrong. Maisy had died choking on her own vomit. Some deaths were just heart-breaking.

But, unlike what a lot of people liked to think, Death wasn't the cause of death. Deaths just happened or people did it to themselves. Her job was simply to help the just deceased, often still in shock, to accept their new status so they could start their last ever journey, to the afterlife… whatever that held in store for them. This was her job. Her purpose. And she was damned good at it.

She shook her head at Maisy who gave her a startled look. "I'm sure you regret that shot now."

"I-I didn't mean to," Maisy whispered, looking at the pale husk of her body. "I just wanted to feel…"

"I know, kid. But it's time to go now." Death offered her hand and Maisy took it. And, just as she was about to spirit them away, Death heard music. Violin. She smiled hearing the sheer effort of struggling through the notes of Caprice no. 24 by Paganini. A bit too slow and far from perfect but she admired the perseverance.

With a flap of her mighty wings Death brought Maisy to her final destination and─was it boredom? Curiosity perhaps?─went straight back to that shitty building.

Someone was still abusing the violin and Death couldn't help herself; she bit back a smile when she could hear sobs of frustration. She wasn't sure if they came from the violin crying abuse, or from the player. All she had to do was focus on the sound and then she was in the room with the person struggling through the caprice.

A ten year old girl looked up.

Death was usually very composed. And, even as an omniscient being, she didn't keep track of everything at the exact same time. So, yes. The ten year old girl surprised her. Or rather, she allowed herself to be surprised.

"Hello, little one," she offered with a smile, hoping it was friendly enough. "That is a very big song for such a small girl."

The young girl looked back at her with eyes that were too old, too weary, to fit her youth. They were of an unusual rain-washed silver-blue colour that looked capable of exuding a warm, gentle glow or of burning with icy fury.

Right now they were empty though. There was no fear in those eyes, just a bleak sense of resignation. And Death wondered. What was a girl of ten or so doing possessed of such a mature emotion?

The answer, unfortunately, became immediately apparent.

The girl's bushy hair was an unkempt mess and spoke of neglect. Clearly no one bothered to help her brush her hair or give her clean clothes. She looked… miserable, yet, not broken, and it made Death want to search for a brush so she could untangle the unruly mess and turn it into a tumble of burnished honey gold tresses.

With a practised move, the girl removed the instrument from the cradle that had formed between her neck and chin, and she lowered the bow.

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice, devoid of fear, mirrored the same resignation that could be found in her eyes.

With the music now stopped, other sounds–sounds a ten year old girl should have no knowledge of– penetrated the thin walls of her bedroom. If it could even be called that. Death tried to keep the beginnings of a distasteful look at bay. If the girl looked neglected, the bedroom was…

She had no words for it, but it was worse.

A few bare lightbulbs illuminated the room, no decorative shades. There was no wallpaper adorning the walls, save the ancient scraps that were still on there after the rest had been peeled away. The curtains were mere rags, kept in place by nails hammered in the wall above the tiny window. Her bed was a mattress on the floor with bare duvets and a bare pillow, no fitted sheets. There were no toys, just a few crummy shelves with a pathetic looking thin stack of books.

To be honest, Death was surprised to find a quality music stand here and she knew the violin was a good one, kept in a quality case that was, for now, placed on the bed.

"A friend," Death said finally, knowing that every second she remained here, more and more awareness would creep into the girl until she knew fully well who was with her in her… bedroom. "What's your name, little girl?"

"Hope."

It was completely unnecessary to ask this question of course. By now, Death already knew everything there was to know about this girl, Hope Ericks, that fell within the purview of her function.

When the girl was born. The aspirations Death had left her with when she gave her the breath of life. The moment she was placed into the loving arms of her joyous mother… Oh, how she had been loved and wanted.

And Death also knew when she would release her final breath. And she wondered what circumstances in this little girl's life would lead to such a short-lived existence. She didn't know. Or, perhaps she did and she simply didn't want to know.

As she'd once told her brother, Destruction, they not only could know everything there was to know. They actually did. They just pretended they didn't to make it all bearable. And right now, that was just fine with her.

"That is a lovely name."

Hope gave her a look that clearly said she didn't agree. "It doesn't fit," she then said.

"Give it time," Death told her, "because I think it does. This…" she gestured with her hands at the bleak surroundings. "isn't you. It does not define you. So, please, don't let it. And keep practising. You've got real talent, kiddo."

Something flickered in those silver-blue eyes, something ugly. Death knew what it was, but she preferred to pretend that she didn't.

The girl didn't play because she was talented, but because she had to. It was, unfortunately, necessary.

And Death couldn't be here any longer.

"Close your eyes, Hope," she said, her voice suddenly oddly raspy.

The moment she did, Death spread her wings and took flight.

2002

Destiny's Gallery.

"Sister," Destiny's voice echoed through his grand gallery, filled with towering pillars, intricate statues, and a collection of enormous portraits depicting his siblings. "I stand in my gallery, and I summon you to me. It is I, Destiny of the Endless, who calls you. Come."

Death of the Endless, clad in her usual attire of black pants and a matching tank top, appeared swiftly. Her sole accessory was a silver ankh hanging from a delicate silver chain. "Hey, big bro. What's up?"

"I need a word with you," Destiny replied.

Death arched an eyebrow, gesturing towards her outfit. "No complaints about my attire?"

"I did not call a conclave of the Endless, sister. So, no."

"It's just me then?"

"It's just you."

"Shall we walk to the refectory?"

"According to my book, we will discuss the matter right here."

"What matter?"

"You have visited a young mortal girl recently. You will have to visit her again."

Death arched her eyebrow once more, displaying no surprise at the mention of the girl. "Why? Right, I forgot. No spoilers. When do I visit her?"

"A year from now. And the year after that. And the year after that. And so on, and so forth."

A brief pause ensued as the two siblings silently observed each other.

"I will not question what you see written in your book, my brother, but may I ask why?" Death inquired.

"Sister, there are things that are not in my book," Destiny's voice carried a touch of regret, an unfamiliar tone for him, as he was always composed. "There are paths outside this garden. Your paths will intersect many times, that I can tell you. As to why, that, as of yet, is still hidden. Even for me."

"Very well, I will do as you ask, my brother."

"Thank you, my sister."

Another brief pause ensued.

"A star was born, a long time ago, into the Corona Constellation. Not twenty years from now, its light will first grace the night sky," Destiny's voice turned reflective.

"The Corona Constellation? Our constellation?"

"Indeed."

"What does it mean?"

Destiny remained stoically silent.

Death let out a sigh. "Why are you telling me then?"

"I am Destiny. I am what must happen. And this I needed to tell you because there will come a moment you need to know this."

"You could always peek ahead and…" She shook her head. "Don't worry, I'm just kidding. I guess we will all find out soon enough, won't we?"

2020

Years of careful planning and plotting had finally culminated to this moment… Hope stepped over the threshold of Fawney Rig where, somewhere, Dee's little brother was held captive.

The housekeeper, an elderly portly lady by the name of Glennis Harwick, showed her the house, told her some gardener (Hope instantly forgot the name) who'd gladly show her the grounds should she wish so, showed her to her room (with a private bathroom!) and introduced her to her new employer after he woke from his nap.

It was quite chilly in the large study. Or maybe she just felt cold because Alex Burgess looked so nice and kind, though something cold lurked in his eyes.

He was holding one of the Endless captive. It should not even be possible. The Endless were… concepts, aspects of life. How do you capture a concept? How can you imprison an idea? Yet, somehow Alex' father had managed to do just that… Something impossible.

Then again, she'd become friends with Death.

One day, each year, for the past eighteen years or so, Death (or rather Dee, as Hope liked to call her) came to visit her, to spend time with her. And once every hundred years, so Dee had told her, she even became fully mortal, to spend a day among them, living… and dying. That day, she'd promised, was about to happen again very soon.

Hope looked forward to it, because no matter how much she liked hanging out with Dee: laughing with her at stupid tv-shows, showing off her masterful skills on the violin, or simply talking… At the end of it all, she was still death, literal death. Except for that one day in a hundred years.

And if Hope could befriend Death, then perhaps it was not so impossible after all to capture a dream.

"Are you even listening, young lady?" Impatience laced Alex' voice and his partner (assistant, lover, husband?) patted his arm to soothe him.

The old man was in a creaky old wheelchair. Which surprised Hope. Surely the old man had enough money to buy the best of the best?

"I am so sorry, Mr Burgess," Hope said in what she hoped was a humble, sincere tone of voice. "It's just so much to take in! This place is so"─pompous, garish, an insult to life itself─"grand!"

There was nothing grand about this place. Perhaps it once had been, a life time ago, but now it was just a collection of severely outdated furniture. From a distance it looked vintage chic, but up close you could see decay setting in: from the old mauve coloured sofa's, to the dusty old-rose curtains, down to the fading Persian carpets.

"I see. Well, yes, of course," Alex Burgess replied, looking around him as though seeing it all for the very first time. "This can be a rather intimidating place, but, I assure you we're just a few kind old souls."

She seriously doubted that.

"A bit obstinate perhaps, but otherwise not at all intimidating. Right, Paul?"

"Right," his dark-skinned partner said with a humouring smile.

Oh, how appearances could deceive. He had to know what being, or entity was being held here against his will. And, no matter how kind he looked, how kind either of them looked, that fact alone made them monsters in her eyes.

"We are so glad you were available on such short notice."

All part of the plan.

"You see, the previous live-in nurse… What was her name, darling?"

"Lucy Eddington," Paul offered immediately.

It's actually Edmunds, but an A for the effort.

"Right, Lucy!" Alex said, as if he was talking about a long lost friend. "Such an unfortunate accident. Did you know she was pushed from the top of the stairs in her building? Poor thing broke her leg in three places!"

Something that would probably one day haunt her straight to the gates of hell.

"Oh, that's really too bad. Such an unfortunate accident," Hope said, trying to look empathic.

"And everyone else was already hired out. I mean, we could have tried a different agency of course but the Ladies of Bethesda…"

"We do pride ourselves on our sterling reputation."

"Indeed. I guess it was a stroke of luck you were just in-between positions when poor Lucy broke her leg."

A stroke of luck was certainly one way to call it. Plotting and scheming was another.

"Oh, absolutely. I believe a request specifically directed towards me arrived just as I was in the midst of my initial meeting with your representative."

"We heard! Didn't we, darling?"

"Yes, Beasley immediately notified me. I had to make an instant decision."

"I'm so glad Paul ordered Beasley to offer you the job on the spot."

"And I am very glad I was able to accept."

"Good, now… let's discuss a few… house rules… if you will. Shall we?"

When Alex Burgess made it very clear that under no circumstance was she ever allowed to enter the basement, Hope knew exactly where she would find Dream of the Endless. Now she just had to figure out a way to set him free. Because her friend Death was worried about her little brother and for some reason, something to do with ancient rules and bound by magic and blah di blah, Dee could not intervene herself. And Hope was certain, one hundred percent, that the only reason her friend had casually mentioned her worry about her imprisoned little brother, was so she could find a way to help.