Confrontation

I glanced across the hospital bed to find an odd face staring at me. An old face. A too familiar face.  “Time.”

“Hello, Death.” We glared at each other, sizing each other up. It was the first time we were together in months- since our last um, conflict.

“You’re looking well.”

“You’re looking ghastly. What have you been doing lately?”

“Oh nothing much. I’ve been helping people out of this world, into the next, etc. You?”

“I’ve been traveling, going global actually. Attempting to keep you within your limits. I knew you’d turn up at her bedside sooner or later.” We simultaneously turned to look down at the pale face of Maria Andelusia, a soldier in an unwinnable war against her cancer. She was unpeacefully asleep, and rocked a bit in bed while the monitors whistled around her. 

“I came to save her.” I said, stroking her arm. It wasn’t very romantic though, as the moment I did the machines screamed; I had to pull back my hand quickly to avoid any permanent effect.

“Save her from what, Death. Pain? Agony? Fear? It’s too late for that- you’re always too late.”

“Some say I’m always too early.”

“Your window for helping her is past. Her treatment’s almost done. To take her now would be, how do you say…” He twiddled his fingers, trying to grasp the words, “wasting the effort. How would the nurses feel for failing? How hurt would her family be to know she was gone?”

“The world is full of pain and suffering- what’s one more?” I glared at him, trying to keep calm. “She begs for me. She yearns for the release. So step aside, and let me help her.”

“It’s not the proper time- you of all people should know that, Death. And you’re wrong. She doesn’t beg for you...She begs for me. For more time, more time with her family and friends, more time in the sunshine, more time knitting quietly on the porch at nightfall. More time at the Jersey Shore, beachcombing, and more time talking to her husband. More time to fix her mistakes.”

“Maria has no mistakes, none that she didn’t already atone for. She has suffered enough, and more time is the last thing she wants.” 

We stood opposite each other, one on each side of the bed- two immovable forces pushing against each other for control. I’d never been friends with Time, and the rift had worsened as we got older, older and wiser. He thought he was so great, with his force-of-destiny attitude, and his ability to mature things and change things. But I changed people too, and both of us were nothing but servants to the Higher Power, nothing but tools. No matter how important Time thought he was, we were equals. I couldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t weaken me. At least, he couldn't when I had my scythe- why, why had I left it in the alley?

“The sooner you stop letting your emotions control your work, the better. You’re always so, so, impulsive. It doesn’t matter to you who’s on the list to die- you play favorites, and try to weed out the bad apples, but that’s not how it works. You’ve unleveled the playing field, and it’ll come back to bite you someday. She isn’t at your door yet, Death, so leave. No one wants you here.”

“No one wants you here either- if I had a nickel for every time someone said they wished time would just stop, especially in a hospital, I’d be richer than all the Earth’s monarchs put together. And you know why? Because you don’t care about anyone. You just go on, like a clock, mechanically, heartlessly, marching on, doing your job with all the feeling of a stone wall. I’m not leaving. I’m going to save her. Because. I. Care.”

“So. Do. I.”

More silent glaring. Time paused, like he was about to speak, but it died on his lips. He didn’t really care. How could he? Time never cared about anyone, and he definitely didn’t care about this dying woman from a small town. He never used his emotions- sometimes I wondered if he even had them. 

But the way he looked at her at that moment told me that I was completely wrong. The way his eyes softly traveled up her body to her face, and were relaxed, like he was actually sad for her. Or worried for her. Or-

“No.” I breathed. “You can’t- this is ridiculous. You don’t-”

“I can, and I do. I love her. Why do you think I’m here? Because I wanted to see my dear old enemy?”

“Wanted to stop your enemy more like it-” It all made sense now. Why he cared so much. Why he hadn’t tried to fight me yet, afraid that I’d accidentally touch her if he pushed me in the right direction. He was worried I would take her away from him- literally and metaphorically. He was standing his ground- my ground- so I couldn’t have her. This wasn’t about emotions and duty, wasn’t like the other times- this was about jealousy. 

He was afraid of me. 

“You’re the one who needs to let go- it’ll never work between you.” I glared at him, my hand outstretched over her as a threat. Time twitched, but quickly regained his pallid calm.

“I’ve got a better chance than you have.”

“Sooner or later I’ll have to come around; she’s only human, after all...They die. That’s what they do. And you’ll just keep living, not a care in the world, going, going, going, and she’ll be gone. Even if I give up and leave you alone, there is such a thing as death from old age.”

“Death,” Time sat down in the armchair, suddenly relaxed. “You’ve seen a lot of old people in your life. But do you know the funny thing about aging?”

I shrugged. “You’re supposed to be the expert.”

He whipped up and before I could move, had his sickle around her neck. With it on her, she was protected from the other powers- Death, Sickness, Injury. We all had some kind of relic protecting us from the others- and Time was using his on her. “It takes time.”

“Fair comeback..” But then it hit me. She wasn’t aging, even thought Time had his sickle on her. She looked as normal as ever. I breathed “Why isn’t she...”

“Aging? Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot.” He took the sickle back onto his belt and sauntered over to me; quick as a whip he kicked me to the ground, planting his foot on my ribcage. Every breath became heavier- I’d always been scrawny, deficit, bony, but it had never been this much of a disadvantage. Scrabbling, gasping, glaring, I kept trying to get up. I scraped at the floor frantically, desperately trying to get up. Every try was harder than the last. 

“Unlike you, little brother, who can’t control his own strength, I can switch my powers on and off. I can just... not affect her. And that’s what makes us different, Death. While I can afford to be choosy, you never will be. Because if you could choose, no one would be safe, would they? No one would be alive.”

I gasped for air. He was increasing the pressure. The weight on my chest grew and grew, like a thousand pounds of rock were being lowered onto me bit by  it. It was like the pressure of being in a coffin, buried below the surface, and the earth pushes down, down, down, and the air slowly gets harder to breathe and the darkness gets louder and louder….

“Oh, did someone misplace his scythe recently? I can’t believe you didn’t bring it with you, though I guess when you can’t control yourself, you don’t need a certain instrument to kill people…”

He couldn’t kill me, and he knew it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t torture me. The power dynamic had shifted the second he realized I was defenseless. 

“Let’s make a deal Death.” the pressure relaxed a little. “I’ll let you go. Let you get your scythe, and leave. But you have to promise me you’ll never kill off the list again. Stick to your orders, and we’ll be… friendly enemies. Frenemies, even.”

Not a chance. It was a strain, every word. But I was going to tell him exactly what I wanted. “You’re the one---going off-script; the one-- going--rogue!” 

He slammed his foot back onto me with all his weight.

“Did you or did you not get instructions to kill Maria?!”

“Why---does that-- matter?!” The pain was still increasing. Bones creaked and then cracked, organs popped. My airway was going to break sooner or later. But I still wouldn’t die. I still wouldn’t die. I still wouldn’t die.

I couldn’t die- I could only live.

“Tell me!”

Maria was being wheeled into another room. No…. I thought. No…  he’d been right. I was too late this time. I wanted to save her. I wanted to save her the one way I knew how. To love her the one way I knew how. To kill her mercifully, instead of letting her live a life of torture and pain. 

Even though I hadn’t been told to kill her.

“Who’s rogue now?”