Ficlet: Still Alive
Title: Still Alive
Fandoms: Criminal Minds/Discworld
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Hotch, DEATH; gen
Summary: Today was not Hotch's day.
Warning: crack, all-caps dialogue
Author's Notes: written for xoverland for the Crime Show challenge.
Hotch had been involved in a number of shootings before, but none as weird as this.
Their suspect pulled a gun, and one of the more nervous cops on the scene fired at him. The suspect fired back, hitting Hotch in the chest with a bullet.
While his bulletproof vest protected him, Hotch was still knocked back by the force of it.
AARON HOTCHNER? a voice called, and Hotch looked up to see that everyone was frozen in place except for a tall, skeletal figure in a black robe. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO COME WITH ME.
"What?" Hotch asked.
YOU ARE DECEASED, Death told him.
Hotch checked himself for wounds, but didn't find any. Death prodded Hotch’s foot gently with his scythe, which didn't really help matters. “Be careful with that thing.”
HM. THERE SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN SOME SORT OF MIX-UP. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE CONFUSION.
“Mix-up? I’m either dead or I’m not, how confusing could it be?”
YOU HUMANS ALWAYS FIND WAYS OF MAKING THINGS MORE CONFUSING THAN THEY SHOULD BE.
“Happens often, does it?” Hotch asked drily.
EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, Death admitted. MORE OFTEN IN THIS UNIVERSE THAN IN SOME OTHERS. THE SYSTEM HERE STILL HAS SOME KINKS THAT NEED TO BE WORKED OUT.
Hotch shut his eyes, certain he was imaging thing. He reopened them to find Death leaning over him, and he jumped.
I WAS NOT TRYING TO STARTLE YOU, Death said, as though he were worried about offending Hotch. I HAVE BEEN CONSIDERING PUTTING BELLS ON MY SCYTHE. SO THAT PEOPLE CAN HEAR ME COMING.
“Aren’t you supposed to catch people off-guard?” Hotch asked.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHEN I AM COMING FOR YOU. THIS DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE CAUGHT OFF-GUARD.
Hotch decided he was hallucinating, at which point, there was really no reason to over think the conversation too much. "You know, Benjamin Franklin once said that 'In this world, nothing can be said to be certain but death and taxes'. No offense, but you don't seem very certain of anything."
I HAVE HEARD THAT PARTICULAR COMMENT BEFORE. ALTHOUGH, FOR SOMEONE WHO CALLED ME A CERTAINTY, HE SEEMED RATHER SURPRISED WHEN HE MET ME.
“Most people don’t actually expect Death to look like you.”
Death looked down at himself in bewilderment. BUT I MATCH THE TRADITIONAL DESCRIPTIONS OF THE GRIM REAPER.
“Exactly. You're too cliché to be true.”
Death considered this for a moment. AH. IT IS SOME SORT OF JOKE, THEN?
It still seemed strange to Hotch, feeling sorry for Death. Of course, he was still getting used to the idea of having a conversation with Death at all.
"Something like that."
YOU SHALL HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT TO ME FURTHER, Death said, turning away. NEXT TIME WE MEET.
"Don't rush back on my account," Hotch told him, before falling back on the ground.
"Time to take some medical leave," he muttered, as the world restored itself around him.
Fandoms: Criminal Minds/Discworld
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Hotch, DEATH; gen
Summary: Today was not Hotch's day.
Warning: crack, all-caps dialogue
Author's Notes: written for xoverland for the Crime Show challenge.
Hotch had been involved in a number of shootings before, but none as weird as this.
Their suspect pulled a gun, and one of the more nervous cops on the scene fired at him. The suspect fired back, hitting Hotch in the chest with a bullet.
While his bulletproof vest protected him, Hotch was still knocked back by the force of it.
AARON HOTCHNER? a voice called, and Hotch looked up to see that everyone was frozen in place except for a tall, skeletal figure in a black robe. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO COME WITH ME.
"What?" Hotch asked.
YOU ARE DECEASED, Death told him.
Hotch checked himself for wounds, but didn't find any. Death prodded Hotch’s foot gently with his scythe, which didn't really help matters. “Be careful with that thing.”
HM. THERE SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN SOME SORT OF MIX-UP. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE CONFUSION.
“Mix-up? I’m either dead or I’m not, how confusing could it be?”
YOU HUMANS ALWAYS FIND WAYS OF MAKING THINGS MORE CONFUSING THAN THEY SHOULD BE.
“Happens often, does it?” Hotch asked drily.
EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE, Death admitted. MORE OFTEN IN THIS UNIVERSE THAN IN SOME OTHERS. THE SYSTEM HERE STILL HAS SOME KINKS THAT NEED TO BE WORKED OUT.
Hotch shut his eyes, certain he was imaging thing. He reopened them to find Death leaning over him, and he jumped.
I WAS NOT TRYING TO STARTLE YOU, Death said, as though he were worried about offending Hotch. I HAVE BEEN CONSIDERING PUTTING BELLS ON MY SCYTHE. SO THAT PEOPLE CAN HEAR ME COMING.
“Aren’t you supposed to catch people off-guard?” Hotch asked.
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHEN I AM COMING FOR YOU. THIS DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE CAUGHT OFF-GUARD.
Hotch decided he was hallucinating, at which point, there was really no reason to over think the conversation too much. "You know, Benjamin Franklin once said that 'In this world, nothing can be said to be certain but death and taxes'. No offense, but you don't seem very certain of anything."
I HAVE HEARD THAT PARTICULAR COMMENT BEFORE. ALTHOUGH, FOR SOMEONE WHO CALLED ME A CERTAINTY, HE SEEMED RATHER SURPRISED WHEN HE MET ME.
“Most people don’t actually expect Death to look like you.”
Death looked down at himself in bewilderment. BUT I MATCH THE TRADITIONAL DESCRIPTIONS OF THE GRIM REAPER.
“Exactly. You're too cliché to be true.”
Death considered this for a moment. AH. IT IS SOME SORT OF JOKE, THEN?
It still seemed strange to Hotch, feeling sorry for Death. Of course, he was still getting used to the idea of having a conversation with Death at all.
"Something like that."
YOU SHALL HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT TO ME FURTHER, Death said, turning away. NEXT TIME WE MEET.
"Don't rush back on my account," Hotch told him, before falling back on the ground.
"Time to take some medical leave," he muttered, as the world restored itself around him.