* * *

Coup d'état
by afrai

* * *

Time works differently in the House of Death.

In fact, it would be more accurate to say that it doesn't work at all. What replaces it is a kind of recycled time. This is time that doesn't operate by the same rules as the kind of time humans live by. This time doesn't pass: it passes by. Again and again and again.

Humans can exist in this faux time -- Albert had been doing it for what would have looked like two thousand years in the outside world -- but technically, they can't live in it. They can't grow. They can't change or develop, not really ...

Technically, the rules were being broken.

* * *

In some present

The tea cup clinked against the saucer. In keeping with the decor of the house, both cup and saucer bore a sprightly pattern of withered black flowers.

"All right," said Susan. "You said last time you'd explain what was going on."

Death seemed uncomfortable.

YES, he said. WELL.

"Granddad."

SHE IS GETTING ON WELL, DON'T YOU THINK? tried Death. I WONDER IF YOU WOULD TAKE A LOOK AT HER MATHEMATICS. SHE SEEMS TO BE HAVING DIFFICULTY WITH LONG DIVISION --

"She's getting older," hissed Susan. "The last time I was here was two weeks ago. She's grown a year since then. Her reading level's skipped three! Her height -- well, all right, her height hasn't changed much, but -- look, I've heard of growing too fast, but this is ridiculous!"

IT'S A YEAR AND A HALF, ACTUALLY, said Death.

"What?"

SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS NINE AND A HALF YESTERDAY.

"Yesterday," said Susan flatly. Death had the grace to sound embarrassed.

FOR LACK OF A BETTER WORD, he said.

"She's growing," said Susan. "I know you're not doing it. This isn't your style. It's too messy."

I BELIEVE ... I DO NOT KNOW FOR CERTAIN, YOU UNDERSTAND, said Death. BUT I BELIEVE AS MUCH TIME PASSES AS SHE DESIRES.

"That's what I mean! You can't tell me that's right for a girl her species! Humans aren't made for this kind of messing around with time!"

Death stared down at his tea.

"Granddad," said Susan. "What's going on?"

* * *

At ten

Rukia glared around at the snow-covered rooftop.

"When you said 'slay', I thought you meant 'slay'," she said. "Where is the slaughter? -- O Harvester of Men."

I MEANT 'SLEIGH', said Death patiently. IT'S HOGSWATCHNIGHT. HOGSWATCHNIGHT IS NOT FOR SLAUGHTER. IT IS A TIME WHEN PEOPLE ARE JOLLY, AND PUT UP HOLLY. AND OTHER THINGS ENDING IN 'OLLY'. SUSAN DID EXPLAIN IT TO YOU, DID SHE NOT?

"She said it is a holiday for humans," said Rukia. She was peering around the roof as if still hoping to see a dead body, or at least a slash of red on the snow. In a ten-year-old girl wearing a jolly red hat with a white bobble, this was a somewhat unnerving expression. "It is not for such as us. Why are we here, Great Swallower of Oceans?"

IT IS A FAVOUR FOR A FRIEND, said Death. BESIDES, I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE NICE FOR YOU TO SEE THE FESTIVITIES FOR ONCE. ALBERT DOES HIS BEST, BUT HE SAYS THE HOGSWATCH SPIRIT CANNOT REALLY BE CONVEYED BY BLACK HOLLY AND STOCKINGS WITH A SKULL MOTIF.

He hesitated. There were things you did not say to Rukia, if only because it would be a waste of energy. Rukia operated by different rules from everyone else. Not everything said to her in the outside world managed to make it across the gap to the reality in her head.

YOU ARE HUMAN, YOU KNOW, he said finally.

Rukia did not answer. She had dived into the Hogfather's sack. The tiny sounds of her rummaging rustled on the night air to where Death stood beside the chimney.

He was not frowning, because a skeleton is naturally handicapped when it comes to these things, but there was a definite suggestion of a frown to him as he gazed at the feet protruding from the sack.

Death prided himself on being good at his job, something which came naturally to a being who was basically the personification of his job. But parenting was proving to be fuller of hidden pitfalls than he'd expected. He'd done this once before, and while he hadn't been the best father in the world -- or outside it, if you wanted to be accurate about it -- he'd figured experience would help him the second time around. He'd decided it would go right this time.

It did seem to be going right. Rukia was healthy, precocious, and relatively well-adjusted considering her eccentric upbringing. And surprisingly well-behaved -- that was Susan's influence, of course. And yet ...

Everything was going right. Death just wasn't sure whose idea of right it was. He had a sneaking feeling it wasn't his.

RUKIA? as he said, just as his daughter popped out of the red sack.

"Serenity Belladonna Wouldbegood, of 21, Short Street," she said.

WHAT?

"She has been naughty this year," said Rukia, in the tone of one who has pondered long and hard on the matter. "Strike her off the list. She is undeserving."

ARE YOU HIDING SOMETHING BEHIND YOUR BACK?

"A pity the sack does not have coal," said Rukia reflectively. She brightened. "We could put snow in her stocking!"

RUKIA, said Death. PUT CHAPPY THE FRIENDLY BUNNY (R) BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT.

Rukia drooped.

"I bet she did something naughty," she said, as the stuffed rabbit disappeared back into the bowels of the sack.

Death forbore to point out that Rukia herself was hardly free from sin.

THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS HOLIDAY, he said. IN THIS SEASON, LAPSES ARE FORGIVEN. ENDINGS ARE HAPPY. CHILDREN RECEIVE GIFTS TO WARM THEIR LITTLE HEARTS.

"Yuk," said Rukia. "Don't be disgusting. O True Friend to the Poor."

Death hauled out the sack. He did not sigh, not having lungs to sigh out of, but he managed a noise that sounded remarkably like it all the same.

I WISH YOU WOULD NOT CALL ME THOSE THINGS.

"What else should I call you?"

DADDY WOULD BE NICE, ventured Death.

"That would not be polite," said Rukia freezingly.

AH, said Death. THERE IS THAT, I SUPPOSE.

* * *

In the present

SHE IS STRONG-WILLED, said Death.

"So was my mother," said Susan. "So was I, come to that. Neither of us could have manipulated time the way she's doing. Or was doing. Or will be doing. Granddad. Where did you get her from?"

NOBODY ELSE WANTED HER.

"She shouldn't -- " Susan pressed her forehead with a hand, then dropped it. She tried again. "It's not healthy. Not having any friends her age, getting her priorities in life all wrong ... "

* * *

At twelve

"Huh," said Rukia, when the group of young Assassins had passed.

Susan looked down at Rukia, though the child was so laden down with shopping bags it was hard to actually see anything of her. Susan didn't usually allow Rukia this much licence -- Death spoilt her enough, if only out of simple bewilderment -- but she'd behaved herself well on this outing, and when they'd passed the display of discounted rabbit-adorned stationery, Susan hadn't had the heart to say no.

Rukia had insisted on carrying the bags herself. Susan would be prouder of this if she didn't suspect Rukia had insisted mostly out of a knee-jerk dislike of letting anybody else near her possessions.

"They don't impress you?" said Susan. "I would've thought you'd approve of the job."

Rukia looked disdainful.

"Poseurs," she said. "They're just playing at it."

Susan caught a shopping bag before it disgorged its contents and hefted it up, letting Rukia re-adjust her grip.

"Then what do you want to be when you grow up?" Susan said.

"Death," said Rukia.

* * *

In the present

"I love her too," said Susan. "You know that. But she doesn't belong here. It isn't right. It's bad for her.

"And for the fabric of reality," she added, as an afterthought. "But especially for her."

* * *

At fifteen

Rukia had been thirteen the first time she drew Death's sword from its usual place in the umbrella stand. She tried the scythe as well, weighing it in her hand and enjoying the fizz of air molecules sliced in half, but she liked the sword better.

It had felt right in her hand. More right than anything else, ever.

She drew it now. The blue glow lit her pale face from below, casting wrong-way shadows.

"Hello?" said the old man in the bed. "Is that ... you?"

"It's me," she said dreamily to her sword. "Death."

This was what she was born to do. It had to be, no matter what Susan said about teaching and nursing and even exciting careers in the Watch. It couldn't feel this perfect, as though it was her destiny, as though her whole life had been leading up to this one thing, if she wasn't meant to do it.

Right?

"You're a little shorter than I expected you to be," said the wizard. "And, er. More female."

"You're thinking of my father," said Rukia. "I'm standing in for him for the time being."

She brought the sword down.

* * *

In the present

I DO NOT WISH ... said Death to his tea cup. SHE IS MY DAUGHTER.

"That's why," said Susan. "That makes it even more important, don't you see? You're responsible. You took her in."

I HAVE DONE MY BEST FOR HER, said Death.

"I think," said Susan, "you have to let her go."

Death didn't look up. And then he did.

Susan's heart dropped.

NO, he said. IT IS NOT SAFE.

"It's not safe to keep her either," said Susan. "You don't even know what she is!"

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND, said Death. IT IS NOT SAFE. HERE, I CAN PROTECT HER.

"How do you know she'll always stay here?" said Susan, but she knew it was a losing battle.

* * *

Somewhere else

Imagine nothing, if you will.

Of course, you won't. It's impossible to imagine nothing. It's nothing. To aid the process, then, imagine nothing ...

Clothed in grey robes, hanging in space, watching the Discworld fail to go round, and getting very annoyed.

One said, who is this?

One said, she changes things.

One said, she is wrong. She does not belong here.

One said, he's always messing things up. I for one am sick and tired for the whole business.

One said, you said 'I'.

One said, what? Don't be silly, of course I didn't, I wouldn't say a ridiculous thing like 'I' -- oh shit.

One vanished. One popped into existence, radiating smug disapproval.

One said, it is he who introduced this element of chaos?

One said, where did he get her from?

One said, she is not from here. She should not be here.

One said, she must be neutralised.

One said, how?

One said, there is an idea ...

* * *

In the present

"Or she'll go," said Susan. "She'll go herself one day, if you don't let go of her first. You know she will. It always happens."

THEN IT WILL BE HER DECISION, said Death. BUT SHE WILL ALWAYS HAVE A PLACE HERE.

"Oh, Granddad," said Susan. She looked tired. "No, she doesn't. She doesn't have a place here. She never did."

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