Author's Notes: Wow, I haven't updated this story in a while. I guess I've been trying to redo this chapter, but I've never gotten around to it, so I guess it'll have to work. Reading over During Death, I realize that it's much shorter than I'd thought it was. It sure felt quite a bit longer when I was writing it! I hope it's not too fast paced.

Anyhow, I now have an actual plotline and idea of where I'm going, so I can promise that some canon characters pop up in here, as well as a few very interesting OCs (think anthropomorphic personifications!). I think I'm going to dump all of these guys pretty soon, mostly because I'm now Mary-Sue paranoid and Teatime's going to be joining the land of the living shortly. But we're going to have tons of fun, I promise. And, as always, if you have any requests or suggestions, just PM or review me. I promise to take it seriously! (oh, and if you haven't voted on the pole up on my profile, please do. It's just for kicks)

DURING DEATH

Teatime's Adventures in the Afterlife

CHAPTER SIX

Who Knows Whodunnit?

"L..." she stammered. "L..." she tried. "L..."

Mara couldn't finish the world 'look' and helplessly held up the bloody sailor's cap instead.

"Where did you find that?" Teatime asked, cocking his head.

"Ov..." she attempted. "Th..."

Mara couldn't quite manage to say 'over there', or even just 'there', so she pointed frantically off to the distance a bit.

"Was there a body?"

"N... n..." she made a frustrated face and then shook her head emphatically.

"Funny," Teatime mused. "Were there any signs of violence?"

"Y..." she gave up right away and nodded.

"A weapon?"

Mara shook her head.

"Blood, perhaps?"

She nodded.

"I see... perhaps the body was dragged? Was the blood leaving a trail of sorts?"

She shook her head.

"Hmm. This is quite a mystery, then."

Nate came out of the cottage with a broad grin, holding up a box of cookies triumphantly.

"I just knew that they'd be – HOLY &#^!" he called in shock.

"Yeah," Mara finally managed. "Holy &#^."

"That the sailor's?"

"Probably," Teatime piped cheerfully. Amarinthe cast him an odd glance.

"Huh. Is he dead?" Nate asked.

"We don't know yet," the Assassin explained regretfully.

"Want a cookie?"

"I've never much cared for chocolate chocolate chip biscuits; are there any plain ones?" he inquired curiously.

Amarinthe let out a long, low breath.

"Rhett could be dead. Bloody dead. AND YOU'RE BLOODY BOTH BLOODY DISCUSSING BLOODY COOKIES BLOODY WHEN HIS BLOODY BLOOD IS COVERING THE BLOODY WELL BLOODY HAT?" she called angrily. Her eyes searched wildly for something more to say. "BLOODY!"

"I did not realize that there was that much gore involved," Teatime said thoughtfully. "I am sorry you had to see such a thing."

He didn't really get it, but some people had troubles looking at mutilated corpses. It was a funny phenomenon. Wait... there wasn't a corpse. Perhaps she simply liked the way the bloody word bloody sounded.

"Do you want a cookie?" Nate offered(1).

She pursed her lips and turned on her heel, heading towards the apple tree.

"I'm going back and waiting for Cree!" Mara called, not bothering to turn around.

"What's her trouble?" Nathaniel wondered.

"I'm not certain," Teatime shrugged. "But on second thought, I think I will have one."

"Here, help yourself."

"Why thank you."

The Assassin caught up to the girl with a few quick steps and reality bypassing, and started rapidly stepping backwards while facing her. She raised a brow.

"Don't walk off a cliff, you. I don't want to be finding more blood."

"Don't worry about me," he replied cheerfully. "I'm always very careful."

"Right," Mara replied skeptically, glancing over exactly what he was doing.

"Exactly!" he chimed. Sarcasm just wasn't part of Teatime's radar, though he has been known to use it on rare (rare) occasion. He cocked his head curiously. "You look rather unsettled."

"I just found a bloody cap. I can't find a sailor. What'd you think I'd be?" she asked, sounding thoroughly distraught.

"Curious?"

"Are you serious?" she called in disbelief. "Seriously serious?"

"We're already dead, Mara," Teatime replied with a shrug. "I'm sure he'll pop up."

"I don't know what to think anymore," she replied, finally reaching the tree. Esther was in sight as she came up to the group, and she tilted her head oddly at the hat, her mouth a firm line.

"What happened here, young lady?" the old lady asked seriously.

"I found this over that way," Mara explained, pointing off towards the golden grass.

"Was there a body?" Esther asked.

Amarinthe made a face.

"I really don't want to have to go over this again... Teatime's already interrogated me."

The Assassin shook his head brightly.

"Oh, no, that wasn't interrogating," he chirped cheerfully with a friendly smile. "If I ever have to interrogate you, you'll know beyond doubt that that's what I'm doing."

Mara wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Yesterday she would have laughed, but she was beginning to think that he might actually be completely serious. Teatime seemed odder and odder the more she got to know him. At least he was polite.

"I'll keep that in mind," she managed.

Will I, now? I'm not scared of you,Teatime, the Assassin heard echo in his mind. That's what Susan would have said. This girl, however, was most definitely not Susan. And she pronounced his name correctly. It was so very nice of her to do that; she really was the only human he knew to consistently say it. Never once had Mara called him 'teatime'. It was unspeakably refreshing. Susan always called him 'teatime'.

"Anyhow," Amarinthe continued, "no, there wasn't a body. There wasn't a weapon. Just some bloody grass and this."

"It is odd," Esther mused, "that it would be his hat to collect the blood. What kind of wound could cause that? A hit to the head, maybe? Not likely to be a stabbing in that location, since there isn't a rip in the fabric." She nodded in confirmation. "Yes, I'd think he was hit on the head, took off the hat to tend to the wound, and something else or another happened after that."

"Yeah, something else or another definitely did happen," Nate drawled sardonically (Teatime was the only one who'd noticed him coming) while he munched on his cookie. Suddenly, he remembered who he was talking to and paled. "…M'am," he added nervously. "Do you want a cookie?"

It was a lame fall back, but with the glare Esther was shooting at him he had to have some kind of peace offering. Unfortunately, the cookies were the only leverage he had.

"I'm not hungry," she replied sternly.

Nate gulped.

"Mara!" Cree called, hiking up towards her, his face and voice somewhere between relieved, happy, and infuriated. "Where on the disc were you?"

"I don't believe she was on the disc at all, Mr. von Iden," Teatime put in cheerfully.

Cree chose to ignore him, and the Assassin frowned. He didn't like being ignored.

"I went for a walk last night. There's a cottage not far off," she explained. Mara's brother turned very, very slowly Teatime's way, remembering how he had suggested just that had been the case when he'd freaked out about Mara's absence. He looked back to his sister and was just about to speak when he noticed the panic flow into her eyes as she began to continue. "And when I came back I found this, Cree – I found this!"

She held up Rhett's hat. Cree stared at it, dumbfounded.

"Um. Ordan – ?" he managed – barely.

"We don't know where he is," she answered when he couldn't continue. "He hasn't gotten back yet."

"Body – ?" Cree croaked.

"She didn't find one," Teatime put in cheerfully, having a hunch that Amarinthe wouldn't want to explain it again. "There was blood on the grass and on the hat, but nowhere else. There wasn't a weapon on the scene, either."

Mara shot him a grateful glance.

"What..." her brother stammered. "What-what could have happened?"

"Well, out of all of us," Nate drawled back, "you're the only one who threatened him."

A second or two later the miner's eyes flicked to Teatime, and the Assassin guessed he was remembering when he had sent him into Primordial Shock. Teatime grinned at him reassuringly, but in such a reassuring way as to say 'Oh, don't worry. I won't gut you ever so slowly because you're not going to say anything about what happened that first moment. So be reassured!'. Nate gulped.

For the first time, Amarinthe looked angry. Teatime had seen her agitated, exasperated, dismal, panicked, grief stricken, pleased, excited, and amused, but he had never seen her angry. She didn't look like Susan when Susan was angry, of that he was certain. As she whirled around on Nate, glaring at him, it wasn't such a glare that made you feel as if you'd be better off burning in hell (which probably wasn't too far away, considering where they all were) like Death's Granddaughter's fiery stare most definitely would. No, Amarinthe angry made the recipient of her dark emotion feel as if they were the lowest, most pitiful, disgusting worm ever to crawl in the dirt. It made you feel like you were a terrible person, someone who should disappear and never be born at all.

"How dare you!" she whispered, stalking up to him. She was petite and tiny against the burly man, but she looked up at him with no fear. "How dare you even think to insinuate that my brother would ever, ever do anything like that? How dare you?"

"Um..." Nathaniel was beginning to realize his mistake.

"He is one of the bravest, sweetest men ever to grace the disc. He had worked hard, and long, and he takes care of me. He is my brother and he is no murderer!"

Nate thought better of offering her a cookie.

Then she deflated, realizing everything she had said and stepping back slowly, losing her confidence and staring straight at the golden grass as she backed away. She looked up, and when she spoke it wasn't angry anymore, but it was determined as she shook her head slowly.

"I'm not taking it back."

"I'm afraid, deary," Esther replied, "that we can't check anyone off the suspect list just yet. Even I could have killed him. No one was with anyone at the time; Nate was supposedly sleeping, you were in that cottage, and everyone else was looking for you."

Mara took her brother's hand tightly without turning from the former judge. Cree seemed to be having a hard time looking at anything or anyone other than his shoes, a permanently shocked expression plastered to his face. Teatime remembered how he had noted that her brother needed time to adjust to surprising facts; he supposed that now was one of those times.

"We don't even know that he's dead. He could be fine. Maybe he cut his hand, bled a bunch, took off his hat and put it on the grass for unknown reasons. Maybe it was windy when he cut his hand. He could have been trying to keep his hat on, and the blood got on it then, and he couldn't keep it on, or..." Mara trailed off, glanced down, then looked back up. "Even if he was attacked, and we knew who did it, what would we go about doing? Chain them up in a cage of grass?"

"That's not a half bad idea..." Nate mused thoughtfully. Mara shot him a weak glare.

"The point I'm trying make is that there's nothing we could do if we knew who it was besides... er, 'exiling' them, and even then how would we do that?" she called.

Esther raised a brow.

"I am very emphatic when it comes to the administration of justice. I still believe that this matter should be looked into."

"By who?" Mara cried desperately. "We're all biased! We're all suspects!"

"That's why it can't be a lone job," Esther replied, "it'd have to be two. Oh, and we should never allow ourselves to be alone anymore. If we intend to go off with someone else for some unknown reason, let everyone else know where and with whom. We don't want to experience Rhett's fate ourselves." The old lady shook her head and sighed, smiling a tiny, sad smile. "I remember a day, long ago, when I was young, sharp, and strong on the case. I'd been a darn pretty thing, too. No aching back, just a quick wit and strong stride. No useless cane, either..." she closed her eyes thoughtfully, her smile growing the tiniest bit. "I was bold, and brave, and unafraid."

You aren't now? pretty much everyone there thought dryly.

"...I wasn't this weak old thing I am now."

Everyone (save Teatime) trembled to think of a younger, tougher Esther.

"...I'd had long, curly locks..."

And then it happened. A breeze blew by softly, the wind knocked about Ester's stray, white hair. She hadn't changed. She was, and somehow always had been, something else. She had a long, straight nose. She had plump, well defined, and blood red lips. Her skin was tan, her hair jet black and all curled up in the bun atop her head. She had one hell of a figure, and gone was her polka-dot dress. No, she wore a burgundy button up vest and long, canvas-like pants of the same shade. She pulled out a few pins so her hair was in a curling, ponytail mess and smiled as she stood up straight and glanced around.

"Ah, that's much better!" Esther said, stretching out. Her voice was strong and lively, full of both knowledge and youth. "No more aching back! Where was I before I went on my little escapade down memory lane?"

Nate's eyes were popping out of his head.

"I can't believe what happened to Rhett," Cree said slowly, having finally adjusted to that. He looked up and his face contorted in surprise. "Who are you?"

"You know darn well who I am, sonny!" Esther called harshly, hands on hips.

He blinked, and immediately went back into shock.

Amarinthe raised a brow.

"My my, what a young face you have," she said wryly with her arms crossed.

"How any girl could possibly mistake a wolf for her grandmother I'll never know," Teatime sighed, shaking his head. "Only a children's tale, I suppose!"

"Right!" Esther called. "Right. I'll be one of the investigators, since I was a judge previously."

Teatime grinned brilliantly.

"I was an Assassin, and have much experience with this sort of thing. I'd be most... glad to help you investigate, Esther."

She clapped in satisfaction.

"Good. Nate, Mara, Cree?"

The others looked up at her curiously.

"Um... you can sit and watch."

"There are so few of us," Mara pointed out. "Assigning 'investigators' doesn't even make sense. We might as well do it together. Who out of us has a motive beyond just randomly killing for the fun of it(2)?"

Teatime was barely able to hold back a gleeful laugh. Nate opened his mouth to say 'Cree', then immediately shut it. Amarinthe wasn't necessarily scary when she was angry, but she made one feel pretty awful about themselves and, being rather egotistical himself, he didn't want to have to deal with the blow to his bloated self-portrait.

Cree grumbled under his breath.

"Me. He liked my sister and we fought."

Mara squeezed his hand.

"Then there's Nate," Teatime chimed cheerfully. "You've all heard some of the arguments they got into. Then again, Mr. Burghog doesn't get along with many of us, does he?"

"I suppose I might have a motive," Mara sighed, "if I felt he was harassing me. But I didn't. I rather liked the attention... it made me feel special."

Teatime's brow furrowed slightly. He'd always felt that he himself was very special (let's face it; there isn't a more skilled Assassin alive. Er, or dead, either), and though he knew that most people weren't, he'd always thought that everyone else thought they were, too. For example, the most definitely average Nathaniel obviously thought himself rather grand. But what Mara said seemed to indicate that she thought herself... average, maybe? Perhaps he had been wrong to assume that others thought themselves special. Perhaps that was why they searched for romantic companionship; to make themselves feel as if they were something better than they thought they were(3).

"It wasn't you he was interested in, Mara," Cree said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "You're the only girl here, and he's a sailor goodness' sake! You could have been a cockeyed prima donna and you would have been the love of his life." He glanced at Esther. "Er, the only girl here. We've got another full grown, wise and witty lady, too," he added, hoping to make peace with that comment. The little old... er, now-extremely-hot-yet-still-over-ninety-years-old woman chuckled.

Mara chewed her lip softly, glancing downwards.

"You know, I was feeling very good about myself, Cree," she said softly.

"It doesn't look like myself or this other fellow here has a motive, but we can't be ruled out just yet," Esther said. "You never really know."

About now Teatime decided to stop paying attention. Things were getting rather boring. He'd expected events to pick up pace after a disappearance, not slow down. And there wouldn't be much time before that sailor came back and told everyone who had killed him. Then it'd just be a game of cat and mice. He'd probably make his garden a maze, then. It'd be exciting! But until then, he should probably find a way to work with what he had while he had it.

What could he do, though? It's not like he could make someone confess to a crime they hadn't committed.

Oh, yes he could!

The Assassin grinned, shifting from one foot to the other in excitement.

(1)He had, mistakenly, drawn the conclusion that the reason she was so upset was that he had offered one to Teatime and not her. Looking back, that was rather unkind and unfair of him to do. Not that he was normally kind or fair, but when there was yummy food involved, Nate could be almost pleasant, and forget any previously held grudges (thus his nonchalance around a man who had stabbed him).

(2)How was she supposed to know that that's exactly what happened? Only psychopaths do that, and Mara didn't quite realize that she was in company of one.

(3)Once again, he had come up with a reason for why romance was oh so pointless. You don't need a lover to feel good about yourself; no, you just have to be really, really good at inhuming people most brutally.