HEY WAIT NO I WASN'T DONE YET MY BAD

Death is a master of waiting. In the beginning of their time walking the plains of the Earth's surface there was not much for them to do, as the population then was small and easily managed. Though the concept of time is as foreign to them as anything could be, they do try to keep to it for the sake of their filing system. Said system may have just composed of a stack of papers haphazardly towering on a desk, but you didn't hear that.

It is because of their adherence to the progress of time, that Death actually finds time for themself, to do with as they please. This may or may not be a good thing, as in all honesty they don't really have any hobbies or friends. Not that they much care for either, but the lack of options still irritates them as they sit and wait.

But the passage of hours, months, days, and years does not matter to them. Because Death is infinite, and they have all the time in the world.

So they wait and they wander, exploring the world as it grows and morphs around their unchanging self. They walk the Plains of Abraham and sail with the fated space expedition Challenger. They stand upon the mud of No Man's Land, a dark silhouette against the yellow of mustard gas, all as the world keeps spinning on and on and on and on.

They are everywhere and nowhere, constantly a presence but hardly noticed as they wander the streets of Pompeii and slink along the alleyways of Hiroshima. Along the way they pick up an affinity for chess, which ironically becomes one of the human's favourite things to say about them.

"He likes games," The mortals say, hushed whispering on the edges of consciousness, "He likes a challenge."

In all honesty, Death has no clue whether they're a he, she, or an it, but in all honesty they don't care much. They do appreciate a challenge, true, but it is not as if winning will gain the souls anything as Death is simply the messenger, not the cause, and has no say in the final result.

They meander along the times, eventually taking to hopping along the timeline to random points in their spare time. They view the signing of the Decoration of Independence, passively watch master Poe scribble down his Ravens, and the first spark of Edison's light flicker into existence, all in the span of what the mortals would call two hours.

They are unseen in all of their excursions, no matter the age of passerby, as Death is as old as the Moon, and had been reaping Manny's creation's ancestors before Manny had even really gotten himself any power. Death is not a guardian, in any sense of the word, they're more of a currier if anything.

They do their work, hopping from world to world, a Sheppard with a scythe in place of a crook. They gather the souls and ferry them to their final homes, passive but understanding. Some resist their fates, running and trying to hide, but Death is a patient hunter with more time to wait than there are grains of sand on a beach.

And the world keeps spinning.

The Skeletal Sheppard works at their pace, diligently for countless eons. They gather and sort and place and challenge, and on three or four occasions they send someone back out into the world for another shot at life.

Death passes through billions of faces, lives, and people a day, but he always remembers the ones he sends back.

Jackson Overland Frost would be one of them.

But even within this select group, the child is special.

When Jackson gets the amazing idea to die and force Death from his schedule, the original feeling coursing through their skull is annoyance. If at the Man in the Moon or the child, they don't know, but the feeling is there.

Death is expecting the same routine they have run through with every soul that sits in what they like to call the Waiting Room, the standard fear and horror and the verbal onslaught of why am I here what did I do etc, etc. But Jackson does not deliver on the standard, and instead takes his own route.

And, ironically enough, as they sit and play the silly little card game and gossip like old women, Death feels so very alive as tiny Jackson Overland shows not a bit of fear in their presence. It's a strange and invigorating feeling, and they're honestly saddened at it's end, as the child is sucked back into the mortal realm through water and cold.

And Death knows that Jack Frost has been born.

They casually pick up the boy's paper, barely larger than a sticky note, and read through it. Three hundred years solitude, ouch, that's going to hurt, they muse. Save the world from total darkness, quite nice, save Death the workload, good on him. The paper will only grow as time goes on, as it only contains the set information as of that time, currently of which there was very little. As more and more options are taken, paths chosen, and choices made, the file will grow and morph. But that is for time and time alone to work on.

They take to wandering again, watching the Library of Alexandria burn, the Romans crash and implode, calmly regarding as kings are crowned and dethroned, leaders elected and murdered, it's all in a day's work.

Death does not see Jack Frost again until the fifteenth of April, 1912, at around midnight.

It's a pity, really, the Titanic was such a lovely little ship, good and hardy.

Unfortunate placing, as well, as they do so hate getting wet. Does a horrible number on cloaks, not to mention the water usually knocking one or five ribs around without their consent isn't exactly fun.

But hey, it's a living.

They only begin to gather the souls, which is a slow process as each person takes their damn time drowning because it's not like we're on a schedule here people good god, when Death hears an anguished screaming coming from nearby.

Screaming is not an unusual thing to hear in his presence, and in truth Death has just grown used to hearing so much that it fades to background static, much like an unpleasant smell that lingers despite any and all efforts to try to eradicate it.

But this scream is special, because they have heard that voice before.

Jackson Overland-Frost, they recall, striding towards their fellow immortal and scooping up wayward souls on the way. It had been quite a while since their paths had crossed, but Death knows that Jack will not remember their meeting, as the Moon had wiped his memories to keep the child from going mad.

Ah, well, introductions are always fun to those who don't get to make many.

The child in question is watching the ship sink from the safety of a nearby iceberg, face contorted in horror. Death silently walks up next to him, long cloak dragging in the snow behind them, and stabs their scythe down into the ice with a thwack to announce their presence.

"Well." They say calmly, "Somebody has given me quite a bit of work for the next few days." It's nonchalant, like discussing the weather because to Death it really was at this point. The screams of the dying carry over the air, accompanied by the splashing of those already in the water and the sinking boat.

Jack looks up into the inky black where Death's face should be, tears in his eyes and frozen on his face, and he says with a quivering voice, "I was just playing, this wasn't supposed to happen!"

The Sheppard simply nods, pausing to crouch and pluck a rather small soul, probably that of a child, from the water, before finally saying that, "Well, it's not exactly me you should be apologizing to, but hey whatever floats your boa- oh wait, bad analogy."

The last bit is crude and too soon, but the appalled look on the kid's face is way too good to pass up. Death can't laugh, because laughing is not exactly good for the ol' ribcage, and it usually knocks their jaw out of place if they do it for too long.

But it's totally worth it.

Death honestly wants to help Jack, they do, but they also know that Manny would be angry if they did. In retrospect maybe that should be another reason to do it, but this part of the kid's timeline is set and can't be changed.

Time may be nothing more than a concept to Death, but to everyone else it was solid and tangible, which was annoying but what can you do?

Jack remains silent, watching the boat crumble and the water suck people down into the inky black, one by one. Death idly wonders if this may trigger his memories, but when the kid just stares at the water vacantly that theory goes out the window.

"Well, not that this hasn't been fun, but I've got a job, boring as it is, that needs doing." Death says calmly, jostling their scythe from the ice with a harsh tug, before turning around and heading back towards the water to finish their work.

"Wait!" Jack calls after them, "Who are you?"

The question hurts, but they don't blame the child for a fortune the moon wrote for him, so they simply turn around and say, "You already know." Before continuing their work. After a stunned silence the wind flares, and Jack Frost has left.

The souls of 1514 are collected that night. Not the most they've collected in one go, but certainly a substantial amount.

And the world keeps spinning on and on and on and on.

The two of them meet once or twice more, but in truth Death keeps half an eye on the kid from afar, just because. They have nothing better to do, it's sad but true. They keep him from hurting too many people, subtly nudge him towards the best choice for him, and if Death slightly alters the boy's fate to give him as good an afterlife as possible, what of it? Kid damn deserved it.

And if Pitch Black never preys on the kid before the Guardians got involved due to fear of getting on their bad side, then what of it?

They retake to wandering. Watch as bombs are invented and set off. Regards society's crumble. Their wanderings take a backseat, however, once a war breaks out that has a death toll in the billions because crap that's a lot of work.

Death watches as Jack rises to amazing heights, becomes a Guardian, and regains his memories, but doesn't contact the child. Death is a backseat player, and Frost would come to them eventually so why not wait?

After all, they have all the time in the world, even as the world keeps spinning on and on and on, and Death is a master of waiting.

A/N: WHOOPS DID I SAY ONESHOT I MEANT TWOSHOT SHHHHH. But really, I forgot to add this to the last chapter, but thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! To those who reviewed, you are amazing and I love each and every one of you! *casually slinks back to her corner*