The airport was crowded. People surged around Lisa, jostling her and trying to push her in a hundred directions at once. It was hard to stand her ground in all the milling, but she did so while at the same time searching the crowd.

John was supposed to be on this flight. She had been excited about his coming home all week, and even now she had his homecoming present clutched in her hands.

Excitement bubbled inside her and made her want to dance. She pushed away the impulse, mostly because she could barely move let alone dance.

Lisa's eyes eagerly searched the faces coming towards her...and stopped. Excitement left her in a rush. Ice gripped her, rushing through her veins and freezing everything in its path. She felt the color go from her skin and the tremors in her hands as they began to shake. John's present fell to the floor unheeded.

What was he doing here?

Standing in front of the large viewing window was a tall, young-looking man in a very nice suit. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was staring right at her, a slight smile etched in his features.

Her heart felt like it had stopped. Her breath came in short, quick gasps. Her hands clenched into fists and then unclenched. It was impossible. He couldn't be here. Not now. Not him.

The man unfolded his arms and walked toward her, completely oblivious to the crowd, as if the other people in the terminal didn't even exist. Similarly, they ignored him. He seemed to pass right through people, not even sidestepping anyone. Lisa remembered this trick from her last encounter with the figure. He wasn't passing through them -- they were passing through him. They ignored him because they couldn't see him.

She wished she couldn't, either, for his visit could only mean one of two things. She didn't like the first, and she dreaded the second.

He reached her, and his smile widened. His greeting was filled with warmth, even if he didn't take her hand. "Hello, Lisa. It's been a long time."

"Not long enough," she muttered under her breath. A woman glanced at her as she passed, then shook her head and continued on. Lisa realized that this could get embarrassing very quickly if she wasn't careful.

"Let's go somewhere a little less crowded," the man suggested, gesturing toward a secluded alcove on the other side of the walkway. A bank of payphones lined the alcove, which would help mask their conversation.

Lisa cast another expectant look at the door to the walkway which led to John's plane. Her visitor followed her gaze and shook his head. "He's not on this flight." At her alarmed reaction, he continued: "He missed his connection in Boston. Your telephone rang not thirty seconds after you left your apartment. There will be a message waiting for you on your machine." Pretending to look at his watch, the man finished: "His new flight in won't even take off for another hour. Now aren't you glad I came? Without me to tell you this, you would have been worried sick."

She let out an exasperated grunt and hurried to the alcove, selecting the telephone farthest inside, away from prying eyes and ears. Seeing that the mysterious man was already there waiting for her, she picked up the receiver and put it against her ear. "Everything you just said could have been confirmed by airline personnel. Cut the shit, Mortimer. What do you want?"

"To complete our transaction, of course. Today is the deadline, if you'll pardon the pun."

It was true, she realized. Today was July 15th. Three years to the day.

"Time flies, doesn't it?" he mocked.

"You're here to take me, aren't you?"

"As agreed."

"I'm not ready," she argued. "John's coming home today. I haven't seen him since..." She trailed off, and her eyes widened. "You bastard!" she spit.

Mortimer chuckled. "Since you bargained for his life three years ago," he finished for her. "And I intend to collect this time."

"What if I refuse?" she asked defiantly. "What if I declare the contract null and void?"

This time, his laugh was more jubilant. "What contract? You agreed to cut your life short in exchange for his. As simple as that. It's not as if you weren't expecting my visit."

"You knew," she accused, and a tear of frustration escaped. Her voice cracked. "You knew he wouldn't come home until today, didn't you? That's why you agreed. It's like some sick cosmic joke to you!"

Placing an elbow casually atop the phone, he leaned in closer to her in a conspiratorial manner. "Who says Death doesn't have a sense of humor?"

At his words, Lisa slammed down the phone and turned from him. Her face flushed and she felt more tears pressing against her eyelids. She refused to let them fall. He may be able to take her life, but she would not allow him to take her dignity.

She grit her teeth, feeling him behind her. Waiting. He was silent and motionless, but her whole body was aware of his waiting. Without hurrying, Lisa pushed all emotion from her face and breathed deeply. Slowly, the hotness left her and calm began to replace panic.

She took a couple more deep breaths and then turned back. Mortimer was watching her, amusement written in his features.

"Are you done?" he asked.

Lisa refused to jump at his baiting tone. Instead, she asked levelly, "Can I at least see John before I go?"

Mortimer looked impatient. "You've had three years," he answered sharply. "Don't be greedy, Lisa."

She bit her lip. "There isn't anything else you...you want?"

He laughed. It sounded like a bat rustling its wings. "Why Lisa! What are you going to give me? Your firstborn son?" He smirked. "What on earth do you think you could give me that I might actually want?"

She frowned. "There must be something. Everybody wants something."

"Many people want me. You've fouled up the works. What makes you so special? Many good people who deserve to live have died, and many people, good and bad who have deserved death, linger on, enduring or causing great suffering. I am the great equalizer. All stand before me eventually. None can withstand me. Embrace your fate. You would have met me sooner or later. Give thanks that your death will actually make a difference, and will mean something. Many others haven't even been granted that comfort."

"Comfort!"

"Death is a great comfort to some," Mortimer murmured. "It can be a release from pain, or obligations."

He was looking at her very oddly. She had seen that look before, in her mother's eyes, only a few days before her death. It was the look of a terrible kind of longing; a hunger for something out of reach. Other people, all around you, have that something, what ever it is, health, wealth, happiness, and you know now it will never be yours.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

"Lisa, it's time for you to go."

"What is it you want?"

"I will take all your sorrows and joys away from you, but it's time to go."

"And what will you do with my sorrows and joys?"

"Take them onto myself, of course."

"Isn't that...isn't that crushing?" She couldn't seem to say what she wanted. She wanted to ask him how any being could take on the accumulated pain and pleasure of every human who passed on. She wanted to know how he could stand it. But he seemed to understand her well enough.

He smiled grimly. "It feels as though it's killing me, Lisa. But of course, death cannot die."

"Do...do you...does death wish to die?" Somehow it was easier to say it when he was an abstraction, and not a person.

He leaned towards her, his make-believe face rippling and shifting eerily. "Every moment, of every day, my dear."

"Is that what you want? Can I give you that?"

He laughed, and this time it was like the creaking open of an ancient coffin. "The only way for me to pass on, is if I find someone else willing to take on my role." His face was so close to hers, she could have kissed him if she had had any inclination to. "Of course, if you should take on my role, John would still live, and you wouldn't exactly die, though your life as you know it would indeed be over."

He moved away suddenly, and Lisa took a deep gulp of air, suddenly realizing that she had stopped breathing sometimes in the last few moments.

"It is your choice, Lisa. Decide."

She watched him, searching him for signs of deceit, or treachery, finding none. She didn't want to die, but she realized she didn't want to live forever, either. Especially not with the kinds of burdens Death obviously carried on his proverbial shoulders. There had to be another way, some solution that would give them both what they wanted.

Then it came to her.

"I need time," she said.

"You're out of time," Mortimer countered.

"Three days."

"You're stalling." He shook his head, making a tsking sound. "You disappoint me, Lisa. Why don't you just let go? Accept your fate. Embrace it. I promise you, I'll make it quick and painless. You won't feel a thing, only sweet oblivion."

"You don't understand!" she shrieked, causing some of the airport's patrons to look in her direction. The passers-by gave her a wide berth instead of jostling her as they had been. "I want us to both get our wishes. I want to live. My life, not yours. But I also want to grant your wish; I just can't do it right here and now."

"Go on..." She had obviously gotten his attention.

"You said it yourself -- whoever takes your place has to do so willingly. What if I can find someone? Of their own free will, with no trickery? And if I can't..."

"Yes?"

"...then I'll do it." She looked him in the eyes, black pools as deep as the void to which he wanted to take her. "You have my word."

He studied her, seeming to consider her amendment to their bargain. She had struck a chord deep within him. It resonated between them, intangible, yet audible. Her stomach was wrenched painfully as she awaited an answer.

"If I agree," he said at last, "There will be no further bargains." He stared at her intently.

She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. "No more bargains," she agreed.

His longing became obvious as the ramifications seeped their way into his consciousness. He truly had nothing to lose in this deal. Either way, he would die, freed of his terrible responsibility.

He stuck out a hand, one moment flesh, and the next skeletal. Reluctantly, she took it. Like the last time, it was cold and felt brittle.

His eyes blazed, and his voice became the cold of his realm. Slowly, he dissipated, wisps of smoke caressing her. His words to her as he left the earthly plane chilled her in their finality, even more than the grip of his handshake.

"We are agreed."

Lisa sighed to herself and stood for a moment, staring at the spot where Death had been. How was she going to do it? How? She had just three days to convince someone to take Death's place. If she couldn't do it, then she would become Death.

A shiver went through her, and her knees suddenly felt weak. The full impact of her promise came on her in a rush. The room became blurry and her heart started to pound. Three days.

A part of her panicked, trying to make her run senselessly out into the street to start her search. The more rational side of her overruled it, however, as she remembered that John would be there soon. While she was waiting, it would be better to sit down and make a concrete plan. There had to be someone out there who would take on Death's role....maybe some goth teenager...or someone who was dying and who wanted to live at any cost...or someone who wouldn't understand what it meant. She just had to figure out how to find him or her and how to convince them that becoming death would be a good idea.

Taking deep breaths, Lisa got her heart to slow. Her palms even stopped a little of their sweating. The important thing in all of this, the thing that she could not let herself forget, was that she was finally going to see John again. Even if it was only for three days, even if she became Death, it would be worth it.

With the unpleasant realization that she'd left his present right where she'd dropped it by the gate, she made her way back over there, fighting swarms of people the whole time. She hoped it hadn't been trampled too badly. For that matter, she hoped it was still there.

When she reached her destination, casting a furtive glance in the direction of the window where Mortimer had appeared only an hour before, she noted with relief that the blue-wrapped package with the lighter blue bow on it was still lying on the ground. It looked only slightly scuffed, where someone had kicked it. It was a miracle that it was in such good condition considering...

Her eyes flew back over to the window as if she expected Death to reappear, cancel the transaction entirely, and take her here and now. No one was there, though.

She re-entered the flow of foot traffic, this time going with the flow, and headed for the bank of phones she had used to camouflage her earlier discussion. Like last time, she chose the phone farthest inside the alcove. After a little bit of digging in her front pocket, she produced two quarters and slid them into the phone's hungry little mouth to check the messages on her answering machine.

Just as Mortimer had promised, there was a message from John:

"Hi, Mom! I hope you haven't left yet. My plane was late landing in Boston, so the one to Dallas took off without me. They're gonna try to get me on Flight 1727. I'll call you back if that doesn't happen. I love you, and I can't wait to see you again. Bye."

"No more messages," the robotic voice of her answering machine reported.

Lisa still couldn't believe it. After three years of boarding schools and spending breaks with his father, John was finally coming home. Her eyes began to well up with her love for him, but she forced back the impending tears. There would be time for waterworks later. She had to find out where and when his new flight was landing.

She fought the flow of people once more, this time to the row of monitors that listed departures and arrivals. There it was, on the first Arrival monitor -- from Boston, flight 1727. It was scheduled to arrive in just over two hours. That would give her a little time to come up with her plan. Gate 7 wasn't far from where Lisa had already been waiting, either.

As she entered the busy walk way yet again, she wondered where the hell all these people were coming from and where they were going. It didn't seem like it should be a particularly busy travel day, yet the steady throng of people told her that everyone in Dallas seemed to be traveling today.

After an unbearable length of time, she arrived at Gate 7 and sat down in a row of empty seats to wait for her son.

She was startled when a voice spoke to her -- from the seat to her immediate right.

"You saw him, too."

Lisa looked at the owner of the little voice. It was a little girl, who couldn't be more than 8 years old. She wore a pretty pink dress and had long, blonde hair tied into a pony tail with a satin ribbon the same color as the dress. Lisa would have sworn no one had come near the bench -- and it had been empty! -- but here was the pretty little girl all the same.

"He scares me," the girl continued.

"Who does?" Lisa asked. She couldn't help herself.

"The man you were talking to. The one who came to visit when I was sick. Right before Mommy... went away."

This was not only strange, but it seemed impossible. Had this child actually seen Mortimer?