AN: Yup. I'm back. Most people probably think I'm dead, but as prrof, here's this one-shot that I wrote a while back. Yes, I know I chould be working on LoTU, but my inspiration has decided to crap out on me. But I promise to not distract myself away from it any longer!

This story is based on one of my OTHER characters (I have crap-loads of them. Literally. And I plan on someday having them all on here or elsewhere). It has a cool twist, at least I think so, and I hope you enjoy! Please review!!

Cessation

My eyes scanned the blank white walls nervously; I twiddled with a random piece of hair feverishly. I looked at my watch. 10:20 AM. Another ten minutes, and my shift would officially begin.

I had always hated hospital smell, almost to the point of loathing. I never understood why I had come to do work like this; I could have been anything I wanted. A teacher, maybe, but it would be too much trouble keeping class and children in order. Or an enforcer, keeping laws in perfect order. But no. I just had to do this.

I glanced across the room to see old Mr. Porter bent over on his cane (even though he was already sitting), his one good eye staring right past me. It was a freak fishing accident with his brother about three years ago that cost him his other eye. I had just made it into surgery to see fresh spurts of blood oozing out of the empty socket. It was enough to make my stomach turn, but I held back the vomit. I had to be there, in case any mistakes were made. But he managed to pull through, and I was called off-duty. Now here the old codger was, still wearing his dusty old fishing hat.

I guess the eye patch wasn’t enough proof that he was still an idiot.

I flicked my eyes away from him to look at my watch again. 10:22. Eight minutes to go.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY INSURANCE DOESN’T COVER THIS?!”

The quiet room was filled with the bellowing as a heavyset woman came barging out of the nurse’s office.

Ah, good ole Marta. Never quiet, yet never screaming. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. After that coronary heart transplant, I’d have though she would learn a thing or two about eating grease from a can. I guess not, though, because here she is again, just as large as ever. I suppose I’d have to be present at yet another one of her heart failures.

The small mousy nurse whispered a few words to Marta, after which Marta gave a grunt of displeasure and went storming out of the building, just as loud as she had come in.

I was told I could be anything I wanted to be, but this is probably why I took the job. In a way, I help to erase peoples’ mistakes and create everything anew again. Yet…

I bit on a loose nail. 10:25. Five minutes left.

It was then that I heard the loud clatter of metal chains; smelled the intoxicating scent of rosemary; heard the hush of the room cracked and broken by a flutter of black leather. No one else saw him come in, nor even seemed to care, but I did.

“Daniel. Pleasure to see you here.”

“Nice to see you too,” he replied with an oily smile, his diamond-studded lip ring flashing in the sickly fluorescent light. He never was the most conforming of our practitioners, which is why I usually preferred to avoid him.

Everyone seemed so absorbed in their own little private worlds to notice him plop down beside me, the metal chins jingling once more, as if we had been pals for eternity.

“So…” he started a sentence, flipping a few charcoal bangs out of his icy blues, “When does your shift start?”

From this, I knew he only came to pester me.

“None of your business,” I shot back at him, prepared to start a fight. To be honest, I hoped that he could but me some time so I’d have a reason to miss my shift.

But Daniel knew better.

“I can see that means soon. Well, I guess I’ll be seein’ you when I be seein’ you! I have a shift in ten anyway. Oh, and--” He turned to me, his eyes flashing, “I still think the whole ordeal with Calvin was a mistake.”

And with that, he swept out of the room, taking the sweet smell of rosemary and the sound of clinking chains with him.

The NERVE of him! How dare he bring that up?! Yet, there was no getting rid of those memories; no way of erasing them from my heart.

Only a few months ago, I had gotten close to someone I shouldn’t have even thought about getting close to. Calvin. He was young, unwise, and made promises he couldn’t keep. I had been foolish enough to become attached, and on that day he rode off on his bright crimson Harley, the day he left me, I swore to close those thought away, safe in my mind. It was just one of the many painful memories I had to endure.

I don’t think I mentioned how much I hated death. I’ve gotten acquainted to it, but my hatred for it will never cease. With this job, I had to be used to death. It was almost all I ever saw.

My eyes trained to my watch. 10:29. Dear lord, only one minute left.

And then she stumbled awkwardly in. Little Tamitha Wilkinson. Her scabby knees knocked together as her large hazel eyes darted around the room. Clutched close to her was her white teddy bear, named Cola after the Coca-Cola commercial polar bear, and she grasped ferociously at her mother’s scarlet red cocktail dress.

I knew what I had to do.

As mother and Tami sat down, I got up and strolled over to her and claimed a seat next to the little nine-year-old. Neither of them had noticed me, but suddenly Tami looked up at me, her hazel eyes shining; so young, so innocent.

She coughed a few times and said a timid, “Hello.”

“Hello, Tamitha.”

I knew that I could talk to her for as long as she needed me to. I still had a full thirty seconds.

She smiled shyly, and asked quietly, yet curiously, “How do you know my name…?”

I smiled back at her, trying to ease her pain, “I know because I’m here to help you.”

The poor girl had suffered from Leukemia for three years. I knew I was the one to cut away her agony.

Tami looked at me as a dog would to a strange sound. She clutched Cola tighter, a bit of hope shining in her eyes. “R--really…?”

I couldn’t help but smile. Yet, it was a sad smile, one that has seen what feels like a millennia of nothing but pain, sorrow, and death. I prayed my smile was a light in all the darkness; a light that would guide her soul, among many others to come, to peace.

I didn’t need my watch to know. It was 10:30.

“Tell me Tami, what do you think Heaven looks like?”