I slumped into bed, exhausted from my day of walking around the city, doing small acts of kindness wherever I could. Paying for Nathaniel's lunch had left me feeling so good that I decided to spend the day doing the same thing to strangers all around the city. I bought lunch for a few homeless people, payed for the shopping of a single mum and threw in a chocolate cake for the little girl who only peaked around her mum's legs when I asked what colour sprinkles were her favourite. I did some shopping at a pop-up shop for a new designer, who was flawed and holding back a few tears when I cleared a few racks and shelves. Stopping for dinner I left a huge tip for my waiter before slipping out, and I made sure the taxi driver got at least double his fee when he drove me the shortest way home. It all left me with a warm and fuzzy feeling, and very sore feet.

A new small bag now rested on my bedside table, in it my new phone, some cash, hairbrush, slip on shoes and a cosy warm jumper. I had also taken the liberty of wearing pyjamas that covered me and didn't look so much like sleep wear should I end up jumping in the night again.

I tossed and turned for a few minutes finding my comfortable spot and drifted off into a deep sleep.

The pull woke me from my sleep in the dead of night. I grabbed at my heart, the pain of the person becoming my own. Even in my small time of being a Death dancer, I knew this time was different. I didn't even have the time to grab my bag.

One moment I was rolling off my bed about to hit the carpet, the next I had my nose pressed against cold concrete. My hands flew up to cover my bare shoulders which had started to shake from the cold. I stood slowly, my eyes only finding stars.

Where am I? I wondered, wandering towards a small glow of light. My heart stuttered. I was stood on the top of a giant sky scraper, so tall that the light of the city was below me, the people below me looked like ants.

I stumbled back. Even in death I was afraid of heights. I rolled my eyes. Of all the situations to find myself In, this was not where I thought I would end up this night.

Hugging myself to try and keep warm, I spun around. There had to be someone up here, I wouldn't have jumped here otherwise.

But I couldn't see anything. Apart from a red flashing light way above my head to ward of planes, there was no light to see anything with.

A flickering in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I walked to the other side of the roof, the wind biting my bare skin, trying to see who it was.

The figure stood on the ledge, their feet precariously balancing on the thin wall that led to plummeting to the world below. Their figure obscured by something I would recognise anywhere.

"How long do you think it would take?" He asked, his voice carrying on the wind. "From here to the ground."

I gaped, before wiping the expression from my face, realising the situation at hand.

"Contemplating death?" I replied, my legs shaking as I stood next to him.

I heard a low rumble of a heartless chuckle. "Occupational Hazard."

I stayed silent, my mind racing at what I should do and say next.

"You're not needed here, Ellie. Jump home." He turned to face me and my heart almost stopped.

His hood had slid back from his face and I could finally see his face. Death was young. Though what an immortal born millenniums ago was supposed to look like baffled me. His cheekbones were defined, lips thin, skin pale and sunken. But it was his eyes that floored me. Bright blue, iridescent almost. But sad. Hollow. Dead.

"The power you gave me tells me otherwise." I replied, holding his gaze.

He broke our gaze, lowering his hood to reveal a matt of white hair. His gaze returned to the city below us.

"I am Death. Whatever pull you experienced must have been a mistake."

I contemplated what he said, but his words didn't quite seem right to me.

"I doubt that. If your presence in this city draws dancers to you, then you would not be as surprised as you are to see me." my retort had its desired effect. He sighed, stepping down from the ledge.

"How has your day been?" I asked, stepping forward to stand by his side.

He looked down at me, eyes wide at my question.

"I have never been asked that before." He murmured.

"That wasn't an answer to my question." I replied.

He shrugged. "It was normal, a few hundred thousand souls ferried to where they need to be, one or two personal calls on people I promised many, many, years ago that I would be there for their passing. The usual."

"A few hundred thousand?!" I gasped.

"Of course, how many people do you think die every day?" He scoffed in reply.

"And the one or two personal calls, who were they?" I asked, ignoring his quip at my lack of knowledge.

The silence that stretched out before us told me all I needed to know.

"I'm sorry for your loss." I said, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder, in a way I thought would be comforting.

"Henry was one hundred and three. Anne was ninety seven. They were old and death for them was inevitable." He replied, his voice still monotonous.

"Death may be inevitable, but that doesn't make their passing any less painful." I replied. "Who were they? To you?"

Death turned to face me, eyeing me sceptically. I crossed my arms definitely, telling him silently that I wasn't going to leave until he told me what I wanted to know. My arms snaked back up to my shoulders as I braced myself against the wind.

Wordlessly he slipped the black cloak from around his shoulders and draped it over mine, rolling his eyes as I gaped, shocked at his actions.

"I may be Death, but I am not heartless or cruel." He replied, and I instantly felt guilty.

"I am sorry, the preconception about who you are must be difficult to deal with." I replied, following his suit as he sat on the floor.

"I am used to it." His reply was short, curt and filled with pain.

"Just because you are used to it, doesn't mean It hurts you any less. You are feared by every person around the world." I said, watching him.

He scoffed. "Thanks for the reminder." He fell silent for a moment, watching the stars. "But you are wrong. I am not feared by everyone."

I raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"I met Henry in the trenches of World War Two. He had been shot in the leg and was bleeding out. He died, and I collected his soul, but It slipped from my fingers as the doctors revived him. But the moments with his soul, with him, were binding. We talked, I soothed, and he was resigned. I visited him a few years later, and he was shocked to see me, to say the least."

He chuckled, his eyes distant as he replayed the memory in his mind. "But he was not scared of me. He had faced me before, and was happy to be welcomed into my arms again. It was not his time to die then. I collected his soul this morning, and he greeted me like an old friend. He had his family beside him, his grandchildren playing in the garden outside. He had lived an extraordinary life. And here I was, taking it from him."

I listened quietly, my heart aching and stomach sinking as I realised that I was sat next to the loneliest man I had ever met.

"His soul went to heaven, to be with his God. His afterlife will be peaceful and happy. But there Is little consolation in that."

He sighed, flicking a loose pebble on the roof, it bounced forward before being taken by the wind.

"Anne was different. She was pure, kind, peaceful. I could rest with her. It was the end of the war when I met her, a nurse caring for the last of those injured. I was exhausted. So many had died, and I had not stopped for over twenty years. So much death." He looked up to the stars again.

"I thought I loved her. In a way I did, I guess. She was my silence in my storm. But she had seen to much death. Too much to be happy around Death itself. She knew who I was, tried to convince me to stay with her. But I could see the sadness brewing inside of her, haunting her behind her eyes. I watched over her. I waited for her. And she embraced me today as though I had never left her side. She will be reborn again."

"She sounds like a wonderful person." I said quietly, not wanting to wake him from his reminiscing. He only nodded in reply.

The sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, the wind calming as warmth slowly trickled through the air.

Death sighed, standing, extending his hand down to help me up. I stood, following his actions silently. I handed him his cloak, smoothing it out as he hung it from his own shoulders.

He watched me, his eyes glazing over again as they were before we had talked. "Back to the daily grind." He quipped, his lips tugging up in a forced smile.

"You are not alone in your job any more, my door is always open." I replied, stepping back, watching as he turned his back on me and disappeared in a flurry of black fog.

What is it about after midnight that makes people talk more freely to each other!? Thanks for reading- what do you think of the story so far?