Chapter Text
Agatha was the first person who understood Death.
She wasn’t destruction - she was life, the essence of existence itself. There was no true destruction in nature. There was only a change in form, from the dense singularity before the big bang that would expand into a universe, to matter that decomposed into stray protons and electrons, creating light with their movement. Change was the only true constant in the universe, and she could feel the tides and eddies of energy around her.
Rio hadn’t expected to fall in love. Certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love with a mortal, and not someone so resistant to change. Agatha defined herself by her survival, a trait that usually irritated Rio as she chased after wayward ghosts. To resist change was unnatural.
But Rio would carefully note, Agatha never cheated Death. Yes, she begged for her son, and later the teenager on that silly carnival they called the Road. Those boys borrowed and borrowed against fate, and would have to pay what was due. But Agatha herself? Through cleverness and grit, Agatha survived, fair and square.
How could Rio not fall in love?
There was a thrill in the kill, something Rio generally wasn’t allowed to do. Hell, it had practically been foreplay before - how close she could get with Agatha, without crossing a line. The swings and blades until the two were left panting on the ground, their sparring giving way to baser desires.
But not this time.
“I WANT. MY. PRIZE!” the witch shouted, and Rio could feel the electricity in the air. She cackled at Agatha’s hopelessness - because this was real. Rio was owed a life, and which she took didn’t matter. Agatha, the clever and relentless coward, would soon be hers.
And then the boy returned.
Rio thought the battle would be decided then and there, as Billy sent his powers surging through Agatha’s veins. Fool, Rio thought, sighing at the prospect of taking the unearthly boy to the other side, instead of her lover.
But Agatha didn’t kill him. No matter, Rio thought. “One of you stays with me,” she said simply, “And the other walks free.” She didn’t understand the dizzying array of what happened next, with Agatha teetering between protecting Billy, or leaving him to his rightful fate.
Then Rio felt lips against her own, and time stopped.
Agatha was in front of her, wanting and soft, with warm hands touching the cool skin of her face. She closed her eyes, taking in the passion of a lover she had not felt in years, in centuries. Mine, mine, mine, she thought, you’ve always been mine.
It was only as Agatha withdrew that Rio realized what she had done.
She opened her eyes, watching the mortal fall back into the ground. The woman who scraped a survival at every turn, who killed without a thought… had chosen to die, for an abomination that she considered her son, with one last gift for her lover.
Rio stared at the body, but she did not summon Agatha’s soul, did not wake the dormant spirit. With a wave of her hand, flowers and mushrooms and all manner of life began to sprout, each petal and stem for a life that Agatha had taken.
Rio would deny that tears fell from her cheeks. I won’t take you now, she thought, knowing that soon Agatha’s confused and disoriented soul would wake. To die was natural, but to die of Death was anything but. She would grant Agatha her one request, leaving her lover alone until she was truly ready.
Rio dismissed the boy, and departed.
Rio hates ghosts.
Agatha smiled as she floated atop smoldering rubble. Rio’s first attempt to capture Giles Corey had burnt down most of Salem in 1914. Her second attempt, in the year 2317, had done the same, as Agatha was witnessing now. But at least the old witch trials ghost was finally on the other side. She’ll be proud of that one, Agatha thought.
Agatha roamed the ashes of the city as night fell. She could sense it - Rio was in the heart of the destroyed city, gathering the last of the souls that had died in the fires.
And she knew Rio sensed her presence too.
Agatha took her time crossing streets and roads towards the center. Time to admire the embers that still burned, the stars in the sky, the ocean breeze that she could almost feel on her skin. She could sense that every last soul was finally gone, shepherded to the other side, where she would soon go.
When she reached Rio, the woman was facing away, crouching on the ground as though to examine ash. “I promised not to come for you,” Rio said.
“You did,” Agatha said, “But I’m ready now.”
Rio stood, turning, a small smile crossing her lips. “Are you?” she said softly.
She crossed brick and asphalt and rubble, stepping before Agatha with a softness in her eyes that Agatha had missed for years. “Is he on the other side?” Agatha asked, “Or does that whole reincarnation thing actually work?”
“You will see him soon enough,” Rio said. “He is an old man on his deathbed, surrounded by his grandchildren.”
Agatha smiled. She glanced to her right, at a doorway left standing, though the house around it had collapsed. In the darkness, the door began to glow with green fog, and she took an airless breath in wonder for what awaited her on the other side.
She turned to Rio again, and held out her hand, which Rio grasped in return. It made Agatha laugh. “Your hands are warmer than mine now,” she said, drawing a smile from Rio as they turned towards the door.
Just before the final step, Agatha stopped, lingering.
“What are you thinking?” Rio asked.
“If he’ll forgive me,” Agatha murmured, “If my next life will be better. If I’ll find you again.”
A knowing smile crossed Rio’s lips, with a comforting squeeze to Agatha’s hand. “You’ll see.”
They stepped through the doorway.