Work Text:
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love;
She knew she would find them all again
In the fields of light above.
Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath
The Reaper came that day;
'T was an angel visited the green earth,
and took the flowers away.
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Reaper and the Flowers"
Anne was six years old the first time Aran Boonchuy heard her special Voice. He was on cashier duty at the restaurant when a terrible scream tore his earbuds—and all of the customers'— apart. It was Anne. Aran threw the change to the face of the man he was serving and flew to the kitchen. How wife, On, was sitting on the ground, holding a weeping Anne. Marcy and Sasha were there too. Anne's little friends had come for a playdate but the Boonchuys had work. Not that it mattered —the little girls loved to play in the kitchen. Marcy had a knack for setting on fire things that were not flammable, and Sasha just loved to play Knight-And-Princesses with actual knives —she was always the knight. Having the girls in the kitchen was a constant pain in the butt for the Boonchuys but endless fun for the girls.
No one was laughing now. On was fine; Marcy and Sasha seemed alright too. The only one not fine was Anne. She let out a particularly long wail and Aran's heart nearly stopped.
"What's going on? What happened?" Aran looked accusingly at the other girls.
Sasha gasped and seemed ready to yell a protest, but Anne took the mic from her.
"She's going to die," Anne whimpered.
That phrase became one of the Top Five Creepy Things Anne had ever said. And boy, it was a long list.
"Die? W-who's going to die honey?" Asked Aran
Anne lifted her miniature finger. She pointed it at Marcy. Then descended to point at the critter in Marcy's hands.
Let's be honest; as a restaurant owner, Aran knew you were not supposed to have animals in the kitchen. Not living, breathing, disease-giving ones. But he figured out the three little girls with On could take care of Marcy's pet for a few hours
Also, it was a stinking turtle, for crying out loud.
"Anne, don't say things like that. You're going to scare Marcy," On reprimanded her daughter.
Marcy wasn't scared as much as uncomfortable and wanting to hide from all the undesired attention. But this was Marcy's de facto look, so it was hard to know what she was thinking.
"But it's true!" Anne retorted and went back to her wailing, muffled only by On's tight grip on her.
Anne was inconsolable until Sasha rubbed a hand over her curls. It was like an OFF button.
"You're being dumb, Anne," said Sasha in that particular 'you better listen up' tone she often used. "Don't you remember? Marcy told us turtles live forever. Right Marcy?"
Again, it was like a button was pressed, because Marcy began to ramble. "Yeah, it's true! They can live up to 100 years. And Mr. Matt is just a baby. He will grow with us and be with us forever. See? He's fine."
To prove the point, Marcy brought the turtle to Anne's face. Mr. Matt stretched his neck to take a peck at Anne. Then retreated back inside its shell.
Aran never spoke about it, and neither did On, but they both knew Anne's pupils weren't regular spheres like anyone else. She had skulls for pupils. And at that moment they shined bright and smiled sadly. The air got cold as Anne spoke in an otherworldly voice.
"NO. IT WILL DIE IN A WEEK."
The strangest thing was, Aran could hear Anne's voice; but at the same time, he heard his wife's screaming. He'd heard it before. Six years ago, when the doctors dragged On from the maternity ward to the operating room, because little Anne had gotten the umbilical cord tied around her neck and they had to take her out now or both mother and baby will die. Aran told his wife everything will be fine, as the nurses held him down so he won't follow her. Then she screamed. Out of pain, out of fear. Out of rage because Anne wasn't even born yet and she could die.
Aran lost his father as a young boy. But he had to wait until that day to know the fear of death. Anne's voice brought that memory back like a fist in the face. He shared a look with his wife; did she hear it too? He would have to wait to know it.
After expressing the cynical omen, Anne went back to her usual self; the air in the kitchen slowly warmed as Anne calmed down.
Aran didn't flinch when, one week later, he heard from Marcy's father that Marcy's turtle died. 'Older than what the clerk said. What a jerk! Can you believe it?', rambled David Wu and Aran pretended to listen, but his blood had gotten cold.
It was too much. Too big of a charge for a little girl. And out of all little girls, why did it have to be his Anne?
On heard Anne's Voice several times through the years and, although it went against her vows, she never told her husband what it sounded like.
Until that disastrous tennis match. It was the finals and Anne had been killing it the whole tournament. Not literally though, but in skills. She was a natural at tennis. But at that final game, something went off. On lost count of how many times Anne felt, or how many easy hits she missed. It was a total loss. Zero points scored on Anne's side. On didn't care a bit about the crowd's comments about how there was more dirt on Anne's body than on the floor, nor the sneer remarks of the winning girl's mother. All she cared about was Anne.
They were in the lockers, Anne seated on the corner of a bench. She was small for a ten-year-old. There was that 'about to cry, but don't want to' look on her face.
On sent Aran to warm up the van —a pathetic excuse to be left alone with her daughter. Often, Anne would be more open to her mother than to her father; other days, the opposite was true. On hoped today was a mom's day.
She picked a towel and dampened it with water, rubbing the material over Anne's dirty face.
"It's no big deal, honey. We all have bad days," she said, although bad was selling it short. "There'll be other tournaments. You just have to work on your speed-"
"I don't want to play tennis anymore," Anne whimpered, eyes red from holding down the tears.
That made it for On. "Come on, Anne, you can't give up now. Not after your first tournament. Not after a bad game. Not after your first bad game! Some people have to work their whole life to achieve what you did this season. You have real talent, and I won't see you waste it." On firmly scraped the thick layer of dirt covering her face. Anne was hissing like Domino on bath day. "I want to know what happened today. Are you mad? Hungry? Low on sugar? Cramps?"
Anne hugged her legs to her chest.
"Anne, look at me."
Anne tilted her head even further away.
On lifted a hand. "Anne-"
Anne flinched and was in the middle of 'Don't touch…!' when On's hand squeezed her shoulder. The world turned grey.
"She'll never win because she's a failure."
On nearly jumped. Neither woman had said that.
Leaning against the lockers was a man, maybe in his thirties, with long hair held in place by a headband, and dotting a tennis uniform. The grayish tone of the world and the blue hue the man haloed revealed him as a ghost. That and the fact that his head was backward 180 degrees, meaning he was giving them their back and staring down at them at the same time. He had that obnoxious 'I want my order done by yesterday' customer face.
On, who was more used to spooks than a regular restaurant owner should calmly asked him: "Hello. Who might you be?"
"Nadil," the ghost bowed forward, but since his head was backward, it kind of lost its effect. Lifting one's butt was hardly a way to start a conversation "Ralph Nadil. Tennis player extraordinaire! Number one in all magazines in 1976. I was fated to be the best in the world. Until the 1976 tournament final." He straightened his head with his hands so it was facing the right way. As soon as it let it go, it whipped back to its unnatural position. "It's funny, these necks of us, aren't they? One small fall and your career's over. As is your life." He hunched over like a whining child. "I was this close to the US Open! Unlike your daughter here."
"Excuse me?" On snapped all too fast, in the same voice she used when the health inspector showed his face by the restaurant.
"Just as I said. She's a lost cause. A bad shot. A loser."
Anne covered her reddened ears. A picture formed inside On's mind. Ghosts were a constant in the Boochuys' life. The spooks were attracted to Anne for some reason. She could hear, see and talk to them. And if Anne touched someone, or someone was touching Anne (like On was now), she could pass that power to the other person. Sounds nice, right? It's not. Having ghosts following your daughter around everywhere she goes is just as stressful as managing a restaurant in this economy. It was easy enough to keep them away from the house; a circle of salt around the perimeter usually did the trick. But they had yet to find something to keep the ghost away when Anne was outside. The whole season was played on smaller courts, but the coordinators picked a semi-pro one for the finals because it was bigger.
"Oh, I get it," On spat. "I take it you've been bothering my daughter the whole game, didn't you?"
"Bothering? I've been trying to help her!" Ralph stomped his feet silently. "This is the court where I died! I think I have the right to give pointers if I feel inclined to. And finally, I had someone who could actually listen to what I had to say. Unfortunately, it had to be your useless-"
On was up and front faster than the time it takes for a match to be lit. Her hand kept squeezing Anne's shoulder. On wanted to see this spook's face when she's done with him.
"Now you're going to listen and listen well because I will only say this once. My daughter is beautiful, talented, and smart. I mean she could have better grades if she worked harder but that's beside the point. AND she's a great tennis player. Definitely better than the other girl, and absolutely better than you. So you're going to apologize to her and then you're going to leave her alone. And I know what you are thinking." She shoved a finger inside Ralph's nose; literally since he was made of ghostly smoke. "You're thinking 'this is an old woman. She can do nothing to me. And yes, I might be old. But my daughter's only ten years old and she can see you. Now, tell me, what do you think her old mother can do to you? Mmh?"
On held a stare-off with Ralph. Eventually, it crossed the ghost's flipped head that a woman with that much self-confidence was either too good at lying or too dangerous to mess with. With this thought in mind, he lifted his hands in defeat, said a pathetic apology to Anne, and backed away until he disappeared behind the wall.
On breathed off. She smiled brightly at Anne and hid her trembling hands behind her back. The world became colorful again.
"Well, that's over with," said On and sat next to her daughter. "From now on, I want you to tell me whenever a shriek or a spook or a banshee or whatever is bothering you, alright?"
Anne mumbled. "I'm sorry."
On shrugged it off. "It's just a tennis match."
Anne shook her head over and over. "The kids at school think Marcy and Sasha are weird just for hanging out with me. You guys are haunted by spooks all the time. And I can't even win a stupid game because I'm… because I'm not…"
Anne's hands went to her face but it was too late; the tears began to fall freely, as Anne painfully hiccupped. On pulled her daughter to her chest and let her weep. Then she heard it.
"I JUST WANTED TO DO SOMETHING… SOMETHING TO FEEL NORMAL. BUT I'M NOT. I-I'M SORRY"
On too started to weep. She'd heard the sound of a crying baby. The same wail Anne made as she finally began to breathe, after several minutes of infinite silence, the day the doctors did a C-section on On. It was the sound of Anne coming back to life, and it should've been the best sound in the world but it haunted On in her sleep because it reminded her Anne had nearly died. From that point forward, every time Anne cried, no matter how insignificant the reason, On remembered how she'd almost lost her before having her.
Never was that memory as strong as it was now. It felt like Anne was dying in her arms again. But she wasn't, because her little Anne was a fighter. There are things in this world, things that are coming for her, from which On couldn't protect her. Anne will need to be strong
"You're everything I ever wanted you to be." On said, slowly and full of pain. "Mine. My Anne. My littlest angel. And you don't have to play tennis again."
Anne laughed childishly and for a moment it felt that all the monsters —the outside ones, and the ones living inside Anne's head— were gone.
Eventually, Anne did play tennis again. And she won several tournaments. She played in that same court several times. They ran into Ralph every time.
And every time, Ralph would make a turn and fly away like the wind.
Learning Anne was the Angel of Death, the Collector of Souls, the Final Reality, AKA Death herself was, hardly, a surprise. Honestly, the giant, talking, anthropomorphic frogs were way more of a freak-out. Anne being the Grim Reaper? It was so obvious one was left to wonder how nobody figured it out before.
But the bag was out of the cat —or however, the saying went. It was a blessing; the truth. Anne really had grown out as a person. And as the Grim Reaper. She obviously didn't need her parent's protection anymore.
Truthfully, since Anne came back, the Boonchuys' haven't heard her Voice, not even once. Until the very moment, they thought she was going to die.
Mr. X has been a pain in the ass ever since Anne returned to Earth. The FBI Agent was onto the Plantars, them being actual 'aliens'. And he was onto Anne too. It was hilarious. Poor guy didn't even have a clue of what Anne really was. What her 'job' was. He wasn't too bright.
Or so it seemed. Then he showed up with a dozen FBI vans and a hundred agents. Anne went for X's neck —not that she could be blamed; On would've done the same. Then Mr. X pulled out a baton. It was electrified and shone with bright, sickening white light; like a hospital neon sign. With a single touch of the weapon, Anne was reduced to a convulsing form on the ground. The patch of skin the weapon had touched was burnt and black. It healed quickly but left a nasty mark. X took the Plantars into 'custody', and he would've taken Anne too if it weren't for Aran's reflexes at dragging Anne to the van, and On's mad-driving skills in getting away.
So, to recapitulate: X had taken the Plantars hostages to a secret FBI compound where he would… Well, let's not think about the details now. The portal Terri had built to bring the Plantars home was kind of a bust. And, of course, X now had a weapon that could harm and or kill Anne. Where did he get it, it was anyone's guess. Perhaps the Killer Frobot that was sent to exterminate Anne; that had been the only time something gave Anne a pause.
Weapon or not, Anne wouldn't let the Plantars at X's hands. Neither could her parents. Family never left family behind. And so, together, the three Boonchuys devised a plan. And when Anne wasn't listening, Aran and on devised another, secondary plan.
Plan A was a success! The Boonchuys, the Plantars, and all the allies they'd gathered escaped the FBI compound, reached the storehouse where they'd built the portal, and with the new power source they 'acquired' for it, the Plantars would be home in a flash. Everything worked well.
That's the funny thing with life. When you're down, the only place to go is up. And when you're too high, the fall hits harder.
Everything happened too fast. The portal was too small for even a hand to go through. A hundred FBI agents, armed to the teeth, invaded the building. And as soon as he spotted Anne, X slashed her with his baton. One attack to make her fall, and a second one to keep her down. Both times in the face. Anne howled in pain. She was conscious but badly harmed, twin burnt marks like an x crossed her face.
On and Aran had to watch it all. Their allies were being held down like common criminals. The portal coming to a close. And Anne, their precious Anne, their little girl, lying on the floor, hurt and scared.
X taunted them. "Not bad, Anne, not bad. You really are full of tricks, aren't you? I'm tempted to have you dissected as well, just to see what makes you tick." X lifted Anne's face with the tip of the baton, making the girl hissed. "But in the end, you failed. Because no matter what you do, or what you are. In your heart, you're still. Just. A kid."
The smell of burning flesh filled the air. On didn't have the guts to look. Then X gasped.
Anne had grabbed the baton with her bare hand.
"You're right X. I am just a kid," Anne's smile was calm and pure. "But today reminded me that with the right people by my side, I can do ANYTHING."
X didn't even get to yell 'what the-' before the baton split into a million pieces under Anne's grip. The surge of power sent everyone flying against the walls, blinding them with that sickening white light.
When the Boonchuys' came back to their senses, they saw an Angel.
Well, kind of. There was Anne, but she wasn't just Anne. Her clothes had morphed into a black and golden suit of the finest kind, with a golden chest plate engraved with scythes protecting her chest, with metal shoulder pads and boots of the same material. A cape made of the night sky fell from her shoulders to the ground; shooting stars danced down its length. A circlet of black fire, in the shape of a lotus flower, hovering above her head, completed the royal look. One thing that caught On's attention was the blue tennis gloves. They were similar to the ones On had got her, so many years ago. They didn't really fit the queenly outfit, but hey, when you are Death and can create your own clothes on the spot, you become immediately immune to fashion rules. Then there were the wings. Golden, dragonfly wings, sprouted from Anne's back, nearly as large as she was tall (and she seemed taller now than ever before).
So yes, she was an angel. On and Aran's little flower had grown up into the Angel of Death.
Oh, X was gonna get it. He realized it too and crawled away from Anne.
"What are you?" X asked, almost offended by his own ignorance.
Anne laughed and made a show of flapping her pair of wings and showing off her cape of stars. Her whole body haloed black light.
"TAKE A WILD GUESS."
It was anyone's guess what X heard, but both Aran and On heard the same thing.
Nothing. Silence. Anne's words reached their brains without going through their ears first. It was an empty room that could never be used again. A house without a teen's laughter. A final 'I love you' that will never be said. It humbled and broke both adults to tears.
Being done with X nonsense, Anne kicked him. X flied like a ragdoll right at the Boonchuys' feet. Just where they wanted him. They rushed to hold the man down, On making the special point of faceplanting him, breaking his ugly-ass glasses. The other agents, seeing their boss being bossed by a Divinely-Powered teen and her parents, did the smart thing and surrendered. Anne hummed and lifted her hands. Tendrils of darkness, black tentacles made of goo, emerged from the ground, tying down all the agents. Better to be safe than sorry, right?
And they were finally, finally actually safe. That was the good news.
Bad news? The portal was a complete flunk. Terri and Dr. Jan worked desperately on the controls and the structure, but they only got it to spark once before it turned off for real.
"I'm so sorry guys. I… it requires more energy than we thought," said Dr. Jan. "I don't know if we can even reopen it."
Through all this, Anne stood in front of the portal, still wearing her new form. Her dragonfly wings flapped quickly as she rubbed her chin.
"Maybe we don't need to. Maybe there's another way," said Anne and her voice still carried that otherworldly silence, but it didn't hurt nor did it sadden the Boonchuys. Like Anne was more in control now.
"Give me some room." She ordered and everyone backed against the walls.
Anne joined hands around the black lotus flower over her head. From it emerged a large staff, a whole head taller than Anne, all black, with a heart-shaped golden stone at the top. Nobody gasped when a large blade, in the shape of a crescent moon emerged from the heart. Anne twirled the scythe above her head and shadows danced around her. Everyone was pushed further away as the room became bigger, and the sheer strength of Anne's gravity push keep them stuck to the walls that keep getting farther and farther away.
On and Aran could barely see when Anne lifted the scythe above her head. Then she sliced it down and the sharpest cut ever was heard. Like scissor-cutting a steel beam. At the same time, the room shrunk down to its original size, pulling everyone down and at the portal machine's feet.
"I think my bowels and my lungs just shifted places," said Ally while Jess patted her back.
Hop Pop beamed. "It might have, but it also did wonders for my back." He made a wide circle with his hips. Something inside him cracked. "Eh, never mind," he said.
Sprig shouted. "Guys, look at that!"
There was a… gate? Chasm? Hole? It was hard to describe because it didn't resembled anything the Boonchuys had seen before. In any case, a fissure, in the slight shape of a triangle, had opened, and on the other side, a familiar frog world could be seen. Anne had just cut open a portal to another dimension.
Molly Jo broke the silence. "No offense, Frogman, but I think she should've been the superhero." She teased Sprig.
"Give me a break, would ya? I have cool ghost powers too! Sort of… but I can't open portals to another world."
Polly broke in. "Yeah, cool power and all, but it would've been great if you had used it like, one or two weeks ago. I'm totally complaining, by the way."
Anne gave a meek laugh. "I know," she said in her usual voice. "I thought it was possible but I never knew how. I guess I was holding myself down. But not anymore," she turned to face her parents. It was strange, how someone so majestic could look so fragile. "This is me. I mean, part of me. And the other part too. Human and Reaper. I'm the whole I can be. I hope it's ok?"
On caressed Anne's cheek. It was freezing cold but it quickly warmed to On's touch.
"Yellow has always been your color. And everyone looks good in black," On joked, and why not? She was happy.
Anne groaned t the joke but didn't try to hide her smile.
There wasn't much left to say. Hop Pop said his farewell to his actor friend. Polly rambled to Jess and Ally about all the upgrades they'll do to Frobo when she returns to Earth. Sprig high-fived Molly Jo (who, on second thought, was too young to come to this mission, to begin with). Dr. Jan and Terri were too busy doing circles around the gate, going on about how "impossible" this should be.
They haven't known Anne long enough if they still believe in 'impossibles'.
Speaking of, it was time for Anne to say goodbye to her parents. From the look on her face, this was even more painful than she ever thought it would be.
On showed Anne the backpack she had brought for her. "I packed some stuff for you. Just the basics. Phone and charger, toothbrush and paste, your hormones so you don't have to be without for months again, and some spare clothes and shoes." She blushed. "Oh, but I guess those are useless now you can make your own clothes."
Anne held dearly onto the backpack. "I'll make sure to use it all. Especially the toothbrush. It's pretty lightweight, 'tho. I figured you would've stuffed it with photos to remind you guys with," Anne said to her dad.
Aran's smile was wicked. "Oh, you won't need anything to remember us…"
"Because we're coming with you." On finished brightly.
This was Plan B! Which was essentially Plan A with an extra step.
"WHAT?" Anne shouted, rattling the walls and cracking the windows. Dust fell from the ceiling and burnt over her fire circlet.
"We decided this a while ago," Aran elaborated. "You're not our little girl anymore, we know that. You've proven yourself capable of anything you put your mind to and more. In fact, if we go we'll probably just get in your way and you'll have to prevent us from getting eaten by some kind of giant monster or something."
Aran's speech didn't help their case at all. Then On took the reins.
"But we also decided that we can no longer go back to that house without you. Knowing you're far away, fighting in a war, saving people. I may be selfish but I can't sit by and let you do it, not if I can be there myself. Even if all we can do is cheer for you and give you thumbs up, then that's what we'll do"
"We'll be the best thumb up-givers ever." Aran lifted both thumbs high up.
On touched her daughter's face. X's wound had healed but the x-shaped scar over Anne's eyes remained. On traced her fingers over it, wondering if it'll ever heal.
"Even if you don't need us, we still need you. Please, let us be with you."
Sprig and Polly jumped in to the talk, by jump-hugging Aran's legs. "You really mean it, Mr. B? This won't be the last time we see you?" said Sprig, teary-eyed.
Aran patted the kids' backs. "Daww, of course, you won't lose us. We won't let you guys go that easily. You're all family now."
Even as he said this, Aran knew Anne had the final word. If she asked them to stay behind, if she said they would just get in the middle, and that they didn't know what they were doing, they would do as she said
Anne examined the portal, wings flapping slowly. "You know I won't be back, right? Not in a good while. Not until everything is over."
They knew. They'd never been more sure about something ever since they decided to move to the United States. They had stood their ground to Aran's mother, and now they stood their ground to their daughter.
Anne got red-faced and jumped into their arms, tying her parents in a soft, weak embrace. Like she was still a child that needed comfort.
"You guys are the best," said Anne, the little skulls inside her eyes crying fat tears.
On chuckled. "Well, you have to get it from someone."
The choice was made and the portal was open. No reason in wasting more time. The ladies of the Thai temple told them they'll take good care of the restaurant —and of X. The agent shuddered and turned green-faced.
The Plantars stood in front of the portal, to the left. The Bonchuys did too, to the right. Anne stood in the middle, joining both families. On the other side was a new world. A new land, with new people. A new culture. A new life they'll need to get used to.
But Aran and On were no strangers to that and joining hands with their daughter, they took a step forward.
To their new home. Their new fate.