"Hello." The young boy's bright voice wormed its way into his mind. Through the pain and anesthesia, wrapping around his tired consciousness like cold water; rousing his mind from its drugged stupor. He turned his head, silver hair gleaming as his ancient bones creaked, to look at the boy.

"Hello," he coughed, not used to the exercise of his voice, it seemed like forever since he had last engaged it. "What are you doing here?" The boy's roughly seven year old head tweaked its head to the side in the manner of a small animal,

"My Father said I needed to come see you soon, but I had nothing to do, so I came a little early, just to talk; you seem lonely" The old man's head fell back, he had no idea how right he was, his wife had died two years ago, and he had recently discovered that his son had been a victim of war. Dying is hard, dying slowly is harder, but dying slowly, with your family and friends long gone before you…

The Cancer in his lungs ached as he fought back tears. He turned his head back to the boy, and despite all his troubles, the pure, sweet; worried face of that child brought a soft smile to his lips.

"Thank you m'boy, I needed the company." The boys face split into a huge grin, which he quickly forced shut in an attempt at real seriousness.

"I'm really sorry about your wife and kid; I don't know how you can stand to lose your son like this." The man began to nod in sad agreement when his mind snapped back into place, filled with suspicion his voice cracked harshly,

"How do you know about them? Who is this father of yours?" The boy took his hands firmly but gently,

"Later, but right now, we need to go." The man opened his mouth to say he couldn't go anywhere, when he found he was standing upright, feeling strong as he ever had.

"But…. How?" the child merely pointed behind him, smile gone as the old man became aware of a shrill noise, he turned to see himself, lying eyes closed in the hospital bed, he had flat lined.

He dropped to his knees and looked awestruck at the figure behind him, "you…" The boy put a warm hand tenderly on his world weary shoulder, wings spreading from his small back.

"Yes, I am the angel of death; I've come to take you home."