Disclaimer: Dead Like Me is not mine. The BPRD is not mine. The idea of putting them together is... also not mine. It belongs to my best friend. All I do is write.
Author's Note: OK. I know that crossovers are the devil, and they're rarely done well enough to even be worth reading, but I had to give this a try, mainly because my best friend suggested it. And when she suggests something, I have to try it, because she's the one who draws me gift art and buys me pocky and basically rules my little universe. So it's all her fault, not mine - I'm just the person who's "implementing" the "action plan".---------
Cardinal law of the universe – Everybody Dies. You parents, your friends, those distant relatives you always have to write awkward thank-you notes to when they send you birthday presents... even you. Eventually, your number comes up, and you go down.
But I'm guessing you don't think about it all that much. If you know what's good for you, you're too busy living to worry about dying. I mean, you probably won't even know the specifics – where, when, how – until it happens. That's not your job, knowing.
My name is George Lass, and I'm a grim reaper.
I take souls for a living.---------
"Do Reapers ever have, like, Reaper conventions?" George asked one morning.
She was sitting in Der Waffle Hause (just like she always did), waiting for Rube to give her her daily post it (just like he always did). Mason sat across from her, shooting paper straw covers at Roxy, who sat next to George. Daisy was sitting on George's other side, doing her makeup with a little compact mirror. The whole seating arrangement was a little cramped, but the only person who really seemed to mind was Roxy, who liked her personal space.
"Yeah, sure," Rube said. "Every year, in California. Huge Reaper conventions. They get a building for every division – external influence, terminal illnesses, poverty..."
"Really?" George asked, interested. She hadn't expected a serious response from her usually deadpan boss.
Rube rustled his newspaper. "No."
"Jerk," George muttered under her breath. In a louder voice, she said, "So, can I please get my post-it?"
"You've got a special assignment today," Rube said, reaching across the table to hand her the little yellow piece of paper that bore the initials, location and "E.T.D" – estimated time of death – of the unfortunate soul she was to reap that day.
George read the post it.
"Connecticut?" She asked. "We're in Seattle. Why can't the Reapers in Connecticut get this guy?"
"Girl," Rube said. "And they're all double-booked – seems they've been having some frog problems. Think of it as a business trip. Mason's going with you, that is," – here Rube tossed a stern glance at Mason – "he doesn't try anything illegal at the airport..."
"They didn't catch me," Mason said indignantly.
"You were high for a week from that damn thing you shoved up your ass," Roxy interjected, addressing the situation with her usual bluntness. "You try anything like that this time and I'll kick your ass."
"She'll do it, too," George added helpfully.
"Wait a minute," Daisy said. "You said 'girl'."
"So?" Rube said defensively.
"Are you going to?"
"Why would I?"
"Because," Daisy said, peering over her shoulder, "There's just a first initial here. This person could be a girl or a boy, but you said girl."
"More girls' names start with K than boys' names," Rube said.
"Kevin," Daisy said. "Kerry."
"Kerry's a girls' name, isn't it?" George asked.
"Could be either," Mason said. "One of those androgynous names."
"Oh, you mean like Mason?" George said.
"Fuck no," Mason said. "Mason is a guys' name, you little..."
"Either way," Daisy said loudly, bulldozing over George and Mason's budding conversation, "You knew that K was a girl. So I think you know who K is. And I think you're going, too."
"I am not," Rube said. He might have been getting angry, but the truth was, it was never easy to tell with Rube. "Because I have a soul to pop at 2:30, and your guys' plane..."
- looking at George and Mason – "Leaves in an hour. So you'd better hurry, unless you want to miss it."
"I can't miss work!" George protested. "I just got my job back!"
"I already called," Rube said. "Or rather, your uncle already called. Your cousin was killed tragically in a freak typewriter accident. You've been called to Connecticut to identify the body. Now go, before you miss your plane. Those tickets aren't cheap."---------
Kate Corrigan woke up that morning with no idea that Rube had handed George her name on a post-it note and that George and Mason had already been dispatched to collect her soul. All she knew was that she wanted a cup of coffee. And maybe a bagel – a poppy seed one, with roasted red pepper cream cheese.
Why was it that there were no good bagel places in Connecticut, she wondered. In New York, there had been a bagel place just a block away from her apartment. She'd gone there every morning for years.
Sometimes, though, it was good to shake things up. Although lately things had been a little too shaken for her tastes.
Victims of the frog-monsters were turning up everywhere, and the BPRD had no idea what to do other than try to round up and contain the frog-men. Abe, only recently released from the hospital, would be out of commission for about a week, and the only member of the team who didn't seem upset by their leader's near-death experience was Johann.
Kate wanted to push these thoughts out of her mind, if only for an hour or so. She was supposed to have the day off, so why was she still in her office, buried in paperwork and research? It was a lovely fall day. Maybe she could go shopping or something.---------
Mason and George stepped onto the plane just as Kate Corrigan stepped out of her office, and as the clock started ticking, a shadowy figure slipped a note under Rube's door.
Rube picked it up.
"Son of a bitch," he said.
It was a notice. At the top of the page, highlighted in yellow, were the words 'Clerical error".
Rube picked up the phone and called the airline company.
"When's the soonest available flight from Seattle to Connecticut?" he asked.---------
Next Chapter – George reaps Kate's soul (with some interesting consequences), Mason hits on Liz, and Rube faces the memory of what was possibly the hardest job he ever had to do.