“It's written all over you, Bellamy. You might be an all-powerful force of the universe when you're invisible, but you are center stage now, and you're improvising. You were smitten with Rose and now you're improvising a last act love story.” Blythe lowered the gun, feeling bad for the man in front of her. “The problem is, dear, you weren't hired to play a love story. You're the cloaked figure who carries a scythe and ends love stories. You're here to take me away. The longer you stay, the worse it gets. The more painful it becomes for everyone involved. You can't take Rose with you without killing her. You can't stay without messing up the natural order of the universe. And you know I mean every one of my threats. Wherever I go, I'll never rest until you pay for ruining my daughter's future and breaking her heart. So, what's the deal, Bellamy? You want to stick to the script, or do you want to reap the consequences of my wrath?” She lifted the unloaded weapon again, pressed it against her forehead. “Decide now.”

He lunged forward with an outstretched arm, stopped short, and balled his fist in frustration. “You win, Blythe. Don't pull that trigger. Whatever you do, don't destroy this for me. For Rose.”

“So, you do think it can work out. You think there can be a happy-ever-after.”

“I—I don't know.”

“Not a good answer.”

“I hope there can be a way,” he admitted. “I feel like there can be. It's…it’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

As he sank back into the sofa, Bellamy's entire being seemed to relax. He was no longer stiff, poised. He was the young man whose form he'd taken, the laid-back, carefree youth from her past, come to life. The son she might have had, had her life unfolded differently. Hank Bonden's son. It was no longer Death sitting opposite her; it was the man before death, the long-lost soul from another epoch, hoping beyond hope that he might finally get to live out the life that Fate had previously denied him. To fall in love and be loved in return, unconditionally. To have a family if he wanted, or didn't. To make new mistakes and form new regrets, and use centuries of secondhand experience to make Rose as happy as he possibly could for the rest of her life.

If even half of that was true, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to find a way.

She lowered the gun once more and sighed. “I think it's time you let me help you, Bellamy. Whatever crisis you're in, maybe we can find a way through it. For Rose.”

“In that case,” he said, “first I need to tell you about an unusual rendezvous I had recently. One that threw me off my game.”

“By rendezvous, you mean you were summoned to help someone pass on?”