A/N: Just taking a quick break from Yu-Gi-Oh. Don't worry, I'm not leaving that genre any time soon but this story, I just have to write. This is a fanfic about Thir13een Ghosts; some of you may have watched it, some may have not. Nevertheless, I really, really like Dennis Rafkin... you know, the psychic who dies in the end to protect the protagonist? Gah. I really hate it when the witty, clever guy dies.

I'm rambling, I know. Forgive me. Lol. Drop a review, 'kay?

Oh, and this is a one-shot.

Title: Beyond Self-Imposed Boundaries

By: starlight2005

Thir13een Ghosts

"The problem with people is they can't let go; and they've placed too many things in their important list that it makes it even more complicated because by then, the one who does let go will appear to be the foolish one—when he was the only one who did the right thing." Anonymous

In the deep, never-to-be-delved-upon recesses of Dennis Rafkin's mind, he wondered why he was risking so many things for people he didn't know. Sure, the glory and the honor are goddamn fancy to hear—being a chivalrous knight in shining armor does seem grand, don't you think?—but honestly, this wasn't the Middle Ages and he does have high respects for self-preservation, mind you. So, when his feet (which somehow had a mind of their own) planted themselves in front of a futuristic, box house, he finally admitted that he had a weird, destructive hero complex.

It was, frankly put, annoying.

Heck, sometimes it made him re-think if he had made the right decision in working for Cyrus Kriticos. Then again, he was a firm believer in letting the past go—contrary to popular belief—and believe it or not, having a 'gift' that enables you to see and feel nearby spirits (or what he preferred to call as displaced spiritual energies) isn't the best thing a single, should-be-having-an-honest-paying-job like him could have. And honestly, if he were there on that specific moment some wise elder in the past said how such things could be both the boon and the bane of one's existence, he'd walk up to said man and pat him in the back. God, he hated seeing things. He really did—

-- which brings him to his current dilemma: how do you hide from twelve murderous, vengeful ghosts whom you helped imprison in the first place? Not withstanding the fact that he was trapped in a bloody glass house (no one in his right mind will buy a glass house in the middle of nowhere and put Latin inscriptions on the walls, he casually added) with a widowed father, his two children and an annoying, loud and babbling nanny?

The dodging thing wasn't even the type of dodging one usually does when confronted with a dodge ball. Dodgeball wasn't as dangerous as this game he was playing right now, either. Because this time, Dennis realized that he was in a freaking box—a huge, glass box—himself (unlike last time) and well, this time, he doesn't have fancy gadgets to help him or some insightful as well as knowledgeable team mates who can actually help him fight those dreadful, why-oh-why-did-you-even-mess-with-them ghosts. All he had were those glasses, which would have put the saying "Ignorance is bliss" to shame but in the end, can do nothing when a mad woman with rabid teeth was running after you. So when he passed by the glass doors, the opened glass doors that used to trap his endearing friends (don't he just love sarcasm?) and noticed The Jackal missing, he knew he was going to die in this stupid, god-forsaken house.

"Can I rely on you not to get me killed?"

Oh, sure, please do and add burden on my already-burdened shoulders. Wake up, woman; he had to hide them from twelve—TWELVE!—spirits and she wants him to be her bodyguard? His mom, however, had taught him his manners well (again, contrary to popular belief).

"I guarantee you nothing." So get a bloody move on!

As he breathed out a cold, shaky wisp of carbon dioxide, his miniature self displayed itself before his eyes (he was probably going crazy if he was beginning to see figments of his own imagination). Again, he wondered why he was even here when he should have been watching the latest rerun of a TV show that would probably bore him to death—but at least he wasn't running away from psychotic spirits. And sometimes, he reminded himself not to bother because he knew the answer. So, folks, believe it or not, Dennis Rafkin has a conscience and he was convinced that he was going to pay for it with blood, some broken bones, more blood, spilled internal organs… and wow, more broken bones and blood. Wasn't that surprising?

Good riddance, he'd say; but uh-oh, there's the Angry Princess.

And yet, people believe otherwise. Would admitting that he wasn't completely evil—just because he foolishly helped a friend, who seemed to accept him the way he is—completely annihilate the entire human race? Would it? Because honestly, he was human, too; and just because he could see things, insert shudder here, doesn't mean he was the scion of all things unholy and demonic in nature.

It wasn't easy for a nine-year old to see headless nuns by the corridor of his school to his mom. Heck, if he had a choice, he would have rejected the notion of seeing the paranormal if it could spare him a lifetime of horror and heartbreak. He might be an oddball for ending up as a huge nervous wreck just as he accidentally touched a dying grandfather's hand, he might be the one who was always left out because he couldn't move in fear of the shadow lurking by the corners of his room—but that didn't guarantee everyone else the right to forget that he has the right to be selfish, too and that he was completely capable of committing mistakes no matter how grave they may be.

So why, why, why was he inside the freaky house? Because he tried to be righteous and in doing so, he had sealed a one-night contract with an unseen entity he liked to call Fate wherein he got to experience being trapped inside a smaller glass box with an invincible force that was intent on killing him. Of course, the fact that the glasses were with the nanny when he so obviously needed it also helped a lot.

He hated his job, he really did. And as he made another silent vow to help the family that was trapped in this box house with him (which wouldn't have happened if Cyrus hadn't died), he turned to look at Arthur Kriticos, who thought his prayers were finally answered only to realize they weren't.

But let's get our facts straight—he wasn't a heroic, looking-for-eternal-glory man. He didn't want someone to recognize his efforts and give him a break just as the Hammer tried to pulverize his bones with a mallet that's bigger than two heads combined (and definitely heavier). He didn't expect anyone to save him from a certain death just as the twelfth door opened for the Juggernaut. All he wanted was to set things right for once, and if he didn't get to live after that… well, he would just have to deal with that in the afterlife—if there were an afterlife.

As the mallet struck his back and his now-broken body, burning in pain, slowly sank to the floor, the Juggernaut approached but he didn't feel anything striking him. He was probably dead—which, he wasn't, exactly. And how did he find out? Because who knows how many minutes later, he found himself capable of opening his eyes and wow, he was alive.

XXX

Inspired by:

"I hate my job!"

"(a ghost scares him) AHHHHH! I hate it when they do that!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit of a freak! I get within ten feet of anything dead and I go into seizures. I touch anyone and a whole lifetime of shit flashes in front of my eyes!" - Dennis Rafkin

And that particular moment when he and Arthur were cornered by the Hammer (and soon, the Juggernaut). He said something when Arthur had told him not to "do it". Can anyone please tell me what he (Dennis Rafkin) said? I love that scene!