Chapter One

Death wasn't what I had expected.

In fact, death felt the same as life. Just quieter. More peaceful. Lonelier. But I walked on the same plane as those still living, with no Heaven or Hell to go to. Was I supposed to be here, walking with the living? Then again, I had been one of them only a day ago, alive and well, young and thriving. I was only eighteen.

When I woke up—or, perhaps, when my soul woke up—after dying, everything seemed the same. I could smell and breathe. I could feel the wind moving through my hair, a gust knotting it up. I could see and think, and I felt rational. The only hint I had that I was dead was that I had risen up out of my wet, salt-covered body, dragged from the sea.

It wasn't the fact that I had risen out of my body that freaked me out, nor was it the fact that I was dead at all. As I reached out to touch the shoulder of the man that had pulled me out of the sea, to tell him that I was all right—that I was right here—my hand went right through him. I fell forward, stumbling to the ground.

"Excuse me, sir," I tried, sitting on my knees and reaching out for him again. Once more, my hand and arm went right through his body. I retracted, cradling my arm in my other hand, staring at it because I couldn't do anything else. I looked just fine. I wasn't translucent, I felt solid to myself, and I wasn't sliding through the earth beneath me. So, what was wrong?

"Sir, I'm fine! I may not be attached to my body anymore, but I'm still here! Sir! Can you hear me?" I felt tears burning in my eyes, and I reached out to push the man's shoulder again, despite my knowing its uselessness. But this time, my hand didn't slide through him. The man moved with my hand, bouncing forward as I pushed. "Oh my…"

The man didn't respond to my question, but he looked around, trying to see who was around. His eyes landed on me a few times, but there was nothing on his face that told me that he saw me or heard me. But he reached a hand up to his shoulder, rubbing it and shaking his head. He felt it. He just couldn't see me.

I didn't try to touch the man again. I sat beside my body, staring at my face… my closed eyes, my pale flesh… staring at my damp clothes—though it was probably silly to think, I was glad I had died in that outfit; it was my favorite, and now I could wear it all the time.

Minutes passed. The man who failed to save me made several calls, and after a few attempts to revitalize me, the ambulance finally came for my body. I didn't know who the man was, but I was grateful that he had called for help, anyways. I was glad that he had gotten me out of the sea.

I remained beside the man, the two of us just sitting there on the sandy beach, as they loaded my body into the ambulance. I felt no need to go with them; it wasn't like they would care that I was there, and I was positive that I didn't want to be there when they told my mother. My poor mother… I couldn't handle seeing or hearing her response.

Another man, with white hair and a beer belly, came up to the man who I had been sitting with. He plopped down onto the beach right where I was sitting, his whole body going right through mine like I wasn't even there. All I could see was darkness now, so I moved away, crawling to the other side of the big man.

"Carson, that girl is dead. Long dead and long gone. You don't need to sit here and feel guilty about it."

It was weird hearing that word. Dead. Especially when said about me. It seemed to finalize everything. Even though I had watched and listened to the men carry my body away on a stretcher, no one mentioned the word until now. But now that the word was there floating around, it just seemed like I had really disappeared.

"But I'm not gone," I replied, but the two men didn't even acknowledge me. Right. Because they couldn't hear or see me.

"I know. I know there wasn't anything I could do—she was dead when I found her." The man named Carson tugged at his baseball cap, looking uncomfortable. "But, Jay, do you know who that girl is?"

Jay shook his head. "I didn't get a good look at her, honestly."

Silence. I could hear Carson swallow, a loud gulp in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. "That was the League Champion. Lyra or something. She's only eighteen." He paused, and Jay swallowed next, jamming his hands together. "I always thought the Champions were all invincible. None of them have ever died while they were still Champion. And none of them have ever died this young."

"No one is invincible, Carson. Obviously this girl's time was up."

I felt the hot tears burning in my eyes again. Shaking my head, I rose to my feet, beginning to walk. I couldn't just sit there and listen to them talk about me. How could my time have been up? It didn't make any sense.

So, I left Carson and Jay to sit there alone. Well, they thought they were alone, anyway, so it really didn't make a difference.

It really didn't make a difference.

That was it? Now that I was dead, nothing I did made any difference? Then, why was I still wandering around on this plane with the living? Why wasn't I gone? I didn't see any other ghosts walking about, so why was I?

Ghosts? Was that what I was? A ghost? Well, sure, if there were ghost Pokémon running around, why couldn't there be ghost people? That made sense. But if it did, why was I seemingly the only one? Where were the rest of them?

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" I called out, hoping that someone—anyone—would respond. But as I walked and walked, trying to find someone to talk back, no one answered. I walked from Olivine City to Ecruteak, but the only acknowledgment I got was from some wild Pokémon that could obviously sense me.

And last time I checked, ghosts didn't actually exist. Just ghost Pokémon. So, why was I expecting that anyone could hear me?

Daylight was fading into twilight, the sun setting into the horizon. I wondered where my body was now. I wondered if my mother had been told yet. I wondered if Ethan and Silver knew. I wondered if it was on the news. Hell, I could walk into a Pokémon Center and watch the news if I wanted to. I could find out if my death was important.

I remembered going to the Ecruteak Pokémon Center. So much had happened in this town, and now, I had to give it all up. Just like that. My Pokémon were gone—who knew what they had done with them? My life was gone. My body was gone—all the more evident when I reached for the door to the Pokémon Center and went right through it.

That was getting really old.

I walked straight through the door, fazing in and out of it without faltering. I heard the television talking about me before I saw it. But when I looked at the screen, seeing a picture of my young, thirteen-year-old self, I had to turn away. It wasn't as though I could see, anyway. The tears were in my way.

It all just seemed impossible. How could this have happened?

"Isn't that the League Champion they're talking about?" one girl asked from her spot on the couch, pointing to the screen. The boy next to her nodded. I looked at them both, waving my hand in front of their faces. Nothing. "Leader Morty knows her, doesn't he? Oh, this is just terrible! I wonder if he's heard this yet."

The boy shrugged, and the two of them rose together, walking through me. I watched as they left the Pokémon Center, hand in hand. Rage rose within me, and I clenched my fists, kicking at the couch they had just abandoned, only to see it move.

"Make up your mind! Let me go through you or stay solid!" I screamed at the inanimate object, as if it could hear me. Then, collapsing onto the couch, which supported my weight, I wept, streams flowing cleanly from my eyes. How was any of this fair? They said life wasn't fair, but wasn't death supposed to be?

I would never have that. I would never hold hands with anyone. I would never fall in love. I would never have a family.

Because I was dead.

I sat up, sitting straight on the couch and rubbing the tears away from my eyes. "Well, now what? I guess I can talk to myself aloud since no one can hear me. I guess that's nice." I paused, smiling to myself. "This sucks."

It sucked even more when I fell through the couch, half my body above it, and half inside of it. Grumbling, I rose to my feet and walked out of the couch, brushing myself off out of habit, not because there was any dirt on me.

"What do ghosts do exactly?" I wondered, hoping that some Ghost-Lord would pop up in front of me and assign me a job. It didn't happen. So, I considered my options. "I could walk around aimlessly for the rest of my life—" I stopped, snapping my fingers. "Oh… wait, I'm dead. Scratch that. I could… haunt someone."

Well, people-watching had always been one of my favorite hobbies, so maybe haunting people would be fun. At least for a little while.

I didn't have to think very long before I knew exactly who to haunt. While haunting Ethan or Silver would be comical to say the least, I would probably miss them more than I would enjoy haunting them. And my mom would be too sad, so I wouldn't get anything good out of that.

But that couple had mentioned Morty. And who better to haunt than the King of Ghosts himself, especially when I was already in Ecruteak? There was a certain irony to the situation, I noted. A master of ghost-type Pokémon wouldn't even be able to tell that the League Champion was haunting him—though surely his Pokémon would know.

Being dead was definitely not what I expected. Unfair, maybe, and depressing—but I could make this work.

I hurried over to the Ecruteak Gym, sliding through the wall of the Pokémon Center instead of walking through the door. Heck, if I was dead, I didn't need to worry about being lazy. It wasn't like I could die again. But other than being able to walk straight through objects and people, being dead felt exactly the same as being alive. So, maybe I could die again.

Walking through the entrance of the Ecruteak Gym, I moved right through the walls into the main arena, glancing around at the place. Everything looked the same, with the same drab décor as the first time I had entered the building.

"Really, Morty, just because you're a fan of ghost-types doesn't mean your Gym has to look dead, too. Because I can honestly say that ghosts do not approve of it. I'm more of a fan of bright colors," I said, twirling around and staring at the dark walls and stone flooring.

"Lyra, is that you? What are you doing here?"

I froze upon hearing my name, my mouth dropping as far as it could go. I definitely just heard my name. And I definitely just heard Morty say it. It couldn't have been my imagination. I might have been dead, but I never hit my head.

Turning around, I faced Morty as he approached me, a pleased grin on his lips. "You haven't stopped by the Gym in a few years. How are you, Lyra?"

I checked over my shoulder, making sure he wasn't speaking to anyone else. He just stared at me with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, you're the only Lyra I know."

"You can see me?" I asked, stepping closer to him and waving a hand in front of his face. He just laughed at me, rolling his eyes.

"Of course."

"And you can hear me." This one wasn't a question. I knew he could hear me. Otherwise he wouldn't have responded to my previous question. But this was so confusing. How could Morty see me and hear me if no one else could?

"Lyra, are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

I shook my head, my jaw still dropped. Then, without even thinking, I thrust my hand towards his chest. Much to my chagrin, it went straight through. Morty jumped back, yelling a curse word that I didn't even know he knew, staring at my outstretched arm.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, reaching out his hand and trying to touch mine. But, just as I expected, his hand couldn't grasp mine. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you… not solid?"

I let my arm fall to my side, and in a quiet voice, I said, "I'm dead, Morty."

This apparently was not the answer he was looking for. He stood there for a moment, staring at me with his wide purple eyes, before laughing. Quiet at first, it grew into hysterics, and he was soon doubled-over with laughter.

He stopped when a third person cleared their throat.

"Excuse me, Leader Morty," one of his Trainers said, a concerned look upon his face. "Are you all right, sir?"

Morty blinked, looking at me before nodding at the boy.

"Well, a few of us were watching the news a few minutes ago. We heard that Champion Lyra… um… well, sir, she died. We didn't know if you knew about it, but… we thought you'd want to know."

Morty just blinked again. And then, with one last look at me, he walked out of the room.

Author's Note: Another chaptered fic! I highly doubt that any of you were expecting this from me, but I really enjoyed writing that Lyra/Morty one-shot. And this idea popped into my head almost immediately after I put that one up.

I am SO mean to Lyra/Kotone. Between "Crushed" and this? Gosh. I'm so mean. I promise that I'm not this mean in real life. People were voting for me for "Friendliest" as one of our Senior Class Superlatives. So… I'm not mean. XD

This is weird. I've never written about ghosts. But it's an interesting concept. Ghosts are a lot of fun to believe in. :D Anyway, I've rambled enough. I hope you enjoy this fanfic! It's not going to be as angsty as "Crushed", but, then again, what is?

By the way, "Phasmatic" isn't a word. It's not a spelling mistake, though. There is a reason it's called "Phasmatic". ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.