Short ficlet, also intended for Valduggery week!

She didn't know what had happened. One minute, twin streams of fire blasted from his hands, and his head was tilted back as if to say, look at me, aren't I impressive?

And then the Necromancer got in a lucky shot, and he was on the ground, and Valkyrie screamed, without end, like she couldn't stop, screaming her terror and rage and despair. The Necromancer took one look at her and disappeared, shadow walking off to who-knows-where, and she forced herself to not think about her, not think about revenge, because Skulduggery was at her feet and shadows were steaming off his clothes.

Valkyrie dropped to her knees, almost hoping he was becoming Vile, that he was protecting himself somehow, like she did with Darquesse, but the shadows wouldn't stick, wouldn't hold together to create the shell that formed his armor.

"Skulduggery?"

Nothing.

She took him by the shoulders and shook him desperately.

"Skulduggery, please." Her hands clutched at his torn shirt. "Please, please, please, say something." He didn't breathe. He had no heartbeat. There was nothing to tell her he was still with her.

"I need you. Stay with me. I love you, Skulduggery, just… just be okay."

But his skull was impassive, lifeless, unmoving.

She dropped her head to his chest, hands bunched into fists, and felt fresh tears pour down her cheeks as –

As his ribcage started shaking accompanied by a low, muffled sound.

Valkyrie pulled back, alarmed, and watched as Skulduggery Pleasant laughed in her face.

"I never knew you had such a flair for the dramatics."

Valkyrie gaped.

"Though you've learned it all from me," he said, thoughtfully. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"What… what were you…?"

He tilted his head, as if contemplating his answer. "Have you ever felt the urge to sit in on your own funeral? It was like that."

Valkyrie stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Are you going to get off me?"

A lot of words rolled through Valkyrie's mind, but she didn't think any of them quite suited the situation. Her hands moved upwards towards his collar, and Skulduggery winced and tried to pull away from her without much effect. Her thumb brushed against his façade tattoo. She didn't care what his face looked like. She just had to see him. Alive.

He only had time to blink at her in confusion before she pressed her mouth to his, hard, and kissed him until she could feel him gasping for a breath he didn't need to take. She kissed him for every second, every thought she had where she thought she had lost him, every heartbeat that had thudded in her chest as she waited for him to say something, anything. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, the other slid down her back.

Valkyrie pulled back slowly, letting her lips brush against his softly, and then, before he opened his eyes, slapped Skulduggery with all her strength.

He actually cried out. She was impressed with herself.

"I am really, really, really glad you're not dead," she said, shifting so she was sitting on his abdomen and looking down at him. "But you're an asshole."

Skulduggery looked overwhelmed, face red with an imprint of a handprint and a rather endearing blush.

"I deserved that," he said at last.

"Yes, you did," Valkyrie said firmly.

"I'm very, very sorry," he said, gloved hand sliding up to touch her face. She let him.

"Are you really," she replied, raising an eyebrow, "or are you just trying to get another kiss?"

"Depends on whether or not it's working."

Valkyrie pretended to think about it. "No." She slid off of him and got to her feet, offering him a hand to help him up.

"Why not?" he asked, taking it.

"One kiss per time I thought you were dead, thank you."

"Fair enough," Skulduggery said, and they walked hand in hand. Valkyrie wondered where the Necromancer had wandered off to.

"Though I will add," he said, look on his fake face mischievous, "technically, I'm always dead."

"Don't push it, Pleasant."