Alan J. Corbett – King of the Impossible

Um, so yeah. This is really old, but I just got around to typing it up. Sorry. Also, I will so totally get to doing Twintails. Um. Yeah. Have this instead!!! :| Because really, Corbett was just so awesome. This doesn't do his awesomeness justice.

Disclaimer: Heh. Almost forgot about this. - I do not own anything you recognize, and some things you don't.

Corbett knew many things, things he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to know. He knew that despite the Ghostfacers' admittingly dismal attempts at ghost hunting, the supernatural WAS real, and there was much more to it than just spirits and apparitions. He also knew that they would get footage eventually – but he also knew that nobody but them would see it.

He also knew that his time was running out.

What anyone could realize – and most of them did – was that Ed thought he was a creep. And he kind of was, but it wasn't really his fault. He just – sort of – had a thing for red-heads. And geeks. And, well, beards.

So sue him. It's not like he was actually going to get anything out of it.

As soon as Corbett heard of the Morten House, he knew that that was it. Game over. This was gonna be the one – most likely only – time they would get their footage; but Corbett knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would never get out. And going there – getting that footage – would cost him his life.

But he was the ultimate optimist, and he felt, in the tiniest corner of his brain that also told him he would die, that his greatest hope would come true. If he let it.

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When those two brothers (they never said so, but his gaydar had never once been wrong) had shown up, calling themselves cops, Corbett immediately panicked. That wasn't one of his finest of hours, but he was at the end of his rope. He couldn't be blamed. Mostly. But he didn't actually panic as much as he could have. When they arrived, that tiny corner of his head relaxed. He was going to die – but no one else would follow him into that light. Ed wouldn't die. Ed would live on, and maybe find whatever it was that he was really looking for.

When Sam was coaching him to relax, and he felt a hand that wasn't there and cool metal on his head and on his neck, he took a last, deep breath. Pain, small but sharp, and darkness was what he felt, but, despite everything, he knew he wasn't finished quite yet.

All he knew, all he was, was pain. Loneliness. Darkness. That hot panic and cold metal, over and over and over. Dimly, he saw Ed. Ed and Harry and Maggie, surrounded by salt and terrified, but still, still filming. But he dismissed that. That wasn't real – only the pain was real. Besides, he was terrified, himself. He was about to die, after all.

Through the haze of pain and panic, he heard long cherished but never expected words.

"I love you." The words, though hesitantly spoken, snapped him to reality. He realized now that he was dead already, from his there-but-not-there body, like those hands that killed him, the even stronger sense, so much more powerful that he couldn't ignore it any more, and, most telling of all – lack of breath. But that didn't matter. All he could do was stare at Ed, with desperate eyes and tear streaked face. Before he could reply – God, how he wanted to reply, - Corbett found that vile darkness, and a strong, powerful – slightly tainted - light – and knew what he had to do.

Traveling when dead was kinda weird, he thought fleetingly, irreverently, but when he got there, immediately focused on that corrupted death. It would kill the light, then hurt Ed.

That was not going to happen. Corbett charged.

Brightness, explosion and implosion, then light, warmth, everything. Corbett felt peace. Now everyone would be safe.

He didn't know where that thought came from, but the truth of it was the last thing he knew.

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- Ghostfacers tag - uh, slightly belated, but hey, whatever.

last updated 14/12/09