Hi guys.

I posted a small teaser to this fic on Friday 13th with the promise I'll upload more on Halloween. My initial intention was for this to be a one shot and it'd all be posted today. However, this fic has grown and grown in size, and so I've made the executive decision to split it into chapters so I can fulfill my promise of posting more of this fic today. So yeah, this is now officially a multi-chapter fic, though I'm hoping it'll only be the two chapters. The next one should be up in a day or two if all goes to plan.

There aren't really a lot of warnings to go with this fic; it gets a bit suspenseful in places but there's no gore or trauma in it. I just felt like I should cover that since some of the Halloween fics have been so very dark.

Anyway, without further ado, have an AU where OQ are in a Haunted House :)

XxXxX

There's a mist descending, a white blanket shrouding parts of the street and isolating them. Most of the houses are decorated for Halloween; pumpkins lining front doorsteps, fake cobwebs hanging in trees, pretend skeletons posed in front gardens. And yet the pseudo-horror pales in comparison to the eerie atmosphere. The overcast sky mutes every colour until the world is just shades of grey. The usual hustle and bustle of the town has fallen quiet, every click of Regina's heels resounding and echoing throughout the street.

Her footfalls are with purpose; she's planned this, and she knows exactly where she's going.

108 Mifflin Street.

There's been stories about this house - the mansion haunted by lost love - and Regina can't resist the temptation to go and explore it. She's always enjoyed making journeys to abandoned buildings; there is something poetic about Mother Nature reclaiming what is hers after all the stories have played out. But she still likes to learn about the lives of others, pick up clues about the inhabitants and visitors by what is left behind. It used to be an escape from her own life, a life she didn't want to live, but now that she's somewhat settled, it is a pastime she can't quite let go of.

Her gloved hands dig into her pockets, and she tucks her chin further under the collar of her coat. The icy breeze feels like Mother Nature biting at her cheeks, freezing her flesh until she turns into an ornament to decorate one of the neighbours' gardens.

It's then that she reaches the front of her destination; the pathway of number 108. Once Regina has checked over her shoulder to ensure nobody is following her, she walks through the dwindling gap in the untended hedgerows and makes her way up the path. The front lawn is overgrown, the grass having obviously been left to its own devices since the last owner occupied the house. The cracked pavement shifts under her feet, the jagged pieces of concrete grating together with every step she takes up to the front door.

The once-white wood is now a dirty grey, chips of paint flaking off and landing on the floor. And the number 108 which was screwed to the door is now just 10; the top screw of the 8 had come loose, leaving it to dangle below the others.

The windows at the front of the house have a fine layer of dust and dirt covering them, and once Regina has cleared a small circle with her fingers, she peers through to see inside. Predictably, there's nobody in there; just empty rooms with furniture covered in dust sheets.

Pressing her lips together, Regina takes in a deep breath and moves back to stand in front of the door. She reaches out and wraps her fingers around the door handle, her thumb pressing down on the latch as she tries to push the door open. It budges in the frame, but firmly remains shut. Figures, Regina muses. With a small huff, Regina brings her hand back, brushes off the black flakes of paint clinging to her leather gloves, and reaches into her bag to collect the tools she uses for bypassing locks without a set of keys.

She's just grasped the small box when she hears the unmistakable sound of the door in front of her unlocking. Her eyes flick to the latch, watching as it depresses on its own accord and the door slowly creaks open.

Okay…

Regina gazes around the inside, weighing up the options of stepping foot in a place renowned for its ability to scare anyone who dares enter, or turning around and leaving now to head back to the safety of her own apartment.

The sensible option is to leave, of course, but Regina's stubborn and determined to a fault. With one last glance over her shoulder, she makes her way inside, and once she's far enough into the foyer, the heavy door slams shut, and locks behind her.

Alone in the house, the silence is deafening. The only sound Regina can hear is the slow tick-tock of a grandfathers clock, time seeming to pass slower inside than it had outside on the street. Even away from the icy wind, there is still a chill in the air, something that has Regina wrapping her arms around herself as she starts to step forward. The moment her foot falls on the first step up to the entrance hall, the click of her heel echoes around the entire house - loudly enough for her to consider taking off her shoes whilst she wanders around.

She won't though; there's too much dust and goodness knows what critters on the floor. She'd rather make all the noise in the world than tread on that. But she still takes the rest of the steps gingerly, listening out for any other movement from things she could have disturbed.

Once she's up the short flight of stairs, she pauses, unsure of where to turn to next. There's a set of double doors in front of her, and then a large door to both the left and the right. There's also upstairs; the winding staircase is just a turn to the left, and the first floor looks just as interesting as the ground floor.

Pursing her lips and glancing around, Regina decides on going through the double doors in front of her.

As it turns out, the room is rather sparse; only a dining room table with matching chairs, and a cabinet against the left and right walls. The dark curtains are closed, and the only light is what filters in through the windows in the foyer behind her. Realising she's not going to be able to see very much if she relies on natural lighting, Regina tries the light switch - she isn't shocked when the chandelier's bulbs don't work - and then reaches for the slimline flashlight she put in her coat pocket. Her thumb clicks the button at the base, and suddenly she can see every layer of dust lingering in the house, and the flecks which she has disturbed linger and float in the beam of her LEDs.

A quick sweep of the dining room draws nothing to attention. There's a door in the right corner but she'll explore that later - she wants to create a clear map in her mind first - and after a quick check of the empty cabinets, Regina starts to make her way back to the foyer.

Closing the double doors behind her, Regina looks to the door on her left, then to the door on her right, debating which one she should go through. After a quick toss up, she decides to go for the one on her left, aiming to make a circuit and go through the closed door in the dining room to end up back where she started.

When she heads through the next doorway there is another door to her left and to her right, and the strange thing she notices is a catflap on the left one. From the depth of the living room, she knows this door doesn't lead outside, and so why a catflap has been fixed into the wood: Regina has no idea.

With curiosity getting the best of her, Regina opens the door. It's only a spare closet, with a mop and cleaning supplies lining the shelves, but there is a stone figure of a black cat on the floor in the corner, curled up and sleeping with its white-tipped tail wrapped around itself. There's something about the statue that holds her attention. It doesn't particularly unnerve her; there's just something about it that feels important. She tells herself she'll come back to it, making a mental note, and then she closes the door - her eyes remaining on the cat until the wood blocks her view.

Continuing on, she passes a doorway, and peering to her left she notices a kitchen. It's not her favourite place of the house to search for clues; there's always some kind of food left over that's been rotting away, or grime that's not been cleaned and left to fester. But from her position in the doorway, this one actually looks rather clean. She likes it. The pale colours, marble countertops, and a large preparation table in the centre… It's a layout she'd certainly make use of if it were hers.

There doesn't seem to be anything of importance here, and so she decides to leave the kitchen for now. Regina turns to her right and ends up in a study.

Ah... Much better.

A study is good. There are books and paperwork and draws brimming with information there, all sorts of windows into a person's life and interests.

The first thing she's drawn to is the bookcase; there are about a dozen books, all lined up on a shelf from Jane Austen to William Wordsworth, but it's the bookends that draw her in. They're skulls, human skulls, which have been intricately carved to become functional ornaments. It seems a little out of character for this house, and she wonders if there are other carved bones used as decoration here. Perhaps a wind chime of metacarpals, or table legs of femurs.

Regina can't help but pick one up, marvelling that it's lighter than she thought it'd be. She'd always thought that bones were dense, heavy, but this skull can't be heavier than two pounds in the palm of her hand. She lifts it to eye-level, shining her flashlight through it and marvelling at the patterned shadows it creates. This is some really great craftsmanship, someone with a very delicate hand must have carved it, and Regina wonders if…

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sudden sound of music behind her. It's beautiful; a wonderfully played piano piece - but there's still an underlying sinister quality to it, something Regina can't describe.

It's not from within this room; the volume is faint, more likely from the other side of the floor - or perhaps upstairs. But she's sure that she's alone in the house: so who's playing?

Keeping her eyes on the door to the study, Regina reaches out behind her to put the skull bookend back: she's not looking where she's placing it, just making sure it's secure enough to not fall off. She strains her ears, listening for the melody and trying to place it, but just as she thinks she's got it, it stops…

The house is eerily silent once more, except for a quiet tap-tap-tap-tap…

The tapping grows in volume, and it's only when it gets louder that she realises it's the sound of footsteps. And they're coming towards her.

Frozen in place, Regina grips her flashlight tighter, not knowing what good it will do if someone were to attack her - what's she going to do? Flash them to death? - but she feels comforted that she has a makeshift weapon to try and defend herself.

The footsteps reach outside the entrance to the study, and Regina finds herself taking a step back and a deep breath, preparing for the intruder to open the door.

But the door never opens.

The tapping continues, resounding louder and louder, only now it sounds as if it's coming from within the room. A shudder runs through her, and she can feel the hairs on the back of her neck raising. She's hyper-aware of her surroundings; every creak in the house, every gust of wind outside, every thump-thump of her quick heartbeat in her chest. There's a slow, grinding sound from directly behind her, and Regina turns, brandishing her flashlight as she takes several quick steps away. But there's nobody there, and no sign of anyone having been there, except…

The skull. Regina hasn't seen how she'd put it back - too busy staring at the door - but she knows it hadn't been in the same spot it was in before.

It is now.

It's even facing the mirror opposite of its counterpart the other side of the books - something else Regina knows she hadn't done.

This isn't what she'd expected. Her eyes flick between the two skulls, trying to come up with a logical explanation as to how this had occurred. Then there's the sound of footsteps again, but this time they were heading away from the door, getting quieter, and Regina closes her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief.

What on earth just happened?

The music starts again, the melodic sound of piano keys, and Regina grits her jaw as she thinks over her next steps.

She's feeling a little braver now, more determined to work out what the hell was going on, and she finds herself striding towards the study door and pulling it open, stopping in the foyer to grasp where the noise was heading from, and then striding over to there too.

Her bravado fades somewhat when she reaches the door - the last one in the foyer that she hadn't yet gone through - and she pauses for a moment.

What is she doing? She's in a house that isn't her own - which is known for being creepy and having all manner of unexplained phenomenon occur - and following footsteps belonging to nobody to where said nobody was probably playing piano.

This is insane.

She can hear that voice in the back of her head, the one that sounds like her mother telling her to 'stop being so silly, Regina, go home'.

But the days of listening and obeying her mother are over.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, flashlight at the ready, Regina wraps her fingers around the door handle and pushes.

The sound is definitely coming from this room - it's a lot louder here - but just as Regina takes a few steps into what looks like a lounging area, the music stops again.

"Oh come on!"

Regina runs a hand through her hair, frustrated at not being able to figure out what's going on. It almost feels as if someone is toying with her, playing some sort of game. But Regina has never been very good at playing games; she always hates to lose.

"If you want to scare me away you'll have to do better than that," she announces to the house, giving a firm nod of her head as if to make it official.

Then she reminds herself that the house is supposed to be haunted, that people are said to have died in this place… Perhaps she shouldn't be antagonising whatever still resides here.

But now she's curious. Oh so curious.

She has always been a woman of science, only believing in things which can be proven. But this is new to her; she's seeing and hearing things which she can't describe, and she's still not found a logical explanation for them. It unnerves her, but it also excites her.

There's another creak from behind her, and the sound of footsteps - though slower this time - and Regina thinks that this is it; whatever it is will finally show itself to her. Or attack her - like she'd asked - but she's trying not to think about that.

She holds her breath and debates whether to turn around or not: if she did, whatever it is could either get spooked and run away, or get spooked and attack. Neither of which sound like good options. But the thought of just standing there and waiting for the thing behind her to reach her doesn't sound that great either.

In the reflection of the picture frame opposite she sees movement, a shadow moving towards her from behind.

Okay, this is real.

She feels the space around her be disturbed, a breach of her personal bubble, and Regina pauses - not wanting to take a step back into whatever was behind her.

"Boo."

The loud word spoken directly into her ear has Regina yelping, whipping around and swinging her flashlight at whatever being was in front of her.

"Ow! Watch what you're doing, woman. That bloody hurt!"

Regina pauses when she sees the thing that had almost scared her to death was, in fact, a man. A regular, flesh and blood man - who was rubbing his arm and wearing a scowl.

"Watch what I'm doing?" Regina asks, still hearing her heartbeat in her chest as it pumps adrenaline through her body. She whacks his arm with her flashlight again, enjoying his 'ow' as she growls; "watch what you're doing!"

He's actually smirking, the little shit, and Regina fights the urge to punch him in the face. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Well at the moment I'm considering running for my life," he quips. "What's got you all up in arms? Or are you always this..?"

"This what?" she asks, daring him to continue.

"On edge." He's braver than she thought.

"I'm not always on edge," she snaps. "Perhaps random strangers breaking into places and sneaking up on you doesn't bring out the best in people."

"Do you own this place?" he asks.

Regina looks around, taking in all the dust and mess and musing: "Do I really look like the kind of person who would live in a house like this?"

"I reckon it'd suit you," he sasses, and Regina has the urge to punch him in the face again.

"No. This place isn't mine; I have a clean and habitable apartment downtown."

The annoying man folds his arms across his chest and smirks. "Then you're breaking in too."

"Excuse me, I didn't break anything."

"Then how did you get in?"

'The house let me in' probably isn't the best thing to say at this point; any credibility she currently has will disappear.

"Front door." Technically it wasn't a lie.

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you so full of questions?"

"Would you prefer if I didn't try to make conversation?"

She can hear the sarcasm in his voice, but she still can't help but tease; "yes, actually. That would be wonderful."

With a hand over his heart, the man scoffs. "I'm wounded."

"I'm sure your ego will survive."

"Easy for you to say; you're not a man," he comments.

"Oh, you noticed?"

"Well…" She doesn't let him finish; she fixes him with a glare, and when she catches his eyes wandering over her she shines her light in his face.

He sheepishly turns, starts walking over to the desk behind him, asking; "have you found anything interesting yet?"

"Interesting?"

"Weird, strange, inexplicable…" he lists, and Regina can't help but glance in the direction of the study, remembering impossible footsteps, moving skulls, and creepy music. The man must have picked up on it, seeing something in her gaze and answering his own question: "you have."

He walks towards her with purpose, and when he's barely an arm's length he inquires; "what is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Tell me," he demands, and Regina bristles.

"Watch your tone."

"Sorry," he apologises, taking a breath and deflating. "Sorry, I'm just… taking everything I can get right now."

Regina frowns. "For What?"

He holds up a device, a small box with an arc of lights ranging from green to red. Regina's no expert but she's seen these things before.

"You're a ghosthunter?" she asks, trying to keep judgement from her tone.

"Yeah, it's an EMF meter. It detects EMFs."

"You don't say…"

"Look, my point is; I'll believe you," he insists. "Whatever has happened whilst you've been here, I will listen, and I will believe you."

There is something about him that's approachable, Regina muses, but she's not that gullible. "It doesn't matter what has happened; ghosts don't exist."

"You're in 108 Mifflin Street, and you're still not a believer?"

"Why would I be?" She asks, before getting frustrated and snapping: "Dead is Dead; you can't bring people back."

"No, but you can know that they're happy, wherever they are."

Regina stops, hearing the quiet pain in the man's voice, and she knows then they could have more in common than she originally thought: "Who did you lose?"

In an uncharacteristic show of avoidance, the man opposite her turns away and finds something to look at on the desk behind him.

Regina feels the need to press further, but she lets it go - god knows how she wants him to stop talking - and she uses the quiet time to look around the room she's in.

There's a sofa and two chairs facing each other, a table in the middle of them, and there's a large canvas of two horses on the wall opposite her, hanging above a large fireplace - though upon closer inspection there looks to be a tear in the middle of it. Regina runs her fingers over the frayed edges, parting the fabric to find a hole in the wall behind it. Interesting. There's nothing around that could have been used or thrown to create that, and so there's not a lot she can piece together from it. But someone once got angry in this room, angry enough to ruin a beautiful painting.

Letting go of the curiosity for now, Regina turns and browses the rest of the room.

To her right is where Robin is, a small desk and chair set against the wall and more foresty artwork hanging above it. It looks lovely, but there doesn't seem to be much in here that she can work with - apart from knowing the inhabitant liked horses and nature.

But it's then that she notices: there's not even a piano in this room. There are square imprints on the floor in the far corner, the placement of which suggests a piano was here, but it isn't any longer. So where had the music come from?

Regina's so wrapped up in her thoughts that she doesn't hear the footsteps behind her.

"Where's the basement?"

Whipping around, Regina finds that the man has snuck up on her again - she hits him with her flashlight in response. "Stop doing that!"

"I was trying to find the basement," he comments, not seeming to realise how quickly he's pushing her into a heart attack. "Stop hitting me with your torch."

"Why?"

"Because it hurts."

Regina scoffs. Good. If he keeps sneaking up on her she's going to keep on hitting him. Though that's not what she was asking. "I meant: why are you looking for the basement?"

"There's always ghosts in the basement; it's the best place for a murder."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she quips, half tempted to fulfil his prophecy herself.

"You don't happen to know where the basement is, do you?"

"Beneath us."

"Oh, you're hilarious," he deadpans - Regina feels a lick of pride that she's not the only one feeling annoyance. "Do you know where the entrance is?"

"No."

"Oh." He pauses, and Regina hopes that's the end of his questions - though no such luck; "What about the attic then? Do you know how to get to that?"

"I've only seen this floor," Regina snaps in frustration. "I'm going upstairs next."

"Great. I'll join you."

No, that's not what she meant. That's the exact opposite of what she meant.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

Regina turns, ready to protest, but when she's facing him she sees the determination in his eyes. It's the same determination she sees in the mirror, the same which has a tendency to get her into trouble. It's simply not worth arguing with him.

Setting her jaw and taking a breath, Regina fixes him with a glare. "Just… don't get in my way."

He smirks, folds one arm across his torso and bends in a mock bow. "I wouldn't dream of it."

There's something familiar about those words, something about their exchange that has Regina feeling deja vu, a sense so strong she can't help but ask: "have… have we met before?"

A frown appears on the man's face, but then a small smile grows and he replies: "I doubt I'd ever forget meeting you."

Rolling her eyes at the cheesy one-liner, Regina pushes it aside for now; all manner of inexplicable things are happening in this mansion, this is not the strangest.

They walk in silence to the stairs, and Regina finds that she actually enjoys the company when he's not talking; it's somewhat of a comfort to not be on her own in this house.

Though half way up he opens his mouth to speak again, and Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm Robin, by the way."

"That's nice."

There's the sound of a frustrated sigh behind her, and Regina smirks.

"Come on," Robin groans. "if we're exploring a haunted house together I should at least know your name."

Regina scoffs. "Why? In case you need to scream it out later?"

The moment the words leave her lips she realises her mistake. "Shut up. Not like that."

To give Robin some credit, he doesn't tease her about it like she thought he would, nor does he press for her name. Instead he draws the conversation back to the ongoings of the house; "So… what did you see here?"

"I…" Regina starts, but the thought of putting what had happened into credible words feels like an impossible task. "It sounds stupid."

"Hey…" Robin reaches out and Regina feels a light tap on her elbow. She stops on the stairs and turns her head to look over her shoulder at him. Her gaze meets his as he vows: "I promise you there is no judgement here."

It sounds crazy but she believes him. There's something about him that makes her want to share, a wild instinct inside her that wants to open up and exchange parts of herself with him. On any other day she'd dismiss it, but there's something about this house that feels like encouragement.

She decides to start with something not too weird; giving her chance to try and explain it away if he laughs at her. "The front door was locked, and as I was about to pick it, something pressed down on the latch and opened it."

"Right."

Regina pauses. That's it? She's told him the door unlocked and opened by itself and he's just accepted it as fact? He hasn't questioned it, asked if there was a draught, or if she could have nudged it...

"And then I was looking at these bookends that are made from carved skulls, and I put one down, but then it shifted to the exact position and angle that it was before, without me even touching it."

"That is weird."

Again, he's just accepted it. She could tell him there were eyes in the ceiling and blood on the walls and he'll probably believe her. She won't do that though; won't lie to him. The mere thought of it makes her insides twist for some reason.

"And then there was this music…"

"Music?"

"It sounded like someone was playing piano, but when I went into the room to see who it was, the music stopped." She pauses, telling herself it's not for dramatic effect (she's not that into scary stories), before lowering her voice to add: "and there wasn't even a piano in that room."

"This is…" Robin stops, obviously trying to find the words, and Regina worries that it's going to be 'ridiculous' or 'silly' or something else dismissive. "Awesome."

"Huh?" That is certainly not what she expected him to say. She's grateful he believes her, but how is any of this 'awesome'? She about had a heart attack and this guy is grinning from ear to ear.

"There's been so many stories from here, but I've not heard anything like this before," he explains. "The house has never been this active."

Regina looks over the stair bannister at the ground floor and wonders aloud: "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Regina asks, wanting answers and frustrated at not being able to get any.

A slow grin spreads over Robin's face. "Isn't that exciting?"

"Whatever." Rolling her eyes, Regina turns and carries on up the stairs, preparing to go and find her own explanations for things.

"Wait," Robin calls out, and Regina hears the sound of his footsteps on the stairs as he catches up with her. "I still don't know your name."

She thinks about denying him, of waiting until a time she chooses to give her name, but to save the hassle of him asking again (or god forbid he come up with some stupid nickname for her) she turns to him and divulges: "It's Regina."

"Regina…" Something registers within him, she can see it in his eyes, and she wonders if it's the deja vu sense she got earlier. "Nice to meet you, Regina."

They smile at each other for a moment, long enough for awkwardness to start creeping in, but then their attentions are drawn to the sudden sound of a pained scream coming from upstairs.

They both freeze, eyes wide with alarm as they stare up towards the first floor in case they catch any sight of movement.

Robin slowly makes his way up the few steps between them, coming to stand directly behind her. To say that the past couple of times he did this Regina hit him with her flashlight, this time feels remarkably comforting: she knows there's someone who's got her back.

"Are you on your own?" he lowly asks in her ear.

Regina hesitates; she knows he's asking if they have any back-up, but answering would mean admitting her level of vulnerability here, so she deflects, "are you?"

Robin doesn't seem to have her qualms, and immediately replies, "yeah."

She takes a deep breath in, then releases it, and then nods as she decides to answer his earlier question: "Yes."

His hand appears out of the corner of her eye, palm up and fingers twitching. Regina turns to look at him over her shoulder and oh he's very close.

"Together?" he asks, with a tilt of his head, and Regina's almost tempted. But she's not some naïve princess who needs saving by a Prince Charming.

"I'm not holding your hand," she announces as she resumes up the steps - hoping she looks braver than she feels. "I don't need a saviour."

"Of course not, milady."

Regina almost corrects his use of a stupid nickname - she told him her own one for that precise reason - but then she reaches the top of the steps and her words falter. She looks to her left, then to her right, and she's not even slightly comforted by the fact that she sees nothing.

What if there's something preparing to jump out at her? What if there's something waiting in one of the rooms to attack when she enters? What if-

"Are you sure you don't want me to go first?" Robin asks from behind her.

With a huff she steps forwards and turns to her left, intending to explore with or without him. Her flashlight illuminates the door handle as she reaches out for it, but then she hears Robin from behind her.

"Regina, turn around."

Regina drops her hand and huffs. "What now?"

"Just turn around."

She spins on her heel to see what Robin wants this time, but she only sees the back of his green coat since he's facing the other end of the hallway. Her hand reaches out, preparing to tap his shoulder to get his attention, but then she sees the purple glow around them which wasn't there before. He's blocking whatever is causing it, and so Regina leans to the side to peer around him.

There's the figure of a woman hovering around five metres away from them, ghastly and translucent, radiating a purple light. Her clothing hangs off of her, torn strips of fabric just brushing the floor, the hood of her cape fraying around the edges. She's just hovering and wavering, her gaze boring into theirs, but there's a look in her eyes that gives both of them pause.

What is she doing? It feels like she is just waiting, biding her time, but every second that passes is adding to the unease they both feel.

Regina's breath catches in her throat, not wanting to move for fear of inciting this ghostly figure to actually do something.

As it turns out, she doesn't need to worry about that; in the next moment, the woman's jaw drops as she lets out another one of those pained screams, her arms lift in front of her and she rushes towards them.

Within a second Regina has turned, hands reaching out for the door handle behind her and frantically twisting it.

"Regina! Come on! Hurry up!" Robin shouts from behind her, a hand urgently pressing at her back.

"I'm trying!" she shouts back. "It's not budging."

Robin reaches around her, his hand joining hers on the handle, and on their next attempt the door opens. They both fall through, stumbling and catching themselves, before rushing to close the door behind them.

They take a couple of steps back in tandem, their eyes fixed on the gap under the door where the purple glow illuminates the floorboards.

Will the door even matter? Could she walk straight through it?

The screaming stops.

They wait with bated breath, not even daring to blink for fear of missing something, but after a long moment, the glow starts to fade, dimming the room until the only sources of light are the curtained window and Regina's flashlight.

Both of them let out a sigh of relief. They're safe - for now.

With the risk of danger somewhat abated, Regina looks around her and the room they were forced to seek refuge in. It was completely empty, except for rows upon rows of candles. They're all in various floor-standing holders, twisted metal things which bring them to about the height of her shoulders.

"This is a little weird," Robin comments from beside her, fishing out a lighter from his pocket to try and light one.

"In this house, nothing seems to surprise me anymore."

The wick lights, but then the flame flickers and extinguishes.

"What?" he tries again, and the same thing happens; the flame flickers then extinguishes. But there's no draught, no logical reason for the candles not to light.

Regina steps further into the room, preparing to give it a try because honestly, how difficult is it to light a candle?

Apparently, it's not that difficult at all; the moment she steps forward, the candle nearest to her spontaneously ignites.

Robin folds his arms. "Oh so the candles like you then?"

"They're candles," Regina deadpans. "How can candles be sentient?"

"I don't know. How can candles light themselves?" he sasses in response. "None of this makes sense."

Regina rolls her eyes at him, of course none of this makes sense; they're in a haunted house, it's not going to abide by any rules of nature.

Robin takes another step into the room, and Regina notices the candle next to him ignite.

"I guess they do like you after all," she comments with a smirk.

It's his turn to roll his eyes this time, but he turns serious when he steps forward: the lit candle extinguishes, and the one in front of him lights.

"Huh… so it's only the candles nearest to us which will light?" he asks.

Regina doesn't have an answer, but to test his theory she takes a step further away from him.

The extra candle she'd put between them lights, but the one in the middle also stays lit.

"Well, there goes that hypothesis."

Testing a theory of her own, Regina takes two steps to the side. The flames follow her.

It wasn't the candles nearest to them; it was the candles between them. A bizarre path of light guiding their way to each other. It was beautifully poetic if not slightly disconcerting.

Deciding to go along with this strange, sentient house, Regina starts to follow the light to Robin. It feels strange as she takes steps forward; something akin to deja vu but also something completely different. Just something that tells her she has taken a version of this path before.

She reaches not a foot away from him and the single flame between them glows brighter, though this time the candles around them ignite in a spiral until the whole room is aglow. They look around in awe, marvelling at the beauty of it all, and then their eyes meet.

A smile passes between them, and Robin takes a step even closer to her, the toes of his shoes almost reaching hers. His eyes fall to her mouth, and Regina takes in a sharp inhale with the knowledge of what could be about to happen. Her lips part and her gaze drops, wondering if she should just close her eyes and let him make a move.

She would, if there wasn't a small voice in the back of her mind telling her to stop being so hopelessly romantic. She doesn't know this guy, she doesn't even know his last name, he could be anyone or anything, a dangerous psychopath, a convicted thief, a serial con artist…

Her foot slides back, preparing to take a step away and break whatever spell he has her under.

Then the lights go out.

They're in complete darkness - Regina's flashlight flickered and faultered the same time as the candles - and the house falls deathly silent.

"Robin?" Regina whispers, reaching out in his general direction.

She feels his hand grasp hers as he stands next to her. "What do we do?"

"I don't know," she replies, straining her eyes to try and watch out for any movement in the dark around them.

The purple glow appears again, though instead of illuminating under the door, the panels on the inside of the room are lit.

They both know what this means.

The two of them turn in tandem, slowly twisting until they can see what they know is there.

The ghost is back.

They don't wait for her to move again; as Regina stares and keeps watch, Robin quickly leads them back towards the door and tries the handle.

"It's not working again!" he grunts, putting all his weight into shouldering the door jamb, but it's no use.

Not willing to wait, Regina turns to try and help, but then they hear the shrill scream, and know it's only a matter of seconds before she catches them. Her fingers grasp Robin's over the handle, twisting and pulling until it opens. They don't stop once they've closed the door behind them; they run and run until they're the other end of the hallway, opening, entering, and closing the second door without a hitch.

They back up further still until they're standing before a window, a gossamer curtain slightly billowing at their ankles and letting through a bit more light than the other room.

With hands still held firmly in each other's grasp, their gazes remain fixed on the door, hoping to god that whatever or whoever is out there can't come through the sturdy wood.

They wait for several long moments, the adrenaline running through their systems starting to fade somewhat as their breathing levels out.

"Are we safe?" Robin asks, his volume lowered to a whisper.

"In this house? I'm not sure anymore."

They wait for more long moments, barely daring to move. But with each passing second in which they're not being chased, they feel themselves start to relax. "I think we're all clear," Robin breathes, looking away from the door and towards Regina.

"I think so too," Regina responds, daring to hope.

Let that be the last of it, she prays.

Please...