It had been a normal day, damn it! Normal things had happened! Normal coffee (scalding hot, tasting like burnt tar), normal assignments (finding paperwork, doing research, answering telephone calls), normal weather (light drizzle and over-hanging clouds), normal sandwich, normal conversations… and then somebody just had to go and MESS IT ALL UP! It had been NORMAL, damn it, and Carter liked things to be NORMAL!

The blonde haired, one-eyed groaning mess, sprawled out over the floor in front of him, was not normal. Not average, not ordinary, not regular, not normal. And not welcome.

"Ugh…"

And he was not supposed to be dealing with this!

Patrick Carter had been twenty-two when he had joined the Department of Mysteries. Now he was forty-seven. At twenty-two, he had been an animated young enthusiast looking for some adventure (preferably the kind that didn't damage vital organs or permanently scar, which is why he didn't join the Aurors). At forty-seven, he was a thin-haired, jaded old man looking for some peace. This was not peace.

"Where… where am I? What's happening, un? Where's Danna? What…"

The blonde on the floor was moving. Carter narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you?" he snapped, "How did you get here?"

"Urgh." His uninvited guest yawned and started to stretch, popping more of his spinal cord than Carter could name. When he had finished, he said, "Deidara, un. I was dead… and then I fell through this weird archway thing and now I'm alive. Who're you, un?"

Carter blinked. It'd fallen through the veil? From the afterlife? This… this dead being had fallen through the veil backwards? He had become alive? Right; this was most definitely not normal. Either the thing was re-killed, or it was fatally wounded and hidden in a cupboard. Well… luckily this could be easily solved.

"Back you go," he said, and gave 'Deidara-un' a hefty shove in the direction of the ever-present whispers. Unfortunately, the …ah, the person of as-of-yet-unspecified gender… was not having any of it.

"No fucking way," it said. "I'm dying old this time. Do you have any idea how fucking boring it gets having eternal perfection? Because I do. Four fucking years and I'm already sick to the back teeth of it. And I wasn't even married, either. Fucking hell. The amount of people getting it off up there is unnatural, un."

Carter was getting more and more annoyed. Who did this young scoundrel think it was? Barging into life like that like some misbehaving toddler? Swearing like a sailor in front of a well-respected ministry employee? Answering back? Being abnormal? Who did it think it was? Sounded like a bastardised version of one of the Weasley boys. Those identical ones. John and Tom, wasn't it? Anyway, it was annoying. It needed to go back. Right…now.

"Stop pushing me, un – it's not gonna work."

"You will go back!"

"I don't want to."

"You will."

"Danna's there. Danna's a pain. Especially at the peak of health. I'm not going back, un. Introduce me to someone interesting."

"I will find a way if it's the last thing I do…"

"It's not gonna work, un. Who are you, anyway? You never told me."

"Patrick Carter. And would you stop being such a stubborn ba- ain in the neck."

"I think you meant bastard, un."

"Will you just-"

The It started towards the door. Carter (having been leaning on it before in an effort to try and return it) fell over.

"Sayonara, loser, un!"

"No! Wait!" Carter felt his liver dropping into his boots. This was not good. It wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't supposed to leave. It wasn't supposed to… employees weren't supposed to… "Do you have any idea how annoyed my boss is going to get?!"

"Not my problem, un!"

"He'll think I just let you in here!"

"Probably. I don't care. See ya!"

"But you're-"

"I don't care! See ya!"

The door slammed. From the other side came a triumphant whoop and the sound of something splintering.

"Dead," finished Carter, feeling strangely at a loss, for some reason. "Damn," he thought. "Damn. I'm not supposed to let people in here. I'm going to get sacked."

He got up off his knees, stood up, brushed himself off.

"Damn," he said. "Damn, damn, damn." And then he took off running.