My second bat boy fic! And now this archive has been boosted. I have a soft spot for this pairing so here's the first fic for it- it might be a bit au but I think it could work in context too.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bat Boy the Musical

"That girl... is... dead?"

Clunk.

Ruthie Taylor opened one eye, her IV bags the first objects that met her vision. Clunk. The ceiling fan spun above her, loud and obnoxious, like the flapping of bat wings. She shuddered.

Clunk.

"A-anyone there?"

Nothing.

"Doctor?"

Nothing.

"Mama? Ronnie? Rick?"

The cardiac monitor was louder. Ruthie clenched her eyes tightly. The sounds would go away if she ignored them- it was just her imagination, like the bat monster- it wasn't real- Mama was going to get rid of it. It was gone. Gone. Gone.

"...thie," something echoed.

Her eyes shot open again. That was certainly not the doctor's flamboyant voice. Sure ain't Ronnie's.

"N- nurse?" she squeaked.

The churning of the fan and the beeping of machines were all she could hear. A bout of air popped in one of the metallic boxes, followed by a clunk. There was a gust of wind and for a moment, the curtain swept up. Eyes wide, Ruthie could barely make out a pair of feet under them, covered in polished dressing shoes.

They were "know-it-all" shoes, as Rick would say. The kind that teachers and doctors and other boring people wore.

The beads of sweat on the back of her neck rolled down. Ruthie didn't need a mirror to know how much paler she had gotten.

"You ain't gonna hurt me, are you?"

"Ruthie," the voice said, unnaturally loud. Then, as if guilty, it added in a much softer tone, "Ruthie... is your name?"

It was an odd voice, light and scared- it sounded a bit like the nerd in her homeroom mixed with someone from... from...

"That's my name," she said, adding a little more volume.

From-

"Oh. That's good."

England. That was why the accent was so odd. This person could not have been more annoyingly British if he tried. What was she thinking- why the hell was this person in her room?

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, "and what do ya want!"

She reached for the nurse's button.

"Oh, how rude of me. My name is... Edgar."

It was a he. His voice was softer than her mother's- then again, very few people had voices deeper than Mrs. Taylor.

"I brought you flowers. Um, I'll leave them by your bedside before I leave."

Immediately all hostile thoughts left. Flowers? She had never gotten a single petal in her life. Only pussies give flowers. That was Rick's voice again. Ruthie would never tell her brothers, but she liked flowers- she liked seeing them in the movies. Some handsome hunk giving them to some lucky girl. She could see herself as that girl now...

"No! I want 'em now!"

"I don't think..."

"Edmund, please!"

"Edgar. And-"

"Whatever! I want those dang flowers- give em now or I'm callin' the nurses and getting your ass out of here!"

She was furious. Some jerk crept into her room, gave her the scare of a lifetime (or second scare- the bat boy took the first one), offered flowers out of the blue, and refused to show said flowers.

Ruthie pressed the button. It didn't work. Of course.

She groaned in rage.

"Wait!" Edgar almost yelled, "Ruthie, Ruthie, please- I'll put them on your bed. Close your eyes. Promise me you'll close them... please?"

"..."

"Please?"

He sounded so pathetic. Ruthie liked pathetic.

"Okay."

"Are they closed?"

"Yeah."

She heard him shuffling. He was walking, stepping over cords and lines and getting very very close. "Are they still closed?"

"Yeah."

"I'm putting them by your bed. No- don't open yet!"

His steps were fading again. Edgar must have kicked something because she heard him yelp in pain. Her lids were still squeezed shut.

"Can I open now?" "Yes."

He made several more shuffles before muttering something quickly. She heard the words "feel better" just before the window clicked open and shut.

"Edgar?"

Nothing.

"Edgar? You still there?"

Ruthie opened her eyes and they instantly brightened at the sight before her. A bouquet of fresh yellow daffodils lay by her pillow. With a surprising bout of energy, the girl grabbed them and sniffed- they were real. A grin split her face.

To: Ruthie Taylor, the little card read. The writing was a lot neater than Rick's.

The following night, Ruthie woke up from another bad dream. Her family had just gone home- apparently, asking them to spend the night would be too much effort- and Ronnie had kindly dropped off her schoolwork. She wasn't going to do it anyway.

Breathing heavily, Ruthie focused on the ceiling fan. The bat monster had been biting her again. She shivered.

The daffodils lay in a pot. Looks like Ruthie got a boyfriend, Ronnie teased.

"Who sent ya these, Ruthie?" Rick asked.

"Some British guy."

"My poor baby's imagining things," her mother sighed, cradling Ruthie's head, "who wouldn't wanna give my poor baby flowers?"

It wasn't imaginary. At least, she didn't think so. Had Edgar really shown up? Did he even exist? And if he was imaginary, why couldn't he have been cooler?

"Ruthie?"

The girl snapped her head toward the curtains. The familiar shoes were underneath them. You came back.

"Edgar? That you?"

"Yes... I hope you'll pardon the intrusion, Miss Taylor."

"Just call me Ruthie." The bat monster was gone from her mind. Someone was with her again.

"I brought you more flowers- I- I want you to get better."

"Ain't that sweet? Can I see you now?"

"..."

"Edgar, mama says you ain't real. Well, you're real, ain't you?"

"I am."

"Lemme see you, Edgar."

"Not tonight. Let's talk about you!" He coughed. "I mean, you're more interesting than me, Ruthie... how old are you?"

"Fourteen. Turned fourteen two months ago." She giggled. "I'm small for my age."

"..."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"That's Rick's age! You know him?"

"I've... heard of him."

"Rick's a fun guy. Say, where you staying, Edgar?"

"Around."

He was dodging her questions. But Edgar was probably a boring person. She didn't want to hear boring speeches. "You're from England, aren't you?"

"... um... Yes, yes I am."

"How exotic. Tell me about it."

"..." He cleared his throat again, as if remembering something. "The weather is cold and dreary. The United Kingdom is comprised of Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Great Britain. Britian is ruled by a monarch, who in modern times, acts as a figurehead, while Parliament is-"

"Boring."

Edgar was definitely real. Ruthie knew zip about other countries, let along all that. "So what you doing in a place like Hope Falls?"

"Oh. That. It's complicated... I'm learning about new cultures. When will you be better?"

"Not much culture here. Why you care so much, Edgar?"

"Because I-... I mean, you must have been through something terrible."

"I can't sleep without getting nightmares. You heard 'bout the bat boy?"

"I have."

"Mama's gonna skin him!"

He seemed to fall backwards. "Surely that's a bit drastic..."

"I hope she does it fast- the sooner he's dead, the better."

"I'm sorry about your nightmares," he blurted, "it's very lonesome to get a nightmare."

"Stay tonight, Edgar. Can't you keep me company a little longer?"

"I don't... oh... okay, Ruthie."

She was drifiting off to sleep. "Flowers are awfully romantic, right? Bet you do that to every girl in England."

"No," he replied, "I grew these myself. Mi- My mother says you only give flowers to special people. And I think you're very special, Ruthie, really, I do."

The sedatives must have been taking effect. She fell asleep to the droning of Edgar's voice. It was a nice voice, Ruthie realized, soft and made for singing.

She woke up to a bouquet of tulips.

Edgar came again on the third night, then the fourth, then fifth, and so on for the rest of the week. He was from London- his mother was a florist. His father owned a flat (that's what they called apartments in England, he said), he went to a private school. He had only been in America for eight weeks. He didn't have many friends.

Ruthie told him she had many friends. She liked gossip and truck rallies and the occasional cute boy. She'd lived in Hope Falls all her life. She didn't know her father. Her mother was a respected citizen of Hope Falls.

Seven pots were set up in the room and Rick was starting to get iffy.

Seven bouquets: tulips, daffodils, and sunflowers.

"You like me Edgar?"

"I do."

"I was hoping we were friends."

"Friends? I'd like that, Miss Taylor."

In the morning, the nurses helped Ruthie set up her new lilacs by the window. She left it open.

Edgar had compared her voice to the "reeds of wheat blowing under a sunny breeze." It was the most romantic thing she had ever heard anyone say to her. He still wouldn't let her see him.

"You sound real funny, Edgar, in a nice kind a way."

"Thank you."

He brought her books sometimes, a few here and there- the words were too hard for her to read. One was by a woman named "Jane Austin"- he said she'd like them.

"Bet you're smart, Edgar."

"I hope so."

"I'm dumb. But I got looks."

"You're not dumb, Ruthie. I don't think so."

Another pot of sunflowers was added to her crowded room.

The doctor said she was getting better. The bad dreams were getting better. Her mother had brought her a vase in the morning, just in case her "Englishman" showed up again.

"You've got a stalker, Ruthie! When I get my hands on him," Rick ranted.

"Edgar, you ain't stalking me, are you?" she asked at night. "Of course not," her friend replied.

"You kissed him yet?" Ronnie asked.

"You got a girlfriend?" "No."

"So many admirers for my little baby," Mrs. Taylor laughed.

"There a girl you like?" "Maybe."

Three vases were filled with Edgar's tulips.

"How come you never bring me roses?" Ruthie asked, playing with her fingers.

"Do you want them? I could bring you roses tomorrow evening."

"You give roses to people you love. Do you love me, Edgar?"

"..."

"Do you love anyone? Like my brother loves his girl?"

"Yes... I believe I do. But she wouldn't- no, I wouldn't think it."

Her pulse quickened. The monitor reflected that too. Thankfully, he couldn't see her blush. So there was someone. A jolt of disappointment and expectation hit her.

"What's her name?"

"I can't say."

"You didn't answer me. Do you love me?"

"I should go now, Ruthie. Close your eyes, please- please close your eyes and I'll give you your roses."

"You still didn't answer," she mumbled, doing as he said.

He came a little closer than that first night, after all the clunking was done. She smelled the aroma of his gift. And for a moment, she concentrated on smelling him.

"Edgar, wait."

The scent of old books, warm tea, and a dash of iron. Save for the faint smell of blood, he was everything she had imagined.

"What do I smell like to you?"

"Sterile soap, sedatives, saline."

"You're no fun- guess this is good bye?"

"Yes."

Two vases of fresh roses joined Ruthie's collection of get-well flowers. Her visitors had to zig zag their way through the room to see her bed.

She once told Edgar she was afraid the bats would come back for her, to finish what they started, what the bat boy started.

"That won't happen, Ruthie," he reassured.

"How would you know?"

"Because..." he faltered, "Because I'm here."

He brought her red roses that night. Ruthie kept one by her pillow.

Because you're here.

And that was when Ruthie Taylor realized what she felt for her mysterious friend was more than giddiness. She saw the English landscape, covered in dreary depressing rain, and someone in one of those top hats. He was a head taller than her, in a suit and dressing shoes, pale pretty face shaded by the hat. She saw him leading her into his father's flat for tea time.

She saw Edgar sitting next to her on a gondola, the two on their way to Venice. She saw him on a camel in Egypt. She saw him in a garden of roses, sleeves rolled up, a book on his head, a soft grin on his face. And she saw herself walk to him, pull the book off and put her mouth against his...

For their last meeting, Edgar brought a mixed bouquet.

"I got you tulips, roses, and a few lilacs," he said, "I do hope you like them, Ruthie-"

"Let's get married, Edgar," she said with a laugh, "when I'm out of here, let's get married, Edgar!"

"What?" He seemed taken aback. If she didn't see his feet, she would have assumed he fainted.

"We'll ride in one of those carriages you're always yappin' about. I'll go to England with you- we could go all over the world, Edgar! I want a little house in the Swiss countryside- you told me how pretty it was! And we could have four kids- two girls, two boys, and they'd be the cutest things- let's get away from here, Edgar! No more bat boys, just you and me!"

She was smiling at him- she didn't know if he could see, but she was beaming, cheeks rosy with color.

"Ruthie- I... I..."

"I love you, Edgar. I don't say that to anyone, you know? I love you."

"Ruthie, I... I'm sorry- I-"

"What? What is it? There someone else?"

Clunk.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. But I'll have to think about it, Ruthie, and so should you."

Did he have to make everything sound so boring? "You sound like my English teacher right now." She pouted. "I was serious, Edgar. I love you."

She tried to spread herself the way the girls on Rick's magazines positioned themselves but it was difficult since she was fully clothed and the IV tubes prevented any movement. Plus Edgar was behind the curtain.

"Marriage is a serious thing. That's what my mother says. It's very serious."

"Then can't we imagine, just for tonight Edgar? I've never wanted to marry no one before- sure, some guys I've wanted to kiss and I did, and it didn't end good, but you're not like 'em are you?"

"Ruthie-"

"What kind of weirdo creeps after a girl every night? Bringin' her flowers? Won't even show his face? C'mon, Edgar- tonight."

"Oh... alright."

She laughed, rolling on the narrow bed, forgetting all her troubles- homework, bat boy, her brothers' teasing. "We'll go to Egypt for our honeymoon. Then we'll get married in the alps."

"I'll arrange a carriage," he said, "it will be just like the olden days."

"We can raise our own little farm!"

"I don't know... I mean, yes, yes we can, with cows and pigs."

"And chickens! Right below them Europe mountains, those green hills, and that pretty sky. It'll be just like a picture, Edgar."

"Just like a picture."

"And you'll let me see you. And you'll see me and you'll die from how pretty I am."

"I know what you look like... Ruthie, what if I'm not handsome? Will you run?"

She could smell all his flowers come at her at once. The lilacs, sunflowers, tulips, daffodils, and roses that bunched up her room. She took a whiff of it all. She had never even considered the possibility that her Edgar was anything less than perfect.

"No," she laughed, "no, cause that won't happen."

"What if I was bald and had pointy ears? And su- and was a vampire?"

"Why are you making my dream go sour? Wear a hat, yeah, wear a hat." She brightened again, imagining the two of them on a blanket by the beach. "And bring an umbrella if you're a vampire. Just don't suck my blood- you know I can't stand bats."

He chuckled at that.

"And we'll go to the beach, and lie there, just smelling the sea," she continued.

"We'll go for strolls on Sundays, in the shade of the veranda and we'll feel the tickling of the grass blades."

"We will! We will!" Ruthie rolled on her back again, the images coming to life.

"Ruthie, I have to go now. My parents will be mad if they knew how late it was. Would you-"

"Close my eyes? Fine."

She waited until his steps were next to her. This time, he pressed the bouquet on her chest. She could hear him breathe, heavy and nervous.

"Kiss me, would you?"

"I'm sorry- I really shouldn't."

"Edgar, you leaving now?"

"Yes. Good night Ruthie."

His steps faded. She heard the window move. "Til death do us part," she teased.

"Til death do us part," he repeated, laughter in his voice. The window clicked shut.

Ruthie fiddled with the envelope. It had fallen out of the bouquet and she didn't want her family to see it. Edgar's writing was on it, as if he had written it once and written over it five more times. Weirdo.

She sniffed it. It smelled like the flowers.

To: Ruthie Taylor, the envelope read. She had the dim lamp on. Maybe he was proposing. Her stomach danced.

She opened it. If she liked what it said, she might show Ronnie and her mother. Rick wasn't the romantic type.

Clunk.

She sat up. "Edgar?"

It came from the door. Setting the letter down, Ruthie bit her bottom lip. A familiar dressing shoe entered the room.

"Edgar?" she whispered, "that you?"

"Don't worry, Ruthie," a deep voice coaxed. Thomas Parker stepped into the room, an eerily calm smile on his face, glasses glinting in the dark. "It's me, Dr. Parker."

"Dr. Parker, what you doing here?"

He was coming toward her, slow and steady, hands in his coat pockets. "Don't worry, Ruthie."

"Dr. Parker, what are you-"

"Shh, shh."

"... Stop!"

"Don't worry-"

"Dr. Parker! Help! What are you-"

"Don't worry, Ruthie."

"..."

"The bat boy will pay for what he did to you."

"..."

Clunk.

Dear Miss Ruthie Taylor,

It is incredibly rude of me to write this out to you, I know. But I lack the courage to tell you to your face. The day you were assaulted by the bat monster was the day I arrived in Hope Falls. I hope this doesn't frighten you too much.

I planned to tell you the first night, second night actually, we met. But you were so frightened. I was no better- I had snuck out of the Parkers' home that night and found my way to the hospital. It wasn't hard. The flowers are real- I did plant them myself. Mrs. Parker owns a lovely garden which you might have seen. I'm not sure- Shelley doesn't talk much about guests.

So I settled for Edgar. Just Edgar.

That is my name, but it wasn't what I had planned. I know begging for your forgiveness would not be enough. One lie turned into another and another. I'm not from England, Ruthie. My father does not own a flat. My mother is not a florist. The closest beings I have to parents are Dr. and Mrs. Parker.

Guilt drove me back to you again and again. You're fiery like your brother. You're energetic, you're creative, you're so much more than I thought you were. Somehow we formed a friendship. Besides Shelley Parker, you were my first friend.

I didn't want to lose that. And I didn't want to be skinned by your mother, though I deserve to be. I wouldn't be surprised if you tore this up and called the police on me. I deserve it.

I lied the day you asked me to smell you. You smell like sunlight and a flower's dry petals before the rain. I didn't want to sound "creepy."

Shelley is the person I told you about- I grew the roses for her. I hope you can forgive me. I didn't mean to lead you on, Ruthie. It's selfish but everything came clear the night you told me you loved me. I enjoyed your love, Ruthie- I enjoyed every second of your devotion.

That wedding- I had imagined it with someone else. But it was a wonderful picture we painted, Ruthie. I'm sorry for everything.

Humbly asking for forgiveness,
Edgar Parker- the bat boy

Parker stood before the crowd, raving about the girl's death, and accusing the bat boy with each word. Every head was divided between him and the boy. The reverend didn't know what to do.

Meredith was touching Edgar's arm, trying to say something soothing to him.

"That girl," he said.

Lilacs, sunflowers, roses.

"That girl-"

She wanted to go to Egypt with him. She wanted to start a farm with him. Naive and fickle. Daffodils and tulips.

"That girl is..."

All he could hear was Ruthie's voice telling him about the Swiss alps and asking him about England. Til death do us part. I love you, Edgar.

"... dead?"

She wanted to marry him. He was going to hire her a carriage, take her to tea-time, take her to the sea-side, and let her bask in the veranda. They were going to go on strolls on Sunday. He had promised the bat boy would never hurt her. Because he was here.

"That girl... is dead?" Edgar managed to say, eyes wide and throat tightening.

Because he was still here. And she wasn't.

That was longer than I planned. Well, I hope you enjoyed that and reviews are more than welcome!

So the pairing was mostly one-sided, but just adds to the tragedy, no? If things had just been a little different, it might have happened.