Soldier Boys Come Marching Home, a monster high fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Monster High or any associated characters.

This was accidentally written in response to a random Deuce post by Sikfox of tumblr.

I blame them. SO MUCH.

This is not exactly edited, but instead, written in a blur of 'I should really be doing something else, so if I just... write it out quickly...'

~*Soldier Boys Come Marching Home*

~)0(~

Honestly, the others were starting to get a little concerned.

Deuce had been practically pinging off the walls all day long, uncharacteristic of the usually laid back dude-boo who made up half of Monster High's IT-couple.

Some didn't have any context, and were starting to suspect that maybe Cleo had had an amulet of excitement misfire at her boofriend or something, which had put the ancient Egyptian princess into a royal funk because really... she'd only had an amul-accident once or twice...

[Or... well, more like five times in the entirety of her schooling. Why did everyone keep bringing that up?]

Still, she was one of only a few that actually had any idea what was really going on, and managed to endure the sceptical glances being thrown her way all day long as she clung close to Deuce. Despite what people often thought, she actually did have a heart (it might be in a canopic jar at her Fear-a-mid, but she HAD one nonetheless), and emotions...

Maybe she came off gruff sometimes, but when you had Nefera for a sibling... it made sense. You had to scare-vive all those years entombed at Scairo somehow...

Today, though, she knew Deuce needed her.
The way she'd need him if their stitchuations were reversed. Contrary to how she'd treated the blue-haired ghoul at the beginning of their friendship, if anything happened to Ghoulia... it would absolutely devastate the De Nile... so she got it, she understood, and all of their combined gods damn anyone who tried to ruin this for her Gorgon.

Frankie had been throwing saddened looks across the creepateria all of lunch, from where she sat pressed against Neighthan, surrounded by most of her ghoulfriends and the hybrids. Cleo had chosen to eat lunch with Deuce and his bloodies this lunchtime, because they all seemed to be a little peppier than the other ghouls were...

It might have something to do with the fact that a certain stitched-together ghoul was not being allowed in to see certain people just yet... given the complex scare-nario she, herself, had weaved not more than a handful of months ago after 'the big reveal'. Parents could be intimidating sometimes, but no one had anything on Drs Jekyll & Hyde, both women well over seven feet and impressively terrifying no matter which one was present at the time.

And they had made it quite clear that Frankie was not a person they felt needed to be involved right now, but she could visit later, when things were more settled again.

Of corpse, the other ghouls had all taken this as a wide-spread de-vitation that meant none of them could go and see their classmate(s) just yet. A solidarity thing.

This did not, the Mumster had painstakingly inferred, mean that she would not allow their bloodies to visit, highlighting that this included Ghoulia and Operetta, and yes, Cleo too... as the royal ghoul had actually been quite considerate since Halloween.

Though, Cleo did still feel a solid weight of guilt within her abdomen that was practically screaming out that even now, even this... this was her doing, her fault. If she had not meddled...

Deuce had patted her hand in a distracted fashion, before going back to his preoccupation of trying to get infearmation out of Heath -like all the other boos and ghouls at the table were. Being their cousin, he'd seen the two recently...

The elemental was loathe to give out too much infearmation, of corpse, for two main reasons -primarily because his aunts might extinguish him if he blabbed the entire stitchuation, their family was rather private after all... and secondly, he knew Spectra was always fanging around trying to get something for her gossip ghoul column.

So far, all the majority of students knew was that they'd been missing two students for a week and no one outside their immediate group of friends seemed to know WHY... nor were those 'in the know' inclined to share.

It was unusual, actually. How something like that had gone so unnoticed... unremarked or reported on for such a long time... but the media was normie-run, and they didn't tend to like people knowing the truth about the extent of racial tensions between monsters and normies in New Salem.

Only now, months later, were the details of Halloween being leaked 'covertly' to the news and people were up in arms about it. Too little, too late... but it had started a movement, at least... which was good in a potential-integration-and-harmonious-future-implications kind of way, but had also led to this scare-nario.

Heath also had the unfortunate trauma of being there when it had all gone down, which had made him twitchy, freaked and so down in the last little while that he'd not had a single flare-up incident since.

The other boos at the table had varying degrees of guilt on their faces as they prodded the rather-spritely-for-once fire elemental for news on their dual-natured bloodies; most of them had expressed on various occasions, if only to themselves, that they wished they'd have been there. Maybe they could have done something...

But Maybes got you nowhere in this unlife.

It had happened, and three mansters had paid the price. Most of the evidence had faded from Heath already, fire elementals were fairly rapid healers... which is why they expected Holt & Jackson to be back at school soon, what with their tri-brid DNA at work.

Of corpse, this was optimistic, as Heath had been fairly much winged by the main assault... but left him looking so bad, it had even shaken the yeti warrioress when Abbey had gone to see her boofriend, concerned after the first two days of his not turning up at school.

"Yeah, they're not great... but it's not like they were as attractive as me to start with so it won't be a big loss to the ladies... er, and mansters of the universe." Heath grinned, spoonful of Clawd's not-so-secretly-pilfered boosenberry pudding hovering near his mouth and shaking slightly.

Nerve damage took a little longer to heal, even for elementals... and that shoulder had been pretty dislocated. The others pretended not to notice.

Given how cheerful Heath was, it really seemed like things were getting back to normal and they'd all be sitting here shortly. Probably. Well, that was a tad optimistic, even after the Jekyll-Hyde-brid boos got better, they still had to find a way to convince their mumsters to let them come back to school or generally do anything that involved being out of her/their sight... and not wrapped in several protective layers of bubblewrap.

[When their cousin had told the others that, his expression stayed serious as the others laughed... leaving them all to question if this might actually be a thing she/they would do.]

"Oh no, how will we ever cope if those two are now less attractive than Heath?" Operetta deadpanned at the fire elemental, which nearly sent pudding shooting out his nose as he snorted in response.

[He certainly was a dignified creature, after all.]

"Pretty sure I was just insulted, but I'm gonna let it go because today is looking up!" he responded, throwing subtlety out the window and just taking the pudding off of an amused Clawd's tray. "Like, I was so worried they'd never wake up again... but then they did, and this morning they've been okayed for close friends to go see them so it's not just me awkwardly hugging them and cryi-... er, you heard nothing."

"Awww, that's just sweet, that is..." Operetta responded, genuinely moved, but still pretending to wipe a tear from under her mask with a smirk.

"I heard it took two gargoyle nurses to pry you off of the pair the first time you were allowed to see them..." Ghoulia added in helpfully, eyes sparkling, knowing full well it was accurate as she'd 'heard' about it by hacking the hospital security cameras.

"Sh-shut up... are all ghouls evil, or just the ones who adore me?" Heath sighed, wildly gesticulating with the hand that held a full spoonful of pudding. The others kept an eye on that hand, lest it's cargo end up soaring in their direction...

"Nah man, there's no need to be ashamed of being happy your cousins are okay... when our older brother took a hard tackle in gravesball a few years back, the entire litter tried to pile on his hospital bed to comfort him. Nearly made it work, but the nurses grabbed us by the scruff and dragged us out... said he needed peace and quiet or something... I don't think they understand how werewolf households usually work." Clawd added thoughtfully.

"Hey," Gil lept in, changing the subject slightly, "did anyone else get a call from them this morning?"

"Actually, yeah... I got Holt telling me they're ready to party rock again... as long as we do it in slow-motion." grinned the werewolf.

"Holt." Operetta added succinctly.

"I got Holt too, for most of it, but then Jackson came back on towards the end... they said they'd been switching over more randomly... but they're sharing better, because he continued the confursation without missing a beat." the river-monster elaborated, tone intrigued.

"Ghoulia, Cleo and I got Jackson... it was like a minute or so but he just said they were okay and worrying was wasting energy that we could use to go see them later this evening." Deuce grinned.

"Dude, not fair, the rest of us have to wait until tomorrow afternoon..." Clawd whined, ears down. Gil patted him on the back in consolation as Operetta laughed.

"Oh boos, can't go crowdin' those two all at once, can we? Besides, best-bloodies get the first-dibs, anyways... y'all know that." she winked at Deuce and Ghoulia.

The zombie genius was trying not to show how pleased she secretly was by it all. It wasn't commonly known that she hung around with Jackson and Holt; well, not Holt at least... people just assumed that the two nerdy students liked to fang around one another.

"Yeah, they said they did that when I saw them this morning... Holt was excited people were worried about them, and Jacks was more embarrassed at the idea... but I kinda think he was secretly thrilled. They're still shifting randomly as their body works out what goes where, 'cause you'd think healing rapidly is straight-forwards... but it isn't, and especially not when you're some sort of three-way hybrid teenager thingy." Heath interjected.

"Gonna be clawesome to see them, though. Even if they are a little messed up still..." Deuce smiled, lunch abandoned. His expression darkened, "But this should never have happened."

Cleo, despite knowing he in no way intended to aim that at her, still felt the statement pierce her like a scythe.

The whole thing had still, in an abstract way, been her fault... and Lillith's, let's face it. Halloween just would not die for good, and had come back to haunt them all in a chilling way...

~)0(~

The Sheriff had not taken the loss of his post, due to unconscionable conduct, lightly... and many on that hilltop that night so very ready to sacrifice a teenager for GRAFFITI they didn't even do -and how ludicrous was it, when you thought about it?- had decided to help him take 'justice' into their own hands.

Anti-monster folk don't even need a reason to do what they did, but rallying behind the banner that this was a form of retribution for the loss of a good job was what helped them sleep at night. It was Revenge, actually, if they were honest with themselves.

But they weren't, and probably never would be.

It wasn't hard to see where it went from there.

A bunch of angry, armed normies in vehicles against two (three, technically) teenage boos... what was going to come of that but something terrible?
They'd tracked Jackson and Holt down one night the week previous, made sure all the remaining police were occupied elsewhere with false calls and the like, and put into action their dastardly plot.

Heath and Holt were walking home from a DJ gig, the equipment left overnight so there was no set-up necessary for tomorrow's gig at the same club... when out of the dark night came a roaring of engines. Not unusual along an old, dusty street; cars came through sporadically as they walked back to the street their respective homes were on... but this time, both of them had KNOWN something wasn't right.

Sure enough, they'd only just blinked between seeing a car race up towards them, and somehow ended up surrounded. A multitude of angry, red normie faces shouted at them, people descending from all sides... they tried to escape to no avail, tried talking them down...

But then they saw that Sheriff, (who they almost couldn't credit with this whole scare-nario given he came off as a moron, and yet this showed a high level of sophisticated planning) standing back behind the small mob, a sadistic grin written from ear to ear. That was when the pair had known this was not something that they could talk their way out of, because there was no reasoning with these people...

Sure, the party ruse had worked before, but only because they'd caught everyone off-guard and thus diminished their hatred that way.

This time, there wasn't a way to leave except by running the gauntlet.
Heath couldn't actually tell them much more after that initial assault, because they'd been separated by a clamour of flailing, striking limbs and objects forcing them to the ground...

When he'd told them, in an unusually quiet voice, he said that for a while he'd heard Holt shouting and fighting back like the elemental was... and then someone had slammed his head into the bitumen too hard, knocking him out. And when he'd finally come to again... Jackson was there, spitting wheezy insults and trying to fight back still; headphones smashed irrevocably behind him.

Neither Holt nor Jackson had, as yet, elaborated on the blank part of their cousin's memory... or even how long he'd been out. Just that things had gotten pretty bad for a while there... no one even phased when they swapped over, and they were (for all intents and purposes) kicking the tar out of a slight, nerdy teenager of the visually-normie persuasion.

The humans had only left when the pair had been lying on the ground in crumpled messes of manster; bleeding, bruised and barely conscious, but not broken. Lillith had found them, having been alerted to what she thought had been still something, 'going to happen', by her sources and attempting to find Holt or Jackson to warn them... the Van Hellscream immediately calling for aid and administering whatever help she could.

~)0(~

Right now, Cleo felt keenly the weight she knew Lillith was also carrying.

But the human ghoul (what did they call them, girls?) had cried down the phone to her (minutes after the ambulance had arrived) what had happened; blatantly refusing to be taken along as well to be treated for shock until Cleo had arrived on-scream and bundled the other into her limoscream, telling paranormal-medics she'd see them at the hospital.

After having Lillith checked out, Cleo had taken her home and waited anxiously for news of the other boos with Deuce -whose mother had called from the hospital, having been on Emergency that night; by the most remarkable of coincidences. Unfortunately, long hours and patient confidentiality made it quite hard for the Gorgon boo to not only get ahold of Medusa, but also limited the ability to get any detailed infearmation out of the womanster.

As if he knew her thoughts, in that strange way he always did, Deuce took her hand loosely to offer comfort. He didn't blame her. If not Holt and Jackson, then someone else... New Salem was a churning ocean of hidden loathing and contempt for the monsters that dwelled there, and sooner or later something was going to surface.

"If it's any consolation," she said in a soft voice that immediately drew his concerned gaze upon her, "my Mummy... hmmm, my Daddy has hired the best attorneys that exist in this world... and spoken with several deities from the Underworld who oversee justice. Should this case be dismissed... well... they will not go free for their crime, and will wish they had been entombed in a penitentiary or some other minor punishment..."

"...I don't think they'll have anything on Mama H or Mama J though," Heath said, shuddering. "They won't have enough for DNA analysis if they get their hands on the perpetrators..."

Perpetrators who had not realised there was a CCTV camera pointing their way during the attack, and Ghoulia had used her skills to create advanced facial recognition software programs. All of them, forty three men and women, some as young as thirteen... all violent offenders with irrefutable proof of their crimes; proof that Ghoulia had made multiple copies of, so as not to have the evidence 'lost' by case managers sympathetic to the anti-monster cause.

They could never hide, not while Ghoulia and technology existed.

"Be that as it may, sugar pea, I still kinda wanna go do some butt-whoopin' of my own." growled Operetta, a fist striking the palm of her opposing hand. "Holt can be a bit obnoxious at times, but he ain't never deserved anything like that. And anyone who can look at Jackson's adorable little baby face and still wanna hurt him... ain't the kind of creature who deserves to keep on existing."

Heath managed a half-hearted snort at the word 'babyface' in conjunction with his cousin... who was actually a devious little mad scientist-slash-evil genius-to-be, behind that adorable adult-fooling exterior.

That particular sentiment was met by a table's worth of agreement in the forms of nods, scowls, growls and Ghoulia making a particularly descriptive (and violent) suggestion in zombie that had people at nearby tables inching further away from the suddenly-menacing ghoul genius out of fear.

"Dare you to tell them that this afternoon," Heath grinned brightly, winking at her.

The bell signalling lunch's end pierced the air like a banshee discovering a faceful of zits on Prom Day.

"Oh, hey... meet you there tonight? I'm going right after school, so we'll all be squished in the room sometime before five probably." he added, scooping up his tray and sliding out of the bench seating.

"Tonight it is!" Deuce agreed, cheerful again at the prospect of seeing his bloodies mostly-whole, after days of little infearmation and gut-wrenching worry.

Cleo held on tightly to her boofriend's arm and tried to brush aside all the remaining tendrils of guilt infesting her insides... Jackson and Holt were still unalive, and she could ask their forgiveness for the stitchuation... right after she gave them an Amulet of Wellbeing her father had personally crafted for the pair.

Not that she could not have made it herself... but on the slight chance it might backfire or something worse, Cleo had bade her more skillful Mummy make the item with gems she had hand-plucked from one of her favourite diadems.

The personal touch was what made amulets all the more powerful, as he'd always said to her and Nefera...

She looked back to Ghoulia as they all got up to leave the Creepateria, (studiously avoided looking to Frankie or the others), and saw the crestfallen expression of her closest ghoulfriend's face. In a uniquely dexterous display of her fearleading prowess, Cleo managed to maintain a grasp on Deuce while executing a sort of swing-pull-engage manoeuvre that led to her arm being interlinked with Ghoulia's at the end of it.

"Come along, two more classes and we can go and see them... cheer up," she said to Ghoulia, then turned to Deuce with a mock-stern expression, "And you! Cheer DOWN!"

After a split-second of surprised silence as the words processed, the table dissolved into laughter...

Today was a good day.

Class had passed almost in a blur for the usually studious Ghoulia, and now she found herself alongside Cleo in the back of the De Nile's limoscream, on the way to grab Deuce. How the Anubian driver was going to park this in the notoriously-limited spaces of the hospital, was anyone's guess...

Anxiety gnawed at her insides... hah, stereotypical zombie joke. She smiled and glanced out the window at the moving scenery to avoid having to explain the expression...

Cleo was distracted.

Ghoulia understood that this was both relief and guilt at play; it was only recently that Cleo had stopped being so cold to Jackson, and less authoritarian towards Holt. Halloween was a big part of that, she had felt it was time to make it up to the pair as best she could without apologising directly -De Niles never do, darling.

So this newfound affection for them, (coupled with the attack born of her attempt to gain more fame that was Halloween's disaster) was really hitting the mummy princess hard... but on the other hand, it had brought out something in her too. Evidenced by the amulet in her hand, familiar gems sparkling in the sunlight...

During Clawculus, last of their classes and less interesting on this day to the distracted ghoul than it had ever been before, the iCoffins of everyone who had been seated at their small table had offered something to quell their boredom.

Jackson and Holt had sent them a video-message, and a handful of photos; having been concerned that maybe their current appearance(s) might just scare a few centuries off certain unlifespans, if they were not expecting it.

'Hey, it's us, we're pretty much okay at this point...' Holt had started, beaming in the strange silence he was surrounded with before shifting into Jackson.
'...and we didn't want to freak you out with how banged-up we look, going on Heath's example...'

And Holt returned with, '...which was hilarious, you should have heard it, but it also kinda woke several baby banshees in the next ward over and we nearly ended up with ruptured eardrums over that. So we thought we'd make thi-...'

'...-s video to say that we miss you guys, we're excited that you're coming to see us in the next few days because it's boring trapped in this little white box,' Jackson grinned and morphed back to Holt.

'See you soon!' the Dj winked, making a finger-gun at the camera and beaming.

Jackson reappeared without warning, also beaming, 'See you soon!', he waved... and the screen went blank.

That was actually a pretty good idea... because she could see from where she had positioned herself to covertly watch the video, that the others who had received it were in various states of shock over their appearance.

The boos did look a bit battered, worse than anything that'd ever come off the Skulltimate Rollermaze track, but not so bad as roadkill... though Heath had said they were looking a lot better than previously (what with their enhanced fire elemental healing factor), so that left a lot of questions about how bad they had been.

It was for the best that everyone reacted now and came to terms with the appearance, rather than risk doing it infront of their friends when they visited... and making the boos self-conscious. Which was the last thing they wanted to do to them...

In the present, the zombie ghoul found herself bouncing her right knee up and down without realising it, which had drawn Cleo's attention...

"Are you alright, Ghoulia?" the ancient yal had asked, reaching out a hand to place it on her leg and still it.

"...I believe so, Cleo. Just... nervous-cited to see Jackson and Holt." She responded, after a moment's reflection on how to put it. This was a big thing for her... knowing some of their friends were monst-mortal was something you had to accept; but this was different. Any of them, immortal, mortal, something in-between or not even on the spectrum... could still be hurt, be destroyed, be injured.

That was the hard part.

You could prepare to lose someone in the inevitable 'someday' of it all... but to hear how close you came to losing someone you had not expected to lose so soon... that was terrifying. She almost couldn't quantify it, just a vague sense of dread and horror that bubbled up inside...

The stereotype might be that all teenagers think themselves immortal, invincible but... it did feel that way, whether or not it was true of an individual's monster-type or not... so this had actually shaken her pretty deeply.

And Cleo knew it.

The oft-times haughty ghoul was actually fairly good at reading those around her sometimes, and just this once... Ghoulia wished she wasn't, yet was grateful for it all the same.

"It's okay to not be okay about this, Ghou... I feel that way too." Came the surprisingly soft tone, basked in that compassionate, reassuring tone that all great leaders had.

Without another word, the ghoul slid across the seat and wrapped her arms around the zombie genius, "It's going to be okay..."

Ghoulia had not even realised she'd needed that until that very instant.

Outside the tinted windows, leaves gusted past on stiff breezes as the limoscream turned onto Deuce's street; the large grecian-style villa immediately capturing the attention of all those who looked it's way.

Discordantly, Ghoulia's iCoffin began to buzz with Ghoul-Out Boo's "Light Em Up, Up, Up", the personalised ringtone she had for Heath. (Which he thought was a hoot, actually...)

They were not late, not yet, actually ten minutes ahead of schedule... but he'd threatened to bug them every five minutes after he arrived. They already had a handful of photos and selfies of the three of them, laughing, smiling, being utter dorks, from the last fifteen minutes alone.

[Apparently Heath's concept of five minutes approximated every ten seconds, or whenever he felt bored enough... car trips with the elemental were a nightmare, because he was totally the one who asked if they were there yet the entire trip, from start to finish.]

The ghoul's shoulders jerked slightly as she withheld a snort, and swiped ignore new message... only for it to light up again seconds later as a call. Ugh, if this was another knock, knock joke, she was turning a fire extinguisher on him, herself...

Cleo snagged the phone first, pressing it to her ear, "Heath, I swear we're nearly there... but if you tell one more knock-knock joke..."

The rest of the threat faded into a stock-still silence as Heath spoke rapidly at the Egyptian from the other end of the line...

...and when he quietened, Cleo's tone took on a business-like quality.

"I see, we'll be right there, we're getting Deuce now."

And the second she hung up, Ghoulia launched herself towards the other, holding her tightly as they pulled into the Gorgon family's driveway... unbeating heart sinking as her embrace elicited no reaction.

. - . - . - . - .

Deuce hummed to himself as he tied the laces on his shoes almost on instinct.

Behind him on the bed somewhere his iCoffin hummed repetitively, but he ignored it for now... he'd heard the De Nile vehicle pull into the driveway a minute ago, and Cleo could wait another thirty seconds so he could finish fastening his footwear.

He loved her, but sometimes she was pretty impatient...

Then again, it might also be Ghoulia typing away text after text, because the zombie genius was just as excited as he was to see the pair. [And, despite what they say about zombies, he'd seen that ghoul write and type at speeds that would make most werecheetahs have an existential crisis...]

Probably Heath, though. He'd been sending things non-stop for the last fifteen minutes... which was clawesome, and a little annoying, really. Each time he got a message, Ellie Ghoulding's "Burn, Burn, Burn" would start over again, get part-way through the intro, and begin again with the new message.

Screw it, he might throttle the fire elemental when he got there. The gorgon teen huffed out a laugh at the mental image... which somehow morphed into Heath dashing through the hospital hallways trying to avoid Deuce, ironically in hot pursuit, with a fire extinguisher at the ready.

Okay, that was a little cruel even for him... Heath had a real phobia of those things.

Footsteps on the stairs said his mother was wondering if he knew that Cleo's limoscream was in their driveway, so he yelled back preemptively, "I saw it! Just getting my extr-..."

And his next sentence fell flat as the door burst open to reveal a slightly dishevelled Cleo standing there, an iCoffin clutched tightly in one hand and Ghoulia clinging to her back, supported by the other hand. Her usually immaculate hair was mussed (probably from running up the stairs), and there were-... oh no.

"Cl-Cleo...?" he almost didn't want to ask, that would make it real.

"Deuce we-... we're so sorry... Heath just called us and h-... he said..." Cleo choked, more tears displacing her mascara as they slid down her face.

Ghoulia carefully disembarked De Nile Airlines and squeezed her friend's hand, "It was really quick, they just... a complication, while they were resting up for our visit they began to seize. Heath said they didn't even know... they were asleep when the rib punctured their lungs... d-didn't think that was possible..."

The zombie's bottom lip trembled, and Deuce finally fought his way through the shock to get up and go to the two ghouls, drawing them close as they all tried to process the cold irony of the world.

His snakes began making distressed noises, picking up on his emotions, and he couldn't really tell if he was crying or not because nothing felt... real.

Except Cleo and Ghoulia, but even then, they were distant.

Someone was crying. Maybe they all were...

And in that devastating silence the only thought in their minds was a singular chant of, "They're gone... How can they be gone...it's not fair. They're gone... How can they be gone...it's not fair. They're gone... How can they be gone...it's not fair... Why? Why? Why?"

It could have been a few moments they stood there... it could have been eternity... or only a handful of seconds; but eventually, the insistent buzzing of their iCoffins drew them back to reality.

"W-we should go... Heath's all alone at the hospital, their mothers are on the way but... they'll be a while." sniffs the Egyptian royal, disengaging, but not completely. Holding on to someone, anyone. An anchor.

No... these feelings were both new and old, they hurt so much... this wasn't fair. If only she'd gotten the amulet to them sooner! If only... If, If, IF.

The thoughts swirled, and yet were useless.

Those normies who did this were going to learn the hard way why those in this room were called monsters... if she had to hunt them down herself (probably with Lillith, and her crossbow).

"...okay." Ghoulia agreed in a quiet moan, expression despondent,already mechanically moving to the door. "I'll text the others so they can..."

...say Goodbye.

It lingered in the air between the trio, that phrase. So final. So hard to say all of a sudden.

How casually had they said goodbye to countless people in their day-to-night unlives? It was always a promise to see them again, but this time... there was no possibility of it. Their monster-type was not the return-from-the-dead kind...

The photos and silly selfies on their iCoffins just became a lot more precious to the Gorgon, that video of the two he just knew he'd watch until it degraded... and then he'd have Ghoulia fix it up and put it on a new format.

Every word of their confursation on the phone earlier went through his head... did they know he thought of them as his bloodies? Did his tone sound interested enough? Had they thought they were bothering him? Why hadn't he risked running late to talk longer to them?

So many whys, he almost wanted to-...

They all startled as a loud pair of long, wailing shrieks erupted from several streets over... a mourning cry...

Ah, the Banshees of the Screams household must have just gotten the supernatural message of a lost monster, or maybe monsters... he had always wondered how that worked but it seemed too personal to ask how a banshee personally sensed another monster's death.

Trapped in these thoughts, Deuce let Cleo lead them out of the house and into the limoscream. Ghoulia slid in beside him, tucking into his side like a child half her size and miserably texting through a film of tears, their other bloodies in the know...

Vaguely he wondered if they should tell Frankie... but Cleo touched his hand and shook her head, as if sensing the thought. "Later." was all she said.

The limoscream gently pulled away and moved off towards the hospital, the once-joyous trip now replaced with a sombre, painful journey to wish friends a final farewell...

. - . - . - . - .

Moments after arriving, Deuce, Cleo and Ghoulia found themselves rushing to the room whose number they'd been given by Holt and Jackson earlier that day, during their teleconfursations.

At the doorway, they paused... taking in the empty bed, and the lone fire elemental teen standing, pale and shaking, in the middle of the room. Items were strewn everywhere, like some great battle had been fought...

"H-hey. Th-they took them away, to d-do some...thing, was-wasn't liste...ning, talked too m-much at m-me. W-we can s-see them in a b-bi-bit, g-g-guys and gh...ouls," Heath stuttered out, like words were a foreign concept to him at this point. His hands and bottom lip trembled, but he looked dazed, confused, like he wasn't quite sure what to do next.

Deuce stepped into the room, breaking that barrier that had held the trio outside and away from the almost alien environment that was the empty hospital room they had expected to greet their recovering friends in at this time.

Ghoulia is furiously tapping something out on her iCoffin as it convulses with the influx of incoming texts from those they told... and some of those they did not, who must have been within the radius of those who just received the devastating news.

Heath just looked so little right now. So traumatised and afraid.

He'd already said his parents and aunts were coming, together hopefully so that no one crashed and added to this tragedy... but he was alone for all that time between when 'it' had happened, and this very instant.

It was hard to see him like this, really. Things usually washed over the elemental, but right now... right now...

Cleo moved slowly towards Heath, as if gauging his reactions to anything outside his internal world of grief and shock, and slowly... oh so slowly... she put her arms around him.

...and like that, he broke.

Fire elementals rarely ever cry, really, they don't have a lot of water running around their internals, and it's usually conserved for serving as a sort of biteological internal cooling system. But now, right now... Heath was sobbing on her shoulder...

Ghoulia abandoned the ever-buzzing iCoffin on the bed and moved towards the two, wanting comfort as well; and Deuce, the usually laid-back, stoic manster that he was, wholeheartedly wrapped around them all in an effort to feel connected and real in the wake of this terrible loss and confusion.

This wasn't fair.

No one said it was.

But at the same time... it wasn't fair.

Holt and Jackson never did anything wrong... and they paid the price.

It-... it just wasn't fair.

By the time the hospital staff came to let them know they could go and see them, say goodbye, as it were... the adults had arrived. Somehow knowing what to say to each manster and ghoul to bring them out of that dark, painful place of sadness... and into the harsh light of reality.

The four monster teens dried their tears, took in deep breaths that for some were more for courage than necessity, and went to have the visit they'd promised their friends that very morning... before Fate decided to step in and ruin everything.

. - . - . - . - .

Deuce read a stirring eulogy to the amassed members of Monster High; many of whom had never previously attended a funeral and were both saddened and baffled by the experience.

The casketball team, along with Lagoona and Gil carried the coffin to the mausoleum they would be entombed in. It had been a closed casket.

As, like back at the hospital when they did not lift the sheets while saying their farewells, they did not want confirmation on who they were burying; it was easier to imagine that this was a goodbye for both Jackson and Holt.

That the body in the casket was just an object, and both the boos were here in metaphorical spirit (though many held out hope they might reform one day as ghosts, the process often taking a few years)... it helped some, and disquieted others.

Ghoulia touched her hand to the casket and thought of the times the boos had stayed at her house, joking that her coffin-bed was 'just the right fit', and wishing she could think of literally any other memory of them right now. And by some miracle, or intervention of one of Deuce or Cleo's merciful Gods, she suddenly recalled the fun that all three of them had had the day she accidentally created the Zombie Shake... which left her laughing through her tears.

Many disbanded after they were placed down to rest upon the stone altar inside the mausoleum... all but a few, the closest of their friends in various states of grief. Some trying to be strong for the others, yet more just letting their loss out through tears or quiet sobs...

Everyone was different.

Yet they all, as one, took turns to go and say something quietly in that mausoleum, when it was just them alone with Holt & Jackson. A few whispered words to quiet the internal anguish of losing someone they were not supposed to, not yet...

And then, they each somberly watched as the last of them took her turn, the daughter of ancient egyptian royalty stepping forth to say her farewells...

...approaching the soon-to-close mausoleum, and entering inside despite her intense clawstrophobia; a small, glimmering something clenched tightly in her shaking hands.

. - . - . - . - .

And the moment Cleo laid the intricately crafted amulet on top of their casket, and strode away as the great marble door swung heavily shut behind her, it truly was...

The End

As for the Sheriff and his accomplices?

...despite the best efforts of several joint task forces, they never did find enough of them to bury... and even less evidence as to who did it.

[For those who it utterly devastated, you're welcome!

Alternate end for the faint of Feels: they use the time machine (from Freaky Fusion) to go back and give them/H&J the amulet, which saves them instantly, and everyone skips off into the sunset happy as with no consequences to the time-space continuum.

Alternate Ending Two: They come back as ghosts and scare the tar out of everyone… but mention they really liked the eulogy Deuce gave.]

Let me know how you felt about it...