Author's Note: I wrote this little one-shot at the request of Fanfiction dot Net user Park Ryder, who asked me to write a one-shot for her. She wanted to see the scene in between Emily and Victor's kiss on the bridge and the moment when he wakes up in the Land of the Dead. I liked the idea a lot, and this is what I came up with. Also, I do not own these characters and nobody paid me to write this.

I Do

As the ravens cleared in a flurry of caws and feathers, Emily was breaking her very first kiss with her brand-new husband. Tenderly she pulled away and opened her eyes. She was so excited to get a good look at him. All during their little chase through the forest she'd mostly seen his back. How terrible she felt for startling him! Though Emily didn't know what he'd been expecting, marrying her so out of the blue that way. Hadn't he thought she'd be dreadfully excited?

Oh, well. Past was past. She'd caught up to him finally, on the bridge. Such a romantic spot, especially in the moonlight. How Emily had missed romance. Perhaps kissing him first had been a bit forward. Emily had simply been so overcome she'd been unable to help herself. Besides, they were married. A kiss sealed their pact.

Much to her disappointment, her groom was not looking tenderly back at her. The young man was limp in her arms, his eyes closed. "Oh dear," said Emily. Had it been too much, too soon? She gazed at him, cradled there in her arms, sunk halfway to the ground. Her husband was handsome. Pale and dark-haired and slender, so unlike the type of gentleman she usually liked. One just never knew where love might appear—it was so often in the most unlikely of places.

With no effort at all she hoisted her beloved up over her shoulders as if he was a lamb she was carrying away for shearing. For a moment Emily stood, thinking. Wherever should they go? They'd landed in the sprawling lively cemetery of Downstairs, near her twisted oak tree. Which, now that she was happily married, Emily really never wanted to see again. That tree was the very symbol of her past unhappiness. Now that she was happy, she need never think about it again. Pointedly she turned away from it and gazed at the crooked and green-lit buildings of the village of the dead. She smiled.

Emily settled upon a plan. Eager as she was to show off her handsome young husband, it was probably best that she let him have a little time to recover. She'd married a shy and inexperienced man indeed, if a kiss made him faint! Emily gazed affectionately at her husband's face, slung as it was upon her right shoulder. How very dear he was when he was unconscious. She'd let him rest in one of the many coffins strewn about in the alleyways of the city of the dead. It wasn't quite so crowded and noisy in there as it was out here among the stones and crypts. Perhaps she could take him to that nice casket she knew of, the expensive one which hadn't lost its lining and still had a lovely pillow. Emily wasn't sure whose it had originally been, but she was quite sure the owner wouldn't mind sharing. The dead weren't too possessive with their things.

With care Emily carried him through the boisterous graveyard. Off in the distance she could hear the military corpses going through their paces. Hands, some without bodies attached, waved at her from open coffins here and there. Hands full, all Emily could do was smile and nod.

After she and her husband had a little chance to get better acquainted, she'd take him along to the Ball and Socket to meet everyone. Along with her excitement about her marriage she was rather happy to have a reason to go there. It was such fun. Emily never meant to be unfriendly or aloof, but she didn't spend nearly as much time socializing as everyone else here did. Her visits were few and far between. She'd had a vigil to keep under that oak tree. Even though she'd long since given up hope that her fiance was coming back for her, dead or alive. Oh, how she'd cried when she'd let herself fully appreciate that it was never going to happen. Emily's heart had broken all over again. Yet there was still a little glimmer of possibility, even through the heartbreak. Painful as it was to think of, perhaps her fiance had not been her true love. It was her true love who would find her. Fate would bring him. Because that was how true love worked.

And now here she was! Her true love had found her. This young man was destined for her. It was plain to see.

Emily hummed a little tune to herself as she strolled into the village. She felt so happy she thought she might burst. With every step her husband bounced a little, nearly in time with her song. Emily couldn't help sneaking little peeks at him. Such lovely dark hair he had. She liked the way it fell over his face. And she already loved his voice. He'd said his vows so beautifully. With so much passion and affection and promise! When he regained consciousness she might have to ask him to repeat them, just so she could hear it all again. Emily shrugged her shoulders to balance him a bit better, and secured her hold on the back of his knees. Every now and again she'd pass a skeleton or two and nod a friendly hello. Most of them stopped to stare, but none held her back or asked her any questions. Emily kept walking, bouyant.

When she arrived in the alley with the red door, Emily was pleased to find it unoccupied. Though her husband's weight was nothing on her shoulders she could tell when he started to stir. He made a little groaning noise. Poor dear. In her haste to get him seated comfortably in the casket she rather misjudged the width of the space. And her young man's height. As they passed the pile of discarded odds and ends which nearly filled one side of the alley there was a clatter and a moan as his head connected squarely with an old birdcage which was hanging from a coffin nail.

"Oops, sorry, darling!" she trilled, feeling a little awkward and embarrassed. The birdcage swung wildly. Her husband moaned, but did not open his eyes.

With tender care, taking special notice about where her beloved's head was in relation to any hanging objects, Emily eased her husband into the coffin. She propped him into a sitting position, holding his head so that it didn't loll about. Emily put her face close and watched as her husband's eyelids began to flutter. Oh, what should she say first? Should she follow his lead?

Emily moved back just a little as her husband brought a sluggish, unsure hand to his head. With apparent difficulty he opened his eyes and managed to focus on her.

"Darling!" Emily cried, smiling and putting a hand to his face. Her husband gasped, his eyes went impossibly wide, and then he passed out again, slumped against the coffin lid.

"Darling?" Emily asked, worried now. Gently she patted at his cheeks. When that didn't work she snapped her bony fingers in front of his nose, then tried waving her hand before his face. Nothing. "Darling, all of this fainting can't be normal. I hope you aren't sick. That would be dreadful, so soon after the wedding."

Emily took a seat beside her freshly unconscious groom. He seemed dead to the world. He'd fit in just fine here. Affectionately Emily ruffled his hair with her skeletal hand. What little light there was caught on her wedding band. Emily smiled as she admired it. Her wedding band. Happy tears filled her eyes, and she wiped at them with the edge of her veil. Emily was married. To her true love. Even if he wasn't awake, he was at least there. Dream of dreams. Emily was now a wife. She was Missus...Missus...

"What is your name?" Emily finally thought to ask. Predictably her husband did not reply. Emily sighed, trying to decide if it would be rude or dangerous to shake him awake. Before she could decide, though, she heard little dog barks from the head of the alley.

"Hello, Scraps!" she cried, delighted as always to see the little dog. Emily had few companions down here. There was the sweet spider who hung about the alleyways, and the sweet-in-his-own-way maggot who had moved into her head some time ago. The arrangement worked quite well. Maggot got to eat, and it was nice for her to have company in there every once in a while. Emily didn't like being alone in her thoughts. Scraps the little dog, though, he was lovely.

When she'd first met him he'd been skin and bones without much fur. Now he was just bones with a collar on. Still charming and lively, though. He mostly spent his time in the pet sematary on the fringes of the Land of the Dead, but he'd come to see her under her tree frequently. He also liked to play with those lovely skeleton children whenever they were willing. That trio was a fun one to watch, particularly when they played hide and seek with other peoples' bones among the mausoleums.

Emily patted her knee and the skeletal little dog bounded down the alley toward her. Once close, though, he stopped stock-still. His bony little tail stood straight up. His fleshless nose seemed to test the air, a memory of taking a scent. Then, he let out a mingled yip-whine that made Emily jump. Quick as a flash Scraps had jumped onto her husband's lap, tail beating furiously and nosing all over the young man's collar.

"What was that, Scraps?" Emily asked, confused. Scraps yipped, and poked her husband in the chest with his forepaw. Emily understood.

"This is Victor?" she asked. She scratched Scraps' skull, and took a good long look at her groom. "This is Victor," she repeated.

Oh, the stories this dog had told about his master! Victor Van Dort was all Scraps could ever talk about. The little dog had loved him so, and, judging by his stories, with good reason. Now Emily was completely certain that she and this young man were meant to be. She'd often thought, whenever Scraps would bark his tales at her, that this Victor fellow sounded sweet and kind and wonderful. She'd told Scraps so more than once. And to think, he'd been Upstairs all this time, and now they were married! Why, the three of them could be a little family.

"He's all right," Emily assured Scraps, who was tilting his head in a worried sort of way. Again she ran a hand through Victor's hair, more gently this time. He'd managed to remain unconscious through all of this. He must have had a real turn. Scraps hadn't mentioned how delicate Victor was. "I think he's just a little overwhelmed."

Suddenly, Emily was struck with a wonderful idea. She even clapped her hands in delight, which made Scraps look up at her. Oh, it would be the perfect wedding present! Emily stood, sure that Victor would be safe enough where he was, and went to rummage through the pile of cast-offs on the side of the alley. Soon enough she found precisely what she wanted.

"Aha!" she giggled, hoisting her prize. It was a small box with a lid, probably not unlike the one Scraps had been buried in. This one had also recently held a pet, a kittycat most likely, judging by the tattered and moldy cloth mouse which was still inside. Emily plucked out the mouse and set it aside. She knelt before the coffin and explained her plan to Scraps—he would be her wedding gift to Victor. A reunion with a departed loved one was the best present she was able to give her new husband. Scraps, once he understood, was eager to play along. He'd been thrilled to see Victor. How much happier he'd be to see him awake!

"He'll be so happy to see you!" she said, helping Scraps into the box. It was a trifle small for him, but he was a clever little dog. One of his best tricks was one that she called "Going to Pieces," where he let himself collapse into loose bones. Once Scraps was standing in the box, she said, "Go to pieces, Scraps!"

With a happy bark, Scraps let himself fall apart. As loose bones he fit quite nicely into the box. Emily fitted the lid on top of the box. It looked a bit plain, so she plucked an old forgotten bonnet from the refuse pile and removed the ribbon. This she wrapped in a pretty little bow around the box. She held the box in her lap and admired her handiwork.

"All right in there, Scraps?" she asked. The box gave a little wiggle. Emily took this for a yes.

A quick glance at Victor confirmed that he was still out. Or quite good at pretending to be. His tongue was protruding ever so slightly from his mouth. His breathing was deep and even. Hm. This could take ages. Emily decided that it would be best if she went ahead and took him to the Ball and Socket now. Most likely the noise and fun would wake him. Or Monsieur Paul would have some sort of bubbly concoction to coax him back to consciousness. Emily nodded to herself. Yes. That would be best.

Carefully Emily poked four little leg-holes in the bottom of Scraps' box with her skeletal fingers. A muffled questioning whine came from within. "Listen, Scraps, I'm taking Victor into town. I'll wake him up at the Ball and Socket, and then I'll take him to the overlook. You know the one, with those stairs you and the children like to race on."

The box wiggled again, and so Emily continued, "I'll take him up there, and we'll have a nice talk. And then I'll surprise him with you! It will be perfect!"

A bark from inside the box let her know that Scraps approved of this plan. Emily set the box on the ground. It took Scraps a minute and much rattling and grunting to put his legs back together. Eventually, though, his skeletal legs appeared one by one through the holes, and he managed to stand up. Emily couldn't contain a giggle at the sight of a walking gift box. It was rather adorable.

"We'll see you there!" said Emily, patting the box. It wiggled, took a moment to orient its legs, and then set off up the alley. It was even cuter when it was walking, in Emily's opinion. She turned back to Victor, whose eyelids were fluttering again. For a long moment she gazed at him, unable to believe her luck. She was Mrs. Van Dort, with a lovely husband and a dog, and friends she was about to go see at the pub. Emily had thought she'd lost those things forever.

"But then my true love came along," Emily whispered. At the sound of her voice Victor stirred a little. As he was more awake now then before, Emily didn't put him on her shoulders this time. Instead she pulled him to his feet and slung his arm over her shoulders so that she could walk and support him at the same time. This way she could nearly pretend they were just walking together, if she ignored how his feet dragged and the way his head slumped into her neck. Actually, it was sort of nice. Intimate.

Smiling, Emily set off for the Ball and Socket, her slack but adorable husband in tow.

The End