AN: This is what would be considered a dark or black comedy. There's humour there, but it's hidden among the sadness. And I hope at least a few people don't hate it.

Philadelphia

May 1912

"Jack!" Rose's voice echoed across the cavernous expanse. Jack whirled around to see her clutching the railing that outlined both sides of the second floor. Unruly curls that had escaped the diamond studded barrette perched on top of her head like a min-crown framed her face. "Rose!" he screamed joyfully, too caught up in seeing her to care if someone heard. They started running at the same time and met seconds later at the top of the stairs.

Rose threw herself into his waiting arms. "Oh, I never thought I'd see you again!" "Nothing could have kept me from you," he said, kissing her face frantically.

"Is that so?" Cal snarled. He stood at the end of a third hallway that led straight from the top of the stairs.

Philadelphia

Present Day

Liz Duncan stared in awe at the dilapidated house. A tattered sheet of paper nailed to the door read "Condemned." The windows, long since boarded up, didn't have glass in them. The front steps were all but rotted away. The lawn could have been used as a real-life example of a jungle and hired out for school field trips. Of course, that's if anyone had known who actually owned the house and if those schoolchildren—and their teachers—hadn't been terrified of walking up to it. Just looking at it from the relative safety of the street sent shivers down Liz's spine. Though it is still beautiful underneath, she thought.

"Are we gonna go in or not?" Jeremy Watkins demanded impatiently. He ran a hand through his long, dark hair. "It's not like I don't have other things to do tonight."

Robert White snorted. "What do you have to do tonight? Wash your hair again?"

Jeremy glared at him. "At least I have hair!"

"I have hair!" Robert shot back.

"You mean you had hair."

Robert scowled. "I shaved it for swimming damn it!"

"Can you two stop?" Liz snapped. "I did not come here to listen to another fight."

"He started it."

"No, you started it!"

"I don't care who started it! Both of you shut the hell up and let's go inside!" Liz yelled, starting for the house. Robert and Jeremy closed their mouths and followed, glaring at each other over her head.

Rose and Cal faced each other across a small table, a partially completed game of chess between them. Cal's chin was in his hands. He carefully studied the board. Rose tapped her nails against the glass tabletop impatiently. "Are you going to move or not?"

"Why, do you have somewhere else to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

His head snapped up. "Do not! You haven't been out of this house in over a hundred years!"

"And whose fault is that? Besides, I never said I was leaving the house."

He was visibly confused. "Then you don't have anywhere to go..."

"I have a date to stargaze with Jack later."

His face twisted. "Still here is he?"

"Where else would he be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I thought maybe he'd given up."

"Are you still upset about that?"

"What do you mean 'still'?"

"It's been over a century!"

"It could have been two centuries. I'd still care!"

"But you don't even like me anymore! Not like that anyway."

"I never said that."

"Yes you did."

"When?"

She squirmed in her seat. "You implied it."

"Implications are not statements."

"Fuck you."

"Is that an invitation?"

"We're dead, remember?"

"Doesn't stop you and Jack." he muttered bitterly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"No, seriously, I heard something," she said. "Listen."

They strained their ears. "I heard it too! Voices!" Cal cried, jumping to his feet. Rose stood up and headed toward the door. "Where're you going?" he called after her.

"To tell Jack we have company."

Liz led the way, a small flashlight in hand. "So what's the story with this place?" she asked over her shoulder. Robert shrugged. "I just know it's old and creepy."

"Yeah, but there's gotta be a reason why it's so creepy, a reason why no-one's lived here in years," Liz said.

"Well, I read that it's supposed to be haunted," Jeremy offered. Liz and Robert came to a stop and stared at him. He stared back, confused. "Are you gonna tell the story or not?" Robert demanded. "Yeah, tell us the story," Liz added.

"Okay, well, I don't know how accurate this is, but from what I read the story goes like this-" The other two leaned toward him, eager to hear the tale. "There was this guy and girl-" "Ooh, star crossed lovers!" He shot Liz a look. "You wanna tell the story?" She shook her head.

"So," he continued, "these two were 'star-crossed lovers' or whatever. Basically, they were in love, but the girl was supposed to marry someone else. She was all set to break up with the other guy, but turns out he's a bit crazy and when she tells him he throws her down the stairs." He paused. Liz shined the flashlight up the imposing set of stairs in front of them. "Those stairs?" A sudden chill fell over the trio. "Yeah, those stairs, I guess," Jeremy said.

"What happened next?" Robert asked.

"I don't know," Jeremy admitted. "Just that she died."

"Something else had to have happened! What about the two guys?" Liz asked, disappointed.

"Yeah," Robert chimed in. "I'll bet the guy she was running away with killed the other guy."

"What makes you say that?" Liz asked.

"He killed his girlfriend! Why wouldn't he?"

"But she was cheating on him," Jeremy pointed out.

"If he couldn't hold on to his girlfriend, that's his problem."

"Let's debate this later," Liz suggested. "We still have a lot of house to get through."

Jack, Rose, and Cal watched the exchange from the left side of the second floor hallway. Rose and Jack were sitting down, hands clasped, legs dangling through the railing. Cal stood, arms crossed in front of his chest, pretending not to notice how close together they sat. "I like that girl," Rose said. "She's clearheaded."

"I like the guy with the long hair," Jack said.

Cal snorted. "You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing. It's just that neither of you know what decent hair looks like."

"And you do, Mr. I Go Through Eight Jars of Pomade a Day?"

"I don't anymore!"

"Would if you could."

"Would both of shut up? I'm getting a headache," Rose said wearily. Jack put an arm around her. "I'm sorry, honey," he said kissing her hair. She smiled. "It's okay."

Cal rolled his eyes. "Well, while the two of you were doing that, those kids wandered off."

"Cal, do you have to be so negative all the time?" Rose asked, climbing to her feet. Jack stood up too. "Yeah, do you have to be so negative?" His tone was serious, but his eyes mocked Cal over Rose's head. Cal fought the urge to knock him over the railing. That didn't go so well the first time I did it. "I'm not being negative," he said. "Just pointing out some facts."

"Let's go find them then," Rose said. She began heading toward the stairs, pulling Jack by the hand. Cal followed, glaring at the back of his head.

Somehow the trio of intrepid teenagers got separated. Liz ended up by herself in what she could only assume had once been a parlor or sitting room, while Robert and Jeremy ended up at the bottom of a back stairway.

"Shall we go up?" Jeremy suggested. Robert shrugged. "Might as well." Their weight on the rotting boards sent a chorus of creaks echoing through the house. They exchanged anxious glances. "Think it'll hold?" Jeremy asked. "We're too far up to get back down now," Robert said. "Let's just keep going."

Cal and Rose watched the boys ascend to the second floor, amused smiles on their faces. "What are they so scared of?" Rose asked.

"Us. What are any of them ever scared of? Us."

"Why be scared of us? Even in the inaccurate version of the story they told we're not scary people. Well, some of us aren't."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that two of us sounded sympathetic, and one of us didn't."

"And what is so sympathetic about you two? What about me? The cuckold?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "I don't think that word applies if you're not married. And you have to learn to see the situation from someone else's perspective. We're the young lovers whose chance at happiness was cut short by a jealous rage—your jealous rage."

He looked hurt. "I apologized for that years ago."

"To me. Right before you tried to convince me Jack had crossed over and his last words were for us to sleep together."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Meanwhile Jack was watching Liz wander around the sitting room. He wasn't sure how he had ended up being the one who went off by himself, but he didn't like it. That bastard always does this.

Liz must have sensed a change in the room's energy because she looked right at him, or she would have had he been visible. "Hello?" she called hesitantly.

She seems to know you're here anyway. Jack took a step forward and focused on becoming visible to the living. "Hello," he said pleasantly.

Liz jumped back. "Where did you come from?"

"The other part of the house."

"Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question. Besides, I was here first." Oh that was mature. You've been spending too much time with him.

"Oh." Well, that's reasonable enough. Liz's better judgment had been suspended temporarily due to Jack's overwhelming prettiness. Even if he does dress a bit oddly. She gasped. "You're one of them!"

"One of who?"

"The ghosts!" she said excitedly.

"And how do you know that? Who said I wasn't just some strange man?"

"Are you?"

"I used to be."

"Until you died?"

He rocked on his heels. "You could say that I guess."

"Hey, which one are you?"

"Huh?"

"Are you the lover or the crazy jilted guy?"

Isn't it obvious? "Which do you think I am?"

She blushed. He really is pretty. "The lover."

Jack snapped his fingers. "Got it."

"So, what really happened back then?" Liz asked eagerly.

"You already know what happened."

"I know part of it. What happened after your girlfriend died?"

Jack winced. Even after all that time and countless encounters with curious thrill seekers, hearing it actually said out loud upset him. "You mean what happened after he killed her?"

"Um...yeah...if you don't mind talking about it..."

"Well..."

May 1912

"Rose!" Jack tried desperately to grab her—any part of her—but he didn't move fast enough. She cast him one last terrified glance. He watched helplessly as her body fell backwards and tumbled down the stairs. She landed at the bottom, her neck bent at an unnatural angle. He later said he watched the rest of the scene from the ceiling, that he looked down at himself and watched as someone else steered his body.

He lunged at Cal, knocking him to the ground. They rolled on the floor, each trying desperately to bash the other's head in. Jack somehow managed to get back on his feet. He pulled Cal up by his shirt collar. "You killed her!" he howled. He bent Cal over the railing. "Do you see that? You killed her, you bastard!"

Oh God. I did. Cal twisted out of Jack's grasp. He grabbed him by the throat and held him in the position he had just escaped. "At least you can't have her now!" Jack let out a scream unlike anything either of them had ever heard. His body was bent over the railing. Just a few more inches and he would be over, and then he felt himself starting to fall over. He twisted his fingers in Cal's shirt and held on as tightly as he could.

Present Day

"So all three of you died?" Liz was stunned. "That's just so sad."

"Sad for two of us," Jack muttered.

"But you're together," Liz pointed out. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's true. I guess there's not a lot anyone can do to tear us apart now. Though, a life together and then an afterlife would have been nice."

"Where is she?"

"Rose? Oh, they're both spying on your friends."

"She's with him?"

Jack looked uncomfortable. "It's been over a hundred years. If they want to spend time together I'm okay with it. It's not like there's a lot of people for us to talk to here. And besides, she's withme."

"Oh, I wasn't implying anything," Liz said quickly. "Do you know where my friends are, by chance?" she added.

"No idea. But I can find her easily enough."

"How?"

Jack smiled. "Telepathic link."

…

"So, do you really think the other guy killed the girl's boyfriend?"

Robert stared at Jeremy. "What?"

"You know, that's what you said."

"I didn't expect you to still thinking about it. Why the hell are you still thinking about it?"

"No reason. Just trying to keep my mind off the epic creepiness of this house is all."

"Oh." And a moment later. "I think he did, yeah."

Cal snorted loudly. The two boys whirled around, expecting to see someone. But there was no-one there.

"Be quiet," Rose hissed. "Let them see you if you want to talk."

"I like it better this way."

"Well, I don't. And you owe me."

As they argued they slowly became visible. Robert and Jeremy watched in stunned silence. "Owe you for what?"

"Did you forget about killing me?" Rose demanded.

"It was his fault!" Cal shot back.

"And you killed him too."

"He took me with him! What more do you want?"

They had completely forgotten about the now terrified teenage boys in the room with them. Finally Jeremy spoke. "Are you two…um…you know?"

"Are we what?" Rose asked.

"Um…ghosts?"

"What else would we be?" Cal asked. "You think I'd be here with these two if I didn't have to be?"

"Like we want to be here!" Rose said exasperatedly.

"Um, excuse me," Robert said politely.

They turned to him. "What?"

"Which two are you?" he asked. "Though I guess it's kind of obvious which one she is."

Cal glared at him. "It isn't obvious which one I am?"

"Well, it kind of is now," Robert replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"You're the jilted guy, aren't you?" Jeremy said.

"We can tell by your pleasant nature," Robert added.

"If I weren't dead—"

"Cal, shut up," Rose ordered. "Your inability to control your anger is the reason why we're all dead."

"So, did your lover kill him?" Robert asked Rose.

"You could say that," she answered.

"I killed him back," Cal grumbled.

"Still going on about that?"

"I'll never stop."

Rose looked behind her. "Jack's coming."

"How do you know?" Jeremy asked.

"Telepathic link," she explained. "He's bringing your friend."

A few hours later, after they'd explained the situation to the satisfaction of the slightly overly curious teenagers, they had resumed their former posts. Jack and Rose sat on the floor, legs dangling through the railing, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her. Cal stood awkwardly behind them. They watched as the teenagers hurried from the house.

"They weren't so bad," Rose said as the door closed behind them.

"Yeah," Jack agreed.

"I didn't like them," Cal grumbled.

"Just because they thought you were unpleasant," Rose said.

"They only thought so because you had to go and start talking about how I killed you."

"You did kill me," she said. Jack pulled her closer. "Could we not say that anymore? Just for the rest of the night at least?" he suggested. She kissed him softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replied. "I just don't like thinking about it."

"Well, we're together now. It isn't perfect, but it's better than nothing," she said. He kissed her and said, "I'd rather spend eternity with that moron over there breathing down our necks than have lived my whole life without you."

"That moron can hear you," Rose pointed.

Jack shrugged. "I know."

Cal's tone dripped with sarcasm. "How mature."

"Hey, I only made it to twenty," Jack shot back. "What's your excuse?"

"Stop. Headache," Rose said.

"Sorry," they said in unison.

Rose stood up, pulling Jack to his feet. "Didn't you promise me some stargazing?"

"I think I did."

As they walked away happily, Cal glared at the back of Jack's head. "I guess it could be worse," he grumbled to himself.