So here I am delaying my original fic's chapter for a two-shot. Enjoy anyway, and please review. I know it's a bit obscure, so it would be easier to comprehend things if you read 'Evanescent' first. This is only a what-if to Evanescent. What would happen if Glitch never returned to normal? The timeline to this story is approximately fifteen to eighteen months after the car crash.

He woke to see the sunlight streaming through the windows. The light didn't blind him, and he didn't feel stiff at all. He felt like he'd been awake throughout the entire night. Living it all once more. The pain, emptiness, the dark cave with no way out.

To define his current situation with a cave would be simple. He had gone in on his own accord, forgetting to drop stones or leave things behind to find his way back out. He followed the thin tendrils of light down the dark corridor-like opening. The stalagmites and stalactites above and below were mere obstacles to him. Some of them were small and frail, but others were fiercely jagged and rough. A small river trickled down the cave floor, and bats screeched overhead, but he didn't pay attention to the noise and pushed on, eager to explore. A twinge in his heart told him not to go, but he still moved on.

Seconds became minutes. Minutes became hours. Hours became days, and as the hourglass was turned around and the sand seeped through the small opening, time went on. He was trapped. He did not know how he was trapped; he had been engrossed in his seeking to realize how fast the clock ticked. He tried to retrace his faint steps. He tried to dig deeper, fly higher, but the only company he had now were the bats. He tolerated them for his own sake, trying to maintain his sanity, but their continuous shrieking made it hard for him to stay self-possessed. He felt as if he were dancing on the edge of madness.

Then one day, when he was so close to finding his way out, he had found the passage sealed. And, somehow, he knew who had been responsible. The ones he had once trusted. The ones that were once his friends.

Snatches of the memory flashed through his mind. Glitch, which was what he called himself, let a lucid, non-substantive tear run down his bone-pale cheek.

He was once a dancer. A great, great dancer, with skill, talent, enthusiasm, and the will to learn it all. But ever since the crash, his life took a turn for the worse. A thorn pierced his tender heart. He used to be strong, but now he was only a silhouette of his former self. The agony of being trapped in his current state was just too much to bear. He had untied the strings of fate, only to watch them lash into indecipherable knots.

Once, he had been grateful, even though he did not know who it was to thank. To be granted the power he was given, it was easy for him. But when he was caged alone in this eternal world, he knew that all the glory he could have been lavished would not be the same, if only few would ever hear his throbbing heartbeat.

The grievous event of his funeral had been held on his birthday: November 26th. After months of wishful thoughts and anticipating, he had finally been regarded as dead. However, his soul was still lingering nearby, crying for the wings of fate to carry him away. While he was placed in a new dimension of immortality, his funeral passed on easy for everyone else. After such anguish, one by one, his friends learnt of the way to let him go after they found out that their ceaseless distress wouldn't be of help. Even his brother.

He was remembered as many, but the one name that held a place in his fragile soul was of him as the easygoing, humorous one who had always been the pain in the neck that no one could live without. If he was there, they would wish him gone, but without him, all was different. Now, DCI became different.

The funeral was held in complete silence. No one cried, no one sobbed. The only sound that had been audible was the steady drumming of the gentle rain. Nobody spoke, until one by one, his friends paid him their last respects, words that were uttered from their lips, soft as silk. Along with their diamond tears, his soul was held aloft.

The soothing droplets of rain were like silverdust, and they caressed his spine, running down his solid back, cold as ice, but he welcomed the numbing touch. His green eyes were darker than emerald, the orbs shining with an ominous, deathly glow. Once his brother came to where he would have rested in peace, he felt as if he couldn't bear to stay another moment longer. Still, he couldn't leave. His brother spoke with a rough voice, low and steady. Everyone else drew a few steps back respectively, and after the last words were uttered, the world spun and became a blur to the ghostly soul.

Drowning in the sea of heartburn, he was tossed and turned about until he felt as battered as a roe after days of beating. And yet he was still trapped in the dark cave, and the calls of the bats were like the cries of the ones that had left him. Why did they leave him? They thought it was for the best. But it all felt so unfair. If his entire life was balanced on the tip of an iceberg, it would weigh it all down into an avalanche heading for the seas. He walked alone now, in this world of immortal pain.

Now, he welcomed the cold that wrapped him up. Reliving the same day again and again. He never showed himself to anyone for months. He padded alone on his invisible path. The days he spent without company seemed as if they were becoming shorter and shorter. Less happened, giving him more time to reflect on his past. He wished he had savored his life better. To him, living was a gold coin snatched away in a heartbeat. Emptiness swept over him. He resided in a small room that used to be his. A space for him when he needed time to rest. Before the crash, this was his room. The windows that let scarce light in were dusty. The door to the room was blocked. Ever since his funeral, his brother had forbidden anyone in, and sealed the room up.

Quietly, he unfurled himself from his uncomfortable position. He maintained his solidity and smeared a bit of dust from the windows. Something he did every day, counting the number of days since the funeral. Lines crisscrossed the glass in groups of four vertical lines and one horizontal line. Then he lost substance and flew to the streets like he always did.

Almost a year had passed ever since the crash. Every day, he visited the place where he found himself a ghost. He did not know how or why, but every time he set foot outside his empty room, he would blink and find himself standing there. The sky above was bright blue, but in his eyes, it was darker than the shadows that swallowed him whole. The intersection he was standing by was empty except for a little girl. She was crossing the street. Without warning, a car sped down the road. The ghost perked up immediately and scooped the girl up on gentle arms, placing her on safe ground microseconds before the car hit the ghost, sending him sprawling. The girl barely noticed a thing.

The ghost felt pain shoot up from his back, but the throbbing gave way into the familiar, hollow feeling that had accompanied him ever since the funeral. But then even that feeling was swept away by a new feeling that had not touched him for months. It took him a moment to recognize it.

Hope.

He could still help people. He still held a place in the world. No one knew of him, and yet he still had a use, a reason to live. He was made a ghost for a reason, wasn't he? If that was so, he would not sink into misery a night longer. He had to show himself. And if he wanted such, there was only one who was capable of that. Leader of DCI, former superior to Glitch, and the dancer that Glitch had never showed himself to for six months. Rasa.

The DCI leader had last seen the ghost at the DCI Headquarters. The former prodigy had been heartstruck and outraged when, slowly, everyone let him go as a memory and no more. Even Mo. Even though the ghost's mentor had left Glitch for the past, Mo made the wise decision not to take another dance protégé. He had predicted that, even if he had taken a new dance partner, it would only be a replacement to Glitch. It wouldn't be fair for anyone. Glitch was hurt by the fact that he was no longer remembered. That was when the cave deepened and darkened, when all that was left was deathly silence, without even the bats.

Glitch disappeared from Rasa's life that quickly. Since then, he had never been to the underground HQ. The only two places he roamed ever since were his room and the streets where he was hit. He did see Mo once in a while, but he preferred to go through the roof instead, which was a better entrance to the world of shadows.

The memory was shoved to the back of his mind as Glitch tried to recall his last conversation with Rasa.

"They don't remember me anymore. I'm useless."

"Glitch –"

"No! Whatever you say, whatever you do, they won't believe you. Glitch died after the crash. Glitch died when they, those heartless things, finally let him go. He's dead!"

"Glitch –"

"Glitch's fuses are burnt. He's gone."

"Listen to me!"

"I can't. Not like this. I'm just a ghost. I'm useless. Helpless. Even Mo dropped me! Why can't you just let me go?"

"Because you'll have nothing to live for anymore. I can help, I'll find a way. I promise."

"It's too late for that."

Glitch dissolved into little more than a blurred picture sent from the past.

Guilt nagged at the ghost. He shouldn't have left like that. But now he had a chance to fix everything, if it all wasn't too late. He still had time, but he'd better get to work soon. Urgency grasped him, and he recalled the HQ's location. Somehow, after five months of locking himself up, he still remembered exactly where it was. What he didn't remember, however, were the faces that he left behind. There were only blurred masks that stuck close to his mind. The cave had scarred his vision, making it hard for him to see in daylight. He would go blind if he were led out immediately.

Finally summing up all his half-buried memories, he took a deep breath and took flight. He usually flew like a raincloud, slow and heavy, but now the effortless prospect of coming back to glory made him rocket to the skies. Taking to the extreme had become normal to him, but even after over a year as a ghost, he would never get over the fact that flight itself was an art. An art of passion, dares and exhilaration. With that, he pinpointed his landing area, which was still far away.

Above the world he soared, circling the clouds and hearing his heart sing for the wishes he fed it. He felt the vibration of joy in each ascension, and with each steep drop his heart swelled. Prideful laughter rang in his ears, and the memories filled his mind after being tied up in darkness. The feeling of openness, freedom. Those were the only words that could describe this fantasy. And now, he felt no fear of losing this.

He loathed the fact that he had to descend soon, but it was essential. Turning every fibre in himself insubstantial, he plunged through the earth's surface like a kingfisher diving underwater. Finding himself in the corridors of the Headquarters, he realized that almost nothing had been changed throughout the five months. Through the familiar surroundings he went, a smile spreading on his face. Tendrils of emotion lashed around him, locking him in place, but he welcomed them and looked around in search for the DCI leader.

But then another feeling latched itself onto him, one that he remembered. Fear that even Rasa had left him for the past.

Was that possible?

If you don't understand the timeline, it goes from around three to six months after Glitch's car crash. After those months, came the funeral. This story takes place five months after that funeral.

Review if you want to see more! I might not post the second half of this story for weeks, so don't be surprised :P tell me what you think should happen!