(Turns out I do write tragedy on rare occasions. I don't want to spoil the story, but this is a tragedy. Some very sad things will happen. Nothing graphic or gory. You have been warned. This is a two-shot.)

(Tragic/ supernatural) No pairings. Loss. Just family and friendships.)

You Can't Go Home

Mattie's seventh birthday party was ruined when Alfred — planning to ambush his younger brother with a water gun — tripped on a loose floorboard and fell flat on his stomach.

At first there was the soft laughter of Matthew and his friends at Alfred's foolish prank gone wrong. But when Alfred did not get up, it died off and they started to ask in concern, "Al? Are you okay?"

The nine year old Jones opened his mouth and closed it, body curling in on itself. He could only gasp. Tears slid down his cheek as he convulsed with a pain that no child should ever experience.

"What the bloody hell are you boys up to?" their father, Arthur, called. His footsteps thumped on the oak as he stormed into the hallway. "Have you been rough— Al? Al? What's wrong?"

A soft hand touched his shoulder and arms pulled him up. His father held Alfred, rocking him, brushing his hair back.

"Frog! Call an ambulance! Call one now!" Arthur screamed.

The party was over.

In the ambulance Alfred went in and out of consciousness, but he did remember vomiting every time he was aware. And when he had nothing left to puke, he dry heaved into a plastic bag.

The medic kept checking his vitals and helping him sit up to throw up. Nearby he heard Arthur asking in a desperate voice, "Is it a stomach virus? Maybe he ate something bad?"

On and on he repeated that litany, begging for answers, pleading for them to say it was nothing serious.

Alfred was wheeled in a stretcher to the emergency room where they drew his blood and hooked him up to an IV drip. The doctor and nurses checked his pulse and spoke back and forth.

After X-rays and more tests, Alfred was being wheeled to the doctor's office. Francis was beside him now with a crying Matthew. Francis hugged Arthur who kept repeating, "It has to be a stomach bug! Children get those."

"Has he eaten your cooking?" Francis asked in alarm.

"Belt up, frog!" Arthur snapped.

It was nice that some things never change.

The last thing Alfred remembered was being given a really strong painkiller.

Alfred woke, feeling better, in a hospital room with a window showing the city skyline on his left. The blinds were drawn up and it was overcast outside. Rain drops splattered on the glass and ran down, growing bigger as they absorbed other droplets into large globules.

The pain was gone. But needles were in his arms that connected him to IVs and a machine that went beep every couple seconds. He turned his head left and saw Arthur sitting in a fold-out chair beside him, face hidden by the newspaper he read.

"Daddy?" Alfred asked, sitting up.

The newspaper was folded up and put on a nearby table. His father had changed. His green eyes had deep shadows underneath and were red and swollen.

"Al," he said tightly. He swallowed hard. "How're you feeling?"

"I feel fine," Alfred said, glancing around. "Where's Mattie?"

Arthur took Alfred's hand and gently squeezed. His hand was warmer than Alfred's which was strange since the opposite was usually true. He wouldn't look Alfred in the eye as he spoke. He kept swallowing and sounding choked up. "Francis is watching him."

Alfred's mouth dropped open in disbelief. Daddy was leaving Francis to babysit Matthew. He never trusted the "frog" as he called him. "But…" Alfred was shocked. Then he remembered the party. "What about Mattie's cake? I never got to eat any!"

"We can always get another."

"But Mattie's party. He didn't even open presents."

"He opened his presents," Arthur said.

"I never saw! Did he like the bear?" Arthur had shopped for a present with Alfred. Alfred had picked out the white one from the Kumajiro series. He knew Matthew wanted that one.

"He loved it. The Frog says he won't sleep without it."

"I knew he would! I toldya!" Alfred said, grinning. "He's gonna be so jealous when he sees my party. I can't wait for Saturday!"

Alfred had been looking forward to his birthday for months. Matthew and his birthdays were separated by four days.

For some reason his words made Arthur look away and tighten his grip on Alfred's hand. "Al," he said. "I called Superhero Land Pizza and… cancelled the party."

"What!" Alfred cried. "Why? Why would you do that? Gil and me were gonna have an awesome laser-tag battle! I was gonna beat all the video games in the arcade!"Alfred's eyes began to water and his throat tightened. "I want my birthday party!"

"I know, Al. But you have to stay here."

"Until Sunday?"

"Longer," Arthur said, wiping at his eyes like something was stuck in them. "I've called your friends and we're gonna have the party here."

"Here? No, that's lame! I want pizza and hamburgers! I want my awesome birthday!" Alfred said, breath hitching. His vision blurred. "I wanna go home."

"I know, Al."

Alfred rubbed the tears away. "Can I go home?"

"No, you can't go home."

"Why not?"

"You can't."

"Why?"

"Because you can't!" Arthur snapped. Tone said the argument was over.

"You're mean," Alfred said, turning away from Arthur. He crossed his arms and glared out the window.

Matthew got a party! Arthur was being unfair.

They decorated his room with streamers, tied shiny balloons to the railings of his hospital bed, brought in a spare table for the cake and presents, and crowded the window sill with stuffed animals, flowers and "Get Well" soon cards.

All his friends and their parents came.

They all laughed and joked with him. They played card games. For some reason the adults kept looking at Alfred with grim eyes, as if they felt sorry for him.

He didn't like it. No one would tell him why he had to stay.

But he was getting scared.

The morning of his party he woke and found a patch of his soft, blond hair on the pillow. His doctor, a severe man named Ludwig, said it was normal. Arthur said it was normal. Said it was just the medicine.

But since when was hair falling out normal?

And Alfred had begun to feel sleepy and tired a lot.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but grin when his friends and Matthew surrounded him. He wasn't allowed to eat the cake per the doctor's orders.

It didn't seem fair.

However, after he begged enough, Arthur let Alfred have one tiny bite. Of all the desserts he ever ate that rich creamy chocolate icing tasted best.

The best part was Arthur and Matthew's present: a big stuffed whale that Alfred named Free Willy

After everyone went home, Alfred cuddled Free Willy by his bed side and fell asleep with his cheek pressing into its fur.

All he wanted was to go home.

One night Alfred woke to find his cowlick — the rebellious strands that had defied Arthur's brush at every turn — had fallen out. Not wanting Arthur or the nurse to take that away, Alfred hid it in his whale's red bandana — what had been around a different stuffed animal.

That was his cowlick and no one would take it away. It had been a defining trait for Alfred and he wouldn't part with it.

He became too weak to sit up easily anymore. The doctor and Arthur said it was the treatments. They wouldn't say what he was being treated for, only that it was for the best.

Those treatments made him throw up too.

When Alfred was bald, the nurses offered him a wig. He chose to wear his cowboy hat — a souveigner from a family trip to Texas — and wore that all the time. His main nurse, an italian guy named Feliciano, thought it was adorable.

Alfred hadn't decided if he was going to be a cowboy when he grew up or a superhero. It was a tough decision. Arthur never took Alfred's super important choice seriously. He had just said, "That's nice, poppet."

Mattie had pointed out Al could do both. He could be a cowboy with the secret identity as a superhero which Alfred found brilliant. Now he need to work out how to be a world famous baseball player and astronaut into that.

He'd save the world one day. He knew it in his bones.

Alfred couldn't wait to go home. He didn't want to spend Christmas in here.

The first signs of autumn appeared on the trees outside. Their leaves started to turn yellow and gold. Arthur started to come in wearing scarves and a brown plaid coat. Signs of the cooling weather that Alfred could only witness through his window.

Alfred felt sad that he wouldn't get to rake the leaves this year with Matthew. The best part was gathering them into a pile and jumping on that. One time they even pulled Arthur into the pile; it had been a great day all three of them laughing and tossing leaves at the other.

It had been especially funny when a maple got stuck to Matthew's forehead and Alfred had joked, "Hey Canada!" because it reminded Alfred of the flag.

But not this year.

This year Alfred couldn't go home.

A couple hours ago Francis and Matthew had been here, and Francis joked about Arthur casting "one of his spells to fix things" and Arthur exploded at the frog like Alfred had never seen before.

His dad had been red-faced and screaming when the male nurse, Feliciano, popped his head in and told them to quiet down. Then Arthur noticed Alfred's shocked look and that Matthew was softly bawling. He look mortified and excused himself, Francis following after him.

Matthew stayed with Alfred who comforted his brother.

Not even Alfred's best grins and thumbs-up seemed to help Arthur's worsening moods. Alfred learned from Matthew that he had been staying with Francis for a while and Arthur slept in a hotel near the hospital.

It made Alfred sad to hear since he could see Matthew was missing them.

"When will you come home?" Matthew asked, sniffling.

"I don't know," Alfred said. "As soon as I can."

The first snow of the year fell outside. Some of the flakes stuck to the window, slowly melting.

Alfred stared outside more than played his new mario game on his gameboy.

In the background came the steady clack-clack-clack of Arthur's typing. His father had thinned. He was always tired and stressed. The slightest thing could set him off.

Daddy brought his work here now. Arthur always worked; he loved it. He often scolded Alfred for distracting him from his work. Now his work was here.

Arthur had brought the worst part of home into Alfred's room, and Alfred resented that.

Turning his gaze to his dad, who sat primly on the fold-out chair, using the rolling table they fed Alfred on as a desk, he kept glancing back at the rough draft of his manuscript. Since Arthur was old school he liked to type his written works with a typewriter, but he couldn't see anyway to lug that antique in here.

Clack.

Clack.

Alfred had enough.

"You can go home," Alfred said.

"Hmm? I'm sorry?" Arthur said, looking over. He blinked in confusion massaging his straight-bridged nose under his thick brown eyebrows. "What did you say, poppet?"

"I said you can go home."

Arthur shut the lap top, then scooted the chair to the bedside. "Is something the matter?"

"Do you have to work here?" Alfred said.

"Well, I wanted us to spend time together," Arthur said.

"We're not. You're just here," Alfred said. Arthur put a comforting hand on his shoulder and the gentle look evaporated some of his anger. "Can I go home?"

Arthur sighed in exasperation, letting go of Alfred. "Al, we've been over this. I don't want to argue this anymore."

"What about what I want? I wanna go home!" He said fiddling the with the sleeve of his powder-blue hospital gown. "I want my hair back." Tears stung his eyes. "I don't wanna spend Christmas here!"

"I know, Al." Arthur squeezed his upper arm. "Bear it a little longer."

"Why am I here? What's wrong with me?"

"Be patient," Arthur said, using the same strained smile he had when their pet hamster, Mr. Liberty, died. He had been doing that a lot the past few days. It

taken Alfred time to recognize that expression.

"Am I Mrs. Liberty?" Alfred asked.

Arthur chuckled. "No, you're not a hamster."

"Then why do you look at me like I'm going to heaven?"

Arthur went rigid; his lips pressed together until they whitened. The nostrils of his small nose flared as he breathed heavily. His hand gripping the railing, clenched until his knuckled turned white.

Suddenly, Arthur shot to his feet and ran for the door.

"I-I'll get tea," he said.

"Daddy!" Alfred cried, but his father was gone.

The tears flowed down and he grabbed Free Willy and hugged him tightly. He wouldn't abandon Alfred. He protected Alfred from ghosts and monsters-under-the-bed.

More and more Alfred had started to wonder about Heaven. When grandma died, everyone told him that's where she went and she would be waiting there with Mrs. Liberty. It sounded like a nice place. A place to visit.

As Alfred's eyelids drooped, he fell into a strange dream. A dream where he floated over his own body. This dream had started to happen a lot lately.

When he woke, the sky had cleared and late afternoon sunlight had turned his room golden. He rolled over and saw his father was back and hunched over his laptop with two paper cups beside him.

Arthur had one for the tea and the other to put the tea bag in. He often grumbled about having to drink instant tea at the hospital.

Alfred could smell the tea in the air, something lemony.

"Daddy, I had a strange dream," Alfred said. "I was floating over my body."

"Hmm-mm," Arthur said, glancing over. The sheer exhaustion showed in his eyes.

"Daddy, you should go sleep at the hospital."

"I'm fine," Arthur said with a yawn.

"No, you need a nap," Alfred insisted. "You can go home. I'm a big boy. I'll be fine."

"Oh, Al," Arthur said, cupping Alfred's cheek. "Please never change." His fingers moved as if to brush at Alfred's non-existent hair and then fell away. Alfred's cowboy hat rested on the window sill.

"Please go home. Mattie needs you," Alfred said.

With a hard swallow, Arthur nodded and picked up his laptop. "I'll be back tomorrow morning. Bright and early." He leaned down and kissed Alfred's forehead. "You be good. Don't make too much mischief. The nurses are already unhappy with your pranks."

Alfred grinned and gave a thumbs-up. "When have I ever caused problems?"

Arthur crooked an eyebrow, but he couldn't conceal his smile. He fiddled at the end of his white, button-down shirt. "See you tomorrow."

"See you!"

When Arthur was gone, Alfred laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling and soon drifted off.

Alfred could see himself. Well, his body sleeping below on the hospital bed. It was night and the lights in his room and the hallway were dimmed. Concentrating, he floated down and landed beside himself.

Weird, he thought, staring at his hands.

He noticed an almost forgotten-feeling on his head and when he touched it he grinned ear-to-ear to feel his hair back. His cowlick too! Staring down he saw he wasn't in that hospital robe, but a white cotton shirt and jeans, his favorite pair.

"Cool." Giving a thumbs-up to Free Willy, he said, "Protect my body, buddy!"

Then he headed into the darkened hallway, socked feet padding across the cold linoleum. He thought of heading for the playroom at the end of the hallway until he spotted Nurse Feliciano at the Nurses' Station.

"Hey, Feli! Look at me!" He called, running over, but Feliciano never looked up. The counter was too big for Alfred to see over so he ran to the side. "Hey! Feli? Hello?"

He patted at the desk, standing on his tiptoes to reach it and hopped up and down, catching a glimpse for a split second each time he did.

"He can't see us. None of them can," said a soft, high-pitched voice.

Alfred whirled around, shocked to see a boy, a couple years older than him, standing in the hall. He wore a long brown coat and light brown scarf. His hair was ashen-blonde and he had pale purple eyes.

He had a small, sad smile.

"Who are you?" Alfred asked.

"I'm Ivan," he said. "My body is three rooms down from yours."

(Next Time —

Ivan shows Alfred the strange powers of their out-of-body existence, but soon there are signs that this new ability comes with a price…. )