Twelve Years Later: Shadows Searching

by Futuramakid and Anthiena

DISCLAIMER: WE OWN NOTHING.

Several weeks later...

The same distant voices were audible now. The same sights from just beyond his field of vision were shadows almost real to his eyes. He knew they were not real, but he was disturbed. His mind was beginning to turn on itself. He realized this and wondered if this was why he was here. He began to believe he would never leave. Why he believed this, he could not say. He too began watching the viewers and never, never did he appear. He was bound here and this knowledge-false, little did he know-made the shadows both weaker and the voices quieter, but also more insistent.

"Shut. Up," he ground out to himself. But it would not help. Clockwork sensed his unrest, and in time, had divined its cause. He approached Phantom...

"Friend... I know you are troubled. But all sorrows pass..."

"I see and hear... nothing. Nevermind."

Sane people didn't see or hear things that weren't there.

"How do they when you stand still?" he asked.

"...You will not always abide here," Clockwork replied, " but... where you will be, is unwritten..."

"...Come, friend... I believe there is a place you are..." he paused, "needed."

Phantom's downcast expression didn't change.

"Alright."

It was a ritual, now, it seemed... Clockwork led him to the chamber... It was the same park. But it was winter now... He handed him the medallion.

"Go... you will know what to do when you arrive..." Clockwork instructed cryptically...

Phantom barely placed it around his neck, passing through the portal. It didn't matter... not really, it seemed. The park was quiet, blanketed in snow... It was dark. In the back of the park, on a bench by a man-made lake, he could see the figure of a person in a rather heavy coat...

"Well," she said, "if it isn't my own guardian angel."

She looked to her watch.

"Right on time... but you still haven't aged a day, eh?"

He blinked.

"Nah. I haven't. You knew I would be here? I must be going crazy..."

"...Twelve years ago... You told me you'd see me here, now," she said, "Christmas Eve, 2016."

He blinked. "So that's what year it is. I kept thinking 2015 for some reason."

"...Is time just like that for you? Do you just... lose track, since you don't age...?" she asked curiously...

He shrugged. "I wish I knew. I don't remember anything past a certain time and to me, it wasn't that long ago."

He sighed.

"I don't even know my name. Friend is just what I'm called."

"...For what it's worth... you've been a good one to me, when you run into me."

She smiled softly.

He chuckled. "Heh. All I know is the ticking of clocks that run at different speeds."

She had grown up... was she twenty five now?

"...Ticking... Maybe you are human, then," she mused... "time travel... It wouldn't exactly be the weirdest thing I've dealt with...and that'd explain you not knowing your plans, you... You haven't been there yet," she realized.

"Time travel would explain a lot..."

Wait.

"My plans?"

He laughed.

"What damn plans would I have?"

"Twelve years ago," she said, "you told me to meet you on this date. At this place. But when you showed up, you didn't even know the date."

He made a noncomittal sound.

"We'll see where that goes," he murmured.

"...It happens. It has to, if it didn't this wouldn't," she commented.

"Well my future may be in yours too, you know," he pointed out, "Even if a part is in your past, too." He stared at her face, reaching and touching her cold cheek.

"Hnnm."

He rested a palm, unwary and perhaps not thinking of the personal space he was intruding on.

She tilted her head at him...

"...Maybe so," she said, "maybe that's why you keep running into me."

So warm. He pulled back his hand.

"That is the first time I've touched someone that I can remember..."

"I'm honored," she said, smiling lopsidedly.

He looked down at his lap.

"I don't want to even know what I have forgotten..."

He seemed to fold in on himself, a hard proposition with his muscular frame.

"...how... how long have you not been able to remember things?" she asked, "if it's not prying..."

He considered.

"Maybe... three months. I'm not sure. Maybe six, less than a year, I know that much. I... uh... don't keep good track."

"...And in that time you've... come to see me... four times... Well, three."

He shrugged, smiling.

"Oh, I have something for you," she said, "it's Christmas, after all."

She pulled out a small piece of paper from her coat, and handed it to him...

"My dad turned this up just after the second time we met. I did it for my journal at school the next day, he'd put it in my keepsake box with all the others..."

He looked surprised and looked at the paper. "What...? Why?"

It was a crude drawing... and writing. Large lines. Filled years ago. The drawing depicted a young Valerie, her father, and himself. "Yesterday I met a Friend at the supermarket. I was lost, and scared, and he helped me find Daddy. Then I was happy," it read.

He laughed, his mouth, revealing his fangs.

"I thought you'd appreciate that," she said, grinning.

He folded it carefully and put it into a pocket.

"...It's cold out," she said, "you... wanna come with me, or do you have to pull a vanishing act as usual?"

He thought.

"Let's call it a date."

He grinned.

She took his hand, and started back towards her home...

"...So... where do you live, then?"

He shrugged. "A tower with the old man who found me. He helped me, I help him. He really likes clocks."

"...he does, does he...?" she said, wheels in motion...

He nodded.

"Do you mind if we... held hands? I think I miss touching."

She blushed, just a bit...

"Sure," she said, smiling a bit awkwardly...

She let one hand from its current glove... hand held his hand.

He lit up his hand, warming both hands as he held hers. He brought it to his face, rubbing it against his face and kissing her knuckles.

"Thank you."

She looked at the glow, surprised...

"...how... what...?"

"I don't know how I do it, either Val," he told her.

"...That looks like... Like an ecto-charge," she commented.

"A what? A charge sounds useful, this really isn't."

He began growing dizzy and the light faded. "...ow."

"An ecto-charge, like a ghost does before they expel ecto-energy," she said, "though I've never seen one held low-power like that... are you okay?"

"Yeah... when I float too long or use that light..."

He stopped.

"It's like I shouldn't."

He was sure he could hold it, but it hurt to.

"...Maybe you're a ghost," she mused, "or part-ghost..."

"Ghost, maybe. I can go through things here... but not in the tower. It's weird."

"You don't... really look like a full-ghost, though," she said, "full-ghosts have green or bluish skin... like it's dead. You look much more... alive."

"There are part ghosts?" he asked, confused and he grasped his head as a stabbing pain hit him.

Of course, idiot. You were one!

He shook his head.

"I was one...?"

"...You okay, friend?" she asked, concerned, putting an arm around him, "maybe you should lie down when we get to my place, it's not far..."

"I'm... fine. I... I think I remembered something."

"Oh?" she asked, "what is it?"

He kept close to her, liking the contact.

"I was a hybrid... but nothing else I can remember yet."

She nodded... "Makes sense, at least..."

They arrived. It was nice inside the house... It was her own place, a lease. Modest, but cozy. She removed her coat, hanging it by the door.

"You want coffee, or hot cocoa or something?" she asked, before adding, "you do eat, right?"

He sat down.

"No roommates? Impressive."

He too removed his coat, hanging it. Or trying to. It vanished as it left his fingertips.

"Uh, yeah."

He didn't ask.

She started up Mr. Coffee, and took a seat by him...

"Yeah, it's just me..." she said, shrugging, "I've been managing on my own a while now. But this is just a lease. Someday I'll have a nice house..."

He felt... decidedly odd. Something whispered to take advantage, another to just talk, still another to go back to Clockwork.

"That's cool," he replied.

"So, you don't have any name other than friend... You should pick a name," she said, smiling a bit.

"I'm... just a ghost. A phantom."

He waved off.

"Phantom... that works. Sounds better than friend, at least."

She chuckled, letting an arm go over his shoulder.

"Phantom..." he repeated, "...Phantom..."

He grasped his head.

"I... that... that was my name..."

"...Phantom, are you okay?" she asked, "I mean... is there anything I can do for the pain?"

He shook his head.

"Not that I'm aware of... it's... maybe I don't want to remember anything. What if I was this huge, crazy jerk?"

"You? A jerk?" she said, letting out a small laugh, "...Phantom... if you were, you're certainly not anymore. You've been there for me when I needed someone, like a guardian angel."

"Maybe so. But angels don't want to take their charges to bed."

He smirked and then caught himself.

"...sorry. Shouldn't have said that."

"My, forward... but I'm in a good mood."

She pecked him on the cheek.

"I'll let it slide."

He smiled crookedly.

"Heh... thanks."

It didn't stop him from wondering or thinking about it.

"...that was your first time, wasn't it?" she teased, getting back up and bringing two cups of hot cocoa, with marshmallows in it.

He went red.

"Nooo idea."

She blew hers, sipping from it...

"You can sleep with me, though," she said, "it's cold out, and I'm not gonna kick you out in it. But no action."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't do that..."

She smiled.

"You're a good man, Phantom... and that's hard to find, these days."

He shrugs.

"Whatever works."

She laughed, leaning into him as she sipped her cocoa...

"Merry Christmas," she said, realizing she hadn't wished it to him earlier.

"Merry Christmas." He made a strangely embarrassed expression before drinking some of the cocoa.

She sipped...

"This is nice. You should come by more often," she said. He nodded.

"Maybe someday."

He drank more cocoa, warming.

"You know... I had a bit of deja vu about Vladco, but it was probably nothing."

She shrugged, "Maybe you worked there or something, who knows..."

"Maybe, but I doubt it with the facial hair," he spoke, "Makes me look like a creep..."

"Eh, I like it," she said, feeling it with her free hand, "makes you look... rugged."

He smirked widely.

"That's nice to know."

She finished her mug, sitting it down, and cuddled into him just a bit.

He hugged her close, it came naturally enough, though no funny business.

"...You... This feels familiar," she mused, "like... Like I've done it before..."

"Who knows. Maybe we have and I don't remember."

She shook her head...

"I'd remember..."

"Huh. Who knows." He leaned in close enough to smell her. She smelled honest. She felt right with him, almost at home... she relaxed, laying her head on his chest... He wasn't sure when he fell asleep, the mug thankfully empty. He didn't dream, he never dreamed anymore. Or at least, he had no dreams he could recall. But when she awoke, he would be there no longer, the only evidence she didn't dream the encounter, the medallion on couch beside her... He awoke on his own bed, blinking in confusion.

"Ah, you're awake," Clockwork observed.

"Wait... how did I get here?" He massaged his temples, sitting up.

"I brought you back home," he said, "I was concerned... she was... aggravating your condition."

"My... condition? How?" he seemed confused.

"You... are not ready to face who you were. Not yet."

He blinked.

"You... you know who I was. Why? Why am I not ready?" he asked, emotions curling in him, heavy and hot. He was confused and angry. "Why not?"

Clockwork's face was calm as death...

"...You lack many things. One is the strength to learn the truth and objectively accept it, without lashing out. But... I believe there's something we must do, posthaste, either way..."

Phantom tilted his head. "...and what is that?"

"You have something you must do... Twelve years earlier, I believe she said."

"Oh yeah... before I forget," he realized, "and so she doesn't."

Clockwork nodded...

"Come... and be gentle with her. She... was fragile, at that time..."

He looked down.

...my guardian angel...

Twelve years earlier, from the perspective of Valerie Grey...

The words echoed in her head.

I'm not going to let you hurt him. Not my father.

The words that, in an instant, had shattered everything she thought she knew about ghosts. If they weren't just monsters... god, what had she done in the past months? She'd hunted them. Destroyed them... She wondered how many of them had families... children... and it haunted her. It ate at the back of her mind. How damned had she made herself? Valerie sighed, sinking against the park bench... and she cried... A warm hand touched her shoulder.

"Why are you... crying?"

She looked up... Surprise took her face...

"...I..." she began, then sighed, "it's... a long story, Mr. Friend..."

"Mind if I sit then...?" He sat next to her without a yes or no.

"...It all started... Well, with a boy I guess..." That much made her chuckle a bit to herself, in reflection, "doesn't it always..."

"...kinda. Yeah..." He chuckled. "Only it was an old man for me."

"But I didn't know he was a boy at the time... He... had another form. As a ghost. He... Well, it was an accident, but... as a ghost, he... wrecked some of my life pretty bad. My dad lost his job, that lost us our old house, he had to get back to working hours I know he can't really manage anymore... And... I hated it. I... I hated ghosts for being monsters that could do that to him. So... I hunted them. I destroyed them."

She lowered her head a bit, in shame.

"But... now I'm not so sure they are monsters, and... If they aren't, and I've destroyed so many of them... what does that make me? "And... how many of them might've had families, like me... and..." She ran out of words.

"I don't know... Valerie. That is what it makes you... and some do, some don't... but making up to the kid might be a good start."

She nodded...

"I know, but... Geez, how am I supposed to? I mean... I've been trying to kill him for a long time, would he even believe me?"

"I mean... I... I never believed him..." she added, softly...

He made a face. "Talking the talk is one thing... walk the walk and not say a word. He'll be impressed. He'll get the picture and come to you."

She nodded... "Thanks for the advice, Mr. Friend..."

Something seemed to dawn on her face...

"...You haven't aged a day," she said, amazed.

He shrugged.

"My life has been weird from the first thing I remember."

She laughed a bit, "Well, I know weird too, sir, but... It's probably just good genes."

"I... I think I'm gonna head home. Thanks for listening..." she said, smiling softly, "I... I really needed someone to talk to..."

He chuckled.

He chuckled. "Well... Christmas eve twelve years from now, I know what I'll get... a favor and this."

He dug out the paper. "Thanks in advance. Sort of."

He took off the medallion and vanished before her eyes.

"...wow..." she said, wondering if she'd just imagined the whole thing...