Author's Note: Ta-Da!! Here it is – the final chapter. I happen to like happy endings. I can't always make them happen, but this one worked out okay I think. Thanks a whole, whole bunch to everyone who's followed this through to the end, and thanks in advance to anyone who comes across this later and decides to read it – you're all awesome! I hope I did The Kingdom justice. Bye everyone!

Last Day: Home

Becca stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom attached to her hospital room. She looked as normal as could be expected, for someone who had barely slept in over a year, and who had spent her waking hours mumbling incoherently about wells and rings and little girls in white dresses. Her eyes with both ringed in dark circles that would probably hang around for at least week, and she was very pale and very thin. But that wouldn't last. It was a small price to pay, all things considered. She was alive, and she had her mind back. That was what mattered.

When Becca had gone downstairs the day before and told Dr. Massingale what was happening, Dr. Massingale had taken it surprisingly well. She'd woken up Sally Druse, whom Becca only vaguely remembered meeting, and the three of them had sat up talking for almost three hours. It was only when Elmer appeared to deliver the message that Dr. Massingale was late for rounds that they were forced to disburse. Becca stayed with Sally, playing cards and talking about ghosts, until mid-afternoon when Dr. Massingale came back to tell them that, yes, she'd checked on the other patients in the psyche ward, and yes, they were all okay. Although there was quite a lot of water on the floor of up there – something for maintenance to deal with, of course.

Before sunset, Dr. Massingale made Becca go through a handful of very basic tests, just to make sure she was really "all better", and then she'd sent a report to Dr. James to have Becca checked out, so she could go home. Becca had begged Dr. Massingale to let her spend the night in the sleep lab that night. She knew that Samara was more or less gone, but she didn't want to stay in her room in case there was any leftover psychic residue that could torment her. Dr. Massingale agreed; she was so thrilled to see Becca lucid again, she didn't care where she slept. Becca also asked her not to call her parents until the morning; she wanted one night alone, without answering any more questions. Again, Dr. Massingale agreed.

Now it was ten o'clock in the morning. Becca had packed her few belongings, showered, and met her parents at the front desk about an hour ago. While they signed the necessary paperwork, Becca had gone back to her room once more, to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

She leaned a little closer to the mirror, touched the skin under her eyes lightly and wondered if she couldn't just cover those black circles with make-up. It didn't matter. She sighed and turned back to the room.

A boy with black eyes and tangled black hair was standing in the center of the room, watching her. Becca started, but then smiled. "Hi," she said. "I was wondering if I'd see you again."

Paul smiled, but didn't say anything.

"Is she really gone?" asked Becca.

Paul nodded. "Well, she won't be bothering you anymore. She's with Gottreich."

"Oh. He. . . Is he going to hurt her?"

Paul laughed. "Now's not the time to start feeling sorry for the hitchhiker, Becca."

"Right. . ." Becca looked down at the floor and tugged at her shirtsleeve absently.

"You're leaving," said Paul. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," said Becca. "I'm not crazy anymore, so. . ." She shrugged.

Paul grinned. "You weren't crazy," he said. "You just had an evil ghost living in your head for a while."

Becca laughed awkwardly.

"What are you going to do?" Paul asked.

"I don't know," said Becca. "I guess I have to go back to school first. I only had one year left, but I have some catching up to do. And then there's college. I was thinking of going into medicine, maybe."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Sure – why not? I think I'd like helping people."

"Mm."

A thick silence took over then. Paul rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. Becca tugged at a strand of her hair.

"Thanks," said Becca. "I mean. . . Thank you."

"For what?"

"Are you kidding? You saved my life!"

"No – she wouldn't have killed you."

"That's not what I meant. There are worse things than dying, I think."

Paul's mouth twitched into an almost-smile. "Right," he said. "Well . . . you're welcome."

Becca smiled and crossed the room to the T.V., still shrouded, in the corner.

"Y'know," said Paul, "I only did that so she wouldn't take over the Old Kingdom. I was just being territorial – this is my haunting ground, y'know? I'm one of the bad guys."

Becca tugged at the towel over the T.V. and it fell to the floor. "You're not one of the bad guys," she said. "I don't think she was either. She was just really selfish. And she was in a lot of pain – I felt that the whole time. She wanted everyone else to hurt as much as she did." She folded up the towel and put in neatly at the foot of the bed.

Paul watched her. "Becca," he said.

She looked up.

"You won't forget me, will you?" he asked.

Becca stared at him, at the detachment and sorrow behind the darkness in his eyes, and realized just how young he was. Younger than she, by a year or two, but before she hadn't seen it so clearly. He'd seemed ageless before, in a sort of haunted and intangible way. But not now. How horrible it must have been, to be so alone, and unable to grow up. "I won't forget you, Paul," she said.

(scene break)

Samara had never felt powerless once in her entire life, or afterlife. This intrusion was unacceptable. She hollered until the walls crumbled and bits of plaster and rock fell from the ceiling, but Gottreich was stronger. She couldn't make him stop. She couldn't get away. She had no choice but to lie on the table and wait until he grew tired of her. It was hours. Days, maybe. She couldn't tell. Time didn't matter anymore; the seven days were up, and she had failed. She'd lost everything.

It wasn't the pain so much that upset her. She had known pain at the hands of bad doctors before. And she'd made them hurt for hurting her. She'd thrown their mistreatment of her back at them a hundred-fold. And she hadn't stopped there. She didn't want to stop. Because it was never enough. No matter how many innocent lives piled up in her wake, she was never satisfied. Nothing would make the pain stop.

When Gottreich finally let her go, she tried to find Becca again. She reached out with the fingers of her being, looking for the dark places in Becca's mind that had held her for so long. She couldn't find them. So she looked for an empty space, any space, a strip of blank film or an unprinted X-ray, to throw her thoughts back into the world and start over; there was nothing. There was nothing but this dark place, this hallway steeped in the bloodied history of the Gates Falls Mill, and of Gottreich, and the Old Kingdom. She couldn't get out.

She ran from one end of the decrepit hospital to the other, banging on doors and rounding dim corners, looking for some way out. Disembodied voices floated through the air over her, distracting her, calling attention to their own suffering rather than hers. She cried out again to drown them out, and kept running. Finally she came to the end of yet another hallway, another dead end, and slammed a fist into the cold mortar. She could feel herself giving up, accepting that she couldn't escape, and she didn't like it.

A low rumble went through the ground, and behind her, the faint growl of some great beast. Samara went still. She turned, and saw the giant anteater at the other end of the hallway, just before the bend. It padded slowly, relentlessly towards her. It was in no rush. Samara backed into the wall behind her without realizing it. And as the anteater approached, it changed shape. The legs lengthened and the spine rose straight. The soft, golden fur fell away, replaced by worked leather and black cotton, and a silver pendant like a cross with a loop appeared around the neck. The long nose disappeared, melting into fine, even features and pale, smooth skin. The padding steps gave way to regular, human footsteps. Not an anteater, not Antibus, but Anubis. The Guardian of the Gate, ancient Egyptian god of the dead. When he reached her, Anubis bent down so that his face was level with hers, and smiled.

"Do you know who I am, Samara?" he asked, in the voice that was so like Paul's but so different.

"NO!" she shouted. "Get away – I'm not going!"

"Oh, you're so stubborn," Anubis chided gently. "What are you afraid of? Everyone has to cross over eventually. Also, I've been cleaning up after you for more than twenty years now, and I don't want to do it anymore."

Samara pouted, making the stern, rigid face that had terrified her victims literally to death. Anubis saw nothing but a spoiled little child who didn't want to grow up.

Anubis straightened up and looked down at her. She shrank back, and the pout became a silent whimper.

"You know there's only one way out of this Kingdom, Samara," said Anubis. "If you stay here, you won't be allowed outside. You won't cause any more damage in the living world. You won't even see them, the way the ghosts of the Old Kingdom can. You'll be stuck here, with no friends, no family, no victims. Only Gottreich will be able to touch you, if he's in the mood. That's your fate, if you don't follow me."

Samara made a face. "Just Gottreich?" she asked.

Anubis smiled. "Ah, you are listening," he said. "I'm letting Paul go. I told him in the beginning that his only way out of here was to do something willingly for someone other than himself. He didn't want to, so I sent Gottreich after him. That crazy old man always wanted an assistant. Paul's been bound to Gottreich ever since. But now, he's finally figured it out. He took it upon himself to save, not only Becca, but everyone on the psyche ward. Maybe you too, if you wanna think about it that way."

"What happens if I follow you?" asked Samara.

"Well you made a pretty big mess," said Anubis. "Nothing I can't handle, but every single person you killed has been stuck in limbo this whole time. They can't move on, because of the trauma of the experience. They need closure."

"What do I have to do?" Samara asked slowly.

"You have to talk to them. Tell them why you really did it. And then tell them you're sorry."

"What, everyone?"

"That's right, everyone."

Samara looked away and sank back against the wall. Anubis regarded her quietly, then knelt down on his knee and leaned close to her. "How about this," he said. "You do me a solid, and I'll do you a solid."

Samara looked back at him, but didn't say anything.

"Paul doesn't know he's free yet," said Anubis. "How would you like to break the news to him?"

"He won't believe me. . ."

"Oh, he'll believe you. Paul knows a liar when he hears one. You do that for me, and I'll make it so that you only have to go through this once. You apologize to just one person, and I can make it so that all the others will hear you. Get it all over with at once."

"Who? Which one do I have to apologize to?"

"Katie." Anubis stood up again. "What do you say? We have a deal here?"

Samara stared at the Ankh on his chest, not meeting his gaze. "I don't want to go," she said. "I'm afraid."

Anubis smiled. "Don't be," he said. "I'll be right here." He held his hand out to her.

Samara stared at the hand, and then at him, meeting his eyes finally. She reached out, trembling just a little, and put her tiny hand into his. Anubis folded his fingers around hers, and together they walked away from the dark place.

It would still be a long time before everything was right in the Old Kingdom. But for now, for just this one night, the hospital, and all its spirits, were at peace.

The End.

02.18.2008