Chapter Eight: The Unquiet Dead

"Think about it, though. Christmas 1860. It happened once. Just once, and it's… gone, it's finished. It'll never happen again. Except for you. You can go back and see days that are dead and gone, a hundred thousand sunsets ago. No wonder you never stay still"

-Rose Tyler

------

"I am truly sorry for your loss." The young man shook his head, staring at the casket in front of him, hands clenching on the sides of the wooden coffin. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the balding man that stood here, barely taking in the black suit that the man wore before turning back to the coffin, staring at the wrinkled face of the woman. He sighed, leaning forward and shaking his head.

"I don't understand, she was always so lively. It seems impossible that she could just be…" He shook his head again, staring at the floor and the toes of his black shoes. "Could you allow me a moment, Mr. Sneed. I just require more time to say good-bye."

Mr. Sneed gave a quick half bow, backing away. "Of course, sir. Just call if you need my assistance."

The young man watched him go before lifting his shaking hands up from the casket to put them over his face, trembling slightly. He missed his grandmother, the old woman has raised him since his parents had died when he had been young.

Too entrenched in his sorrow, he missed the blue vapor that came from the gas lamps, swirling around the coffin close to the ceiling before descending into the corpse that sat in the coffin. His grandmother's eyes snapped open, the corpse slowly sitting up and turning to look at the young man.

He gave a muffled sob before looking up, his eyes going wide as he noticed that his grandmother was looking at him. He smiled, his mouth open to speak with his grandmother reached out and wrapped her hand around his neck and squeezing. The young man gasped and scrambled at the fingers around his neck, choking and trying to make some sort of noise to summon Mr. Sneed from the other room.

Mr. Sneed rushed into the room seconds later, his mouth dropping open in shock as he watched the corpse drop her former grandson to the ground. He glanced over at the wall, grabbing the lid to the coffin that had been lying propped up against the wall. He rushed over to the coffin, struggling to run and hold the lid as the corpse made to get out. Mr. Sneed nearly jumped over the body, slamming the lid back on the grandmother, growling when she fought back. He pushed his full weight on the lid, grunting with the effort that it took. But it was still a wasted effort, the corpse easily throwing Mr. Sneed and the lid away from her just as easily.

He knocked his head against the table, wincing and raising his hand to cover his head, pulling his fingers away when he felt something wet on his fingers. Mr. Sneed hissed at the sight of blood, looking back up to see the corpse of the grandmother walk out into the street, probably moaning by now. He pushed from the ground, one hand fumbling for his handkerchief as he ran out of the room, leaping awkwardly over the other corpse on the floor. "Gwyneth!"

He slowed down, panting for breath as he headed for the front door, still dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief. Mr. Sneed perked up at the sound of the door opening, turning to watch as the Welsh woman walked in, her black hair cut short, matching the black of her maid uniform. He quickly pocked his handkerchief, looking at her. "Mr. Sneed, what happened?"

"Another one. This one strangled her grandson!"

"Mr. Sneed, for shame!"

"How was I to know that she would walk?!"

Gwyneth shook her head, her hands fisting in her skirts. "How many more must we put up with?"

"I don't know, but we have to find her. Are the horses ready?"

"I just finished putting them up." Gwyneth sighed and turned back to get the horses ready, Mr. Sneed grabbing his coat and rushing out after her. They didn't have the time to stand on ceremony here, that corpse had to be found quickly. He picked up the tangle of the harness, slipping it onto the black horse as Gwyneth got the hearse ready, the two easily getting the vehicle onto the street in no time.

Mr. Sneed clambered up into the driver's seat, lowering a hand to help Gwyneth into the seat, slapping the reins over the back of the black horse and encouraging it out into the snow covered cobbles. They traveled a few feet in silence before he looked at his servant, drawing her attention by clearing his throat. She turned to look at him, some apprehension in her gaze. He winced at that, hating that he was asking this of her, but it had never been wrong before. He leaned a little bit forward, talking in a low voice to keep the other people who were out at night from hearing him. "I need you to find her. Use the Sight."

"I…I can't" She looked away, staring at the street. Mr. Sneed touched her shoulder, encouraging her to look back at him. "It's not right, sir."

"Now listen here, you do as I say or we'll both be out of a job and you'll be back on the streets."

She shivered and closed her eyes, Mr. Sneed letting her have the moment while he kept driving. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, relaxing when Gwyneth opened her eyes again, her gaze slightly unfocused. That was good, it meant that Gwyneth was looking. He waited, holding his breath until he realized what he was doing, letting his breath out in a rush. In the exhalation, he almost missed Gwyneth beginning to speak, her voice so soft.

"She was excited. She had been looking forward to this day for a long time. She had the ticket in her pocket."

"For what?" He was getting impatient. The longer the corpse was out, the more likely trouble was going to happen. And then he would be called to get the body, and it would be spread around that the body had been in his care. His reputation would crumble after that. And that would be a hard blow to him with his business was already barely breaking even, but it was against his religion to pray for the death of people just to keep money coming in.

Gwyneth sucked in a quick breath, sitting back in the seat. "She was off to see the great man. The great, great man…" She blinked and shook her head, looking over at Mr. Sneed. "I know where she is. Head toward the theater."

Mr. Sneed nodded and urged the horse to a faster pace, taking the next turn to keep away from the major traffic areas. People were disturbed by the sight of the hearse, Mr. Sneed often trying to keep it from sight, as it was a reminder of his job. But right now, he was totally focused on getting the corpse back to the funeral home before people saw it.


"Ten minutes, Mr. Dickens." The elderly man who was addressed looked up, nodding and taking a final sip out of his glass before staring at the mirror. The stage hand frowned and leaned a bit further into the dressing room, looking at the despondent reflection of the man in the mirror. Charles Dickens caught his gaze, turning around in his chair, the stage hand blushing at being caught. Dickens shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

"I am far too used to being stared at to bother anymore. Far too used to many things to bother anymore." He sighed and looked at the empty glass that rested on the table, picking up and rolling it around in his hand. "I have reached the end of my creativity and feel used and dry."

The stage hand bit his lip, looking down at the floor before daring to look back up at Dickens. "Well, it's nearly Christmas."

"To quote myself, ba humbug." Dickens gave a strained smile before leaning forward. "The Christmas season has no standing on my health, even if I were with my family, they no longer understand." He sighed, setting the glass down on the table before standing up, the stagehand giving him an encouraging smile that wasn't quite recognized. He sighed and reached for his coat, mentally preparing himself for the performance. "On with the motley."

He followed the stagehand onto the stage, adjusting his coat as he walked. His heart sank a bit at the sight of the red curtain. That's all this was, just another performance, another repetition of what he had done. There was just nothing original left him, drained of all his original thoughts. Maybe he had thought everything he would ever think. Dickens shook his head, clearing it before stepping out to the smatter of applause from the audience. He surveyed the people who had come, just another crowd and just another performance. By now, he had The Christmas Carol memorized, but he stood at the podium and pretended to read out of the book anyway. It was all part of the performance.

Dickens began to read, his voice automatically going through the right inflections and looking over the audience. There were few parts that he could still really get into, but the spark was fading there too. It was scary in a way, but he didn't let himself linger on that thought, he was too focused on just giving his performance for the people. After all, they had paid for it and he earned money from it. And performance seemed like the only thing he could do now, seeing as he had ran out of creativity.

He forged ahead through his own book, absently describing the knocker and Scrooge's reaction to it when he noticed one elderly woman out in the audience, his attention drawn to her again and again. Dickens found he couldn't look away, amazed that the image from his book was being replayed right in front of him, not really aware that he had started stuttering as he stared at the woman's face. There was something unearthly about her, chilling and cold. Dickens shifted as he saw her face beginning to glow slightly blue, his eyes widening as he finally broke out of his comfortable rut, raising a shaking hand to point at the woman. "It looked like that!"

The audience turned to look at the woman, people screaming and rushing out of their seats and heading for the exits. On her part, the elderly woman only stood up and tipped her head back, letting out a moan that turned slowly into a screech. Dickens stumbled back against his podium, feeling it shift slightly as he leaned his weight against it, craning his neck back to see the streams of blue emerge from the elderly woman, rising to the ceiling and swirling around the hall.


"Come on!" Yugi winced as the Pharaoh hit the TARDIS console, opening his mouth to say something when a particularly hard rock of the ship jolted him to one side. He scrambled for a better hold, almost loosing his hold before the ship came to an abrupt stop. He was thrown against the console, coughing as the breath was knocked out of him. He glared up at the Pharaoh, who was looking incredibly smug. Yugi groaned and peeled himself away from the console, rubbing his aching stomach.

The Pharaoh smirked and pointed at the door, gesturing for Yugi to open it first. The young man paused, looking down at himself before giving a shrug. He was sure that the Pharaoh would warn him if his clothes were a little off for the time. Of course, he could have been more extreme than the jeans and black shirt that he was wearing, but he hadn't been expecting to be dragged through time. Yugi smiled before walking to the door, resting his hand on the wood of the door before cautiously opening it, his mouth dropping open as he saw the snow that layered the ground. He took a foot and stepped in the snow, smiling at the print that his sneakers left behind. Yugi shivered and backed into the TARDIS, looking partially apologetic. "A coat would be nice."

The Pharaoh rolled his eyes and wandered through the doorway that Yugi assumed led to other parts of the TARDIS, probably muttering something about stupid humans. He returned movements later with a jacket that he threw at Yugi, who caught is clumsily before rushing out the TARDIS door to stand in the snow again, looking up at the sky and taking a deep breath. The air was different here in Naples, cleaner than back in Domino, which was something that he was very glad off. He took a step forward, only to be caught by the Pharaoh, pouting as the Time Lord walked out beside him, looking around with a nod. "See, no problem. You wanted a time machine and you got a time machine."

The TARDIS was given a pat before they set off, leaving the side street they were parked in for the main street, Yugi fighting the urge to shrink behind the Pharaoh as he looked at all the people. They were all dressed so differently than they were, top hats and dark colored coats as they strolled along the lamp lit street. He swallowed nervously, keeping up with the Pharaoh's long strides as they kept on the sidewalk, tipping his head up to look at the architecture, so different from the old styles that he saw around Domino and out into the country. Western architecture. He smiled to himself.

And he had thought that he would never get anywhere in his life. He thought that he would be stuck in one place. Look at him now, traveling through time and all over the world, being bold. It was one thing that he never thought that he would be able to do. Yugi smiled, reaching out discretely to brush his fingertips against the brick of one of the buildings, sighing at the slightly rough texture. This is what life should be like. Utterly amazing.

He turned his head to look at the Pharaoh, noticing that the Time Lord had wandered off to get a newspaper, walking ahead while reading the headline. Yugi frowned when the Pharaoh stopped abruptly, staring at something in the paper. He ran up to the Pharaoh, trying to look at the paper only to have the Pharaoh hide it from him. He glared at the Pharaoh's back as the Time Lord moved off, running to catch up and poke the Pharaoh in the back in passing. The Time Lord glared at him briefly before rolling his eyes. "What?"

"You looked like you were given bad news? Am I right?"

The Pharaoh shifted uncomfortably before looking down at him. "It's not that bad."

"That bad?"

"Look," the Pharaoh turned, his coat flaring out behind him, "it's still Christmas."

Yugi nodded, staring after him as the Pharaoh walked off, smiling himself before running after the Pharaoh. "Okay, then when are we. Are in just in the future?"

"No. It's 1869."

Yugi shrugged at the announcement, rolling his eyes. "That's not bad. So we're nine years off. We're here, in Naples, at Christmas." He noticed the flinch when he mentioned the place, staring at the Pharaoh. "Where are we?"

"Cardiff, Wales."

Yugi came to an abrupt stop, his mind trying to work over what he had been given. He tapped a few fingers against his leg before throwing his hands up in the air. "Where's Wales?!"

The Pharaoh stopped walking, spinning around to stare at Yugi. "It's a small country on the island of Britain, under British rule."

Yugi couldn't help it; he began to laugh, having to lean against the building to keep from sliding to the snowy sidewalk. He pushed away after drawing in a deep breath, walking over to the Pharaoh with a smirk on his face, trying to hide his laughter and look thoughtful. "So, you are telling me, that the only thing that you got right was the date?"

The Pharaoh, as he predicted, completely ignored his question. Somehow, that amused Yugi even more. The great Pharaoh was wrong and he could be wrong. This made everything better. Now there were infinite possibilities for comebacks. As for now, he would just smile, making sure to annoy the Pharaoh with the fact that he was not infallible. Unfortunately, the Pharaoh beat him to the punch, spinning around to confront him on the sidewalk. "Listen, the TARDIS is old and I do the best I can with your primitive materials to keep her in shape. So there is a chance that, through faulty Earth material, we will land off target. Got it?"

Yugi nodded, but just continued smirking. Of course the Pharaoh would try to cover with that. Yugi shrugged, nearly skipping along the street as the Pharaoh followed after him, the Time Lord still in a bad mood. Yugi was about to turn around and continue his teasing when he heard screams, jerking in the direction of the sound. The move, thankfully, brought him out of the path of the paper as the Pharaoh threw it to the side, the insane smile crossing his face. Yugi shook his head, walking in the direction of the screams. "Will it ever be quiet with you?"

"Never." The Pharaoh took off across the street, leaving Yugi to cautiously look both ways, having to edge around the hearse that was parked there. He absently gave the black horse's muzzle a pat before dashing after the Pharaoh.

He entered the theater at top speed, having to fight through the masses of people escaping; catching a glimpse of the Pharaoh's coat every once and a while through the rush of people. Yugi wriggled his way through a small space between the flow of people and the doorframe, wincing as his side was slammed against the frame before he finally way free. He stumbled into the room, continuing his running just to avoid being pulled out with the flow of people. But his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Blue gaseous shapes were floating around the ceiling, circling low around a single elderly lady still in the seats. Even as Yugi watched, she collapsed, two people rushing in from the sides immediately to grab her.

"Pharaoh!" The Pharaoh turned to look at him from his place on the stage, Yugi taking the opportunity to scramble onto the back row of seats. "I'll go after her!"

He jumped over the seats, easily making his way towards the end of the row. He kept his eyes on the people who were heading out of the door, making good time since they were going with the flow of people, just before Yugi slipped out of the door, he thought he heard the Pharaoh shout after him, "Be careful!"

Yugi tore out from the theater, heading out onto the sidewalk. He paused there, looking around for the two people that he was follow, his eyes widening as he saw that the two people loading the elderly woman into the hearse. He gave a low growl and charged across the street, glad that there wasn't a lot of traffic this late at night. "Stop!"

He saw the two look at each other before the man walked over to the front of the hearse, the woman going to block the elderly woman that they had carried out here. He slid to a stop, frowning when the woman began a hurried explanation. "Oh, this poor old woman just went and collapsed from the heat of that theater and the prose of Mr. Dickens. We'll be taking her home safely."

Yugi wiggled around her, using his small size to his advantage. He heard the woman gasp, ignoring the sound while he rested his fingers against the elderly woman's neck. He had learned this for work, going through a quick seminar on CPR and learning where to take a pulse. To his shock and horror, there was no pulse, just cold skin. Yugi pulled his hand away, looking down at it for a while before glancing up at the woman. "She's dead."

He began to back around the woman, staring at her in horror. What had happened in the short time it had taken him to get out here? What had they done to her? The woman had obviously been alive when she was in the theater. Yugi shook his head, pointing a shaking finger at the woman. "You killed her!"

"No, no, you misunderstand." Yugi was about to retort when he felt a strong hand land on his shoulder an arm wrapping around him before pressing a strange smelling cloth to his face. His eyes widened and he tried to struggle, his limbs getting weak even as he tried to move. Quickly, he slumped in the hold that the man had on him, his consciousness slowly fading away, vaguely hearing the conversation between the two.

"What have you done?"

"I don't know. I panicked! Now, get him into the hearse."

Yugi wanted to protest, almost able to smile as the woman spoke up. "But he's still alive!"

"Now listen here, we have no time for this! Put him in the hearse and we'll deal with him later." Yugi had the sensation of being moved before everything went black.


The Pharaoh leaned against the stage, partially assured that Yugi would take care of himself while dealing with the people who had carried the elderly woman out. Right now, his attention was focused on the ghostly forms that were floating around the ceiling. He frowned before jumping up onto the stage, ignoring the people shouting and just watching the creatures.

They gave the room another frantic circled before one of them ventured too close to one of the gas powered laps, being sucked it. The Pharaoh stared at the lamp before looking at the rest of the ghostly forms, eyes widening as they too were absorbed into lamps. He stared at the nearest wall, wracking his brain for a cause when something turned him around, the Time Lord staring down at the man who had been on stage while everything had happened.

"You! Did you cause-"

"Did you see anything?" The Pharaoh ignored the fact that he had just interrupted someone, turning his head to stare at the nearest gas lamp. What creature would need gas like that? He shook his head, he was working off too little information. He turned back to the man on the stage, awaiting his answer. The man just stared at him, his mouth open in amazement. The Pharaoh rolled his eyes and ran for the exit. He would regroup with Yugi and pick the human's brain. Maybe Yugi had seen something that he had missed. He was sure that the elderly woman was important to this.

He slowed when he stepped out into the night, his eyes scanning for Yugi. The human should be still out here if he had managed to stop those two, and Yugi wasn't exactly hard to spot. The Pharaoh turned in place, coming to an abrupt stop when he saw a flash of black and red spiked hair, his eyes following the limp fall of an arm as a woman stuffed a body into a hearse. His mouth suddenly felt dry, the Pharaoh unable to do anything for a while. Because it couldn't be true. He wouldn't let it be true.

He forced himself to move as the hearse began to pull away, running to the nearest cab and pulling open the door. He scrambled halfway in before looking up and shouting at the driver, "Follow that hearse!"

The man from the stage crawled in after him, the Pharaoh shooting him a look of loathing before focusing on the slow moving coach. He peeked out the window, frustrated to see the hearse so far ahead. He leaned out the window. "Faster, we don't want to lose them!"

"Why should we?" The Pharaoh pulled his head back in and stared at the man. "This is my coach!"

"Well then tell the driver to move faster!"

"No!" The Pharaoh turned his glare on the man, ready to tell him off when the driver looked back at them, yelling back at them. "Everything alright, Mr. Dickens?"

The Pharaoh stared at the man. "You're Charles Dickens."

"Yes."

He briskly shook Dickens' hand. "You're books were amazing…mostly."

"What do you mean by mostly?"

The Pharaoh didn't answer already focusing on the hearse that they were chasing. "Now, I've got someone to get to and some ghosts to figure out."

"They weren't ghosts."

"Exactly."

Dickens paused at his forthright answer before leaning forward. "Driver, faster."

The carriage lurched forward, Dickens nearly thrown from his seat with the move, the Pharaoh keeping his balance easily. His focused on the clatter of hooves on the ground rather than his own racing thoughts. It wouldn't help him if he got ahead of himself. But the matter of what exactly those creatures were was bothering him. Because ghosts did not exist, at least, not like that. The Pharaoh leaned slightly on the wall of the carriage closer to him, mentally repeating the species of alien that would appear and disappear like that, and still getting nothing. There was still too much information that he was missing.

He jolted out of his thoughts as the carriage came to a stop, bolting out of the vehicle before Dickens could move. He took a glance at the gloomy house before walking up to the door and knocking on it. He heard Dickens come panting up behind him, looking over his shoulder at the man before the door was opened, the Pharaoh recognizing the woman from the theater; the same woman who had loaded Yugi into the hearse. His frown deepened when she put on a smile and spoke. "I'm sorry, we're closed."

"Nonsense. Since when did an undertaker keep office hours? The dead don't die on schedule." Dickens snapped at the woman, the Pharaoh watching her flinch back under the verbal barrage, his attention suddenly distracted by a sudden flicker of a lamp further down the hall. The lamp was too far from the door to be affected by the draft, which left it no reason to be behaving like that. The Pharaoh pushed past the woman, ignoring her calls for him to come back, placing his ear on the wall and gently tapping it.

"Sounds like you've got something in your pipes." He stood up straight, waiting for the woman to respond when he heard a scream; a scream in a familiar voice. The Pharaoh spun on his heel, locating the sound quickly and running down the hall. He shoved aside the man, running for the room where the screaming was coming from. It was Yugi's voice.


Please read and review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.