AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I am so sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last. For the last few months, my writing was focused on my other fanfiction stories, while I was waiting for that spark of inspiration for this story to come back. Sure enough, it did. Hooray for electricity.

Thank you to everyone for your reviews and kind words. They are always appreciated.

This chapter is a bit of an emotional and drama-filled one. Consider it my way of saying sorry for the long delay.

Chapter 9: Cause and Effect

The moon hung in the sky above the dead town, the twisted buildings looming above the streets and frenzied citizens. The newly-deads made their way down the street toward the Ball and Socket bar, Victor doing his best to ignore the stares he was getting. Other passersby on the street, or vendors by the side of the cobblestone road, would often shoot looks at him and Emily, having obviously remembered what had happened between them a year ago.

The young man felt slightly embarrassed and uneasy about his fame in the Land of the Dead. Emily, however, was no stranger to receiving looks – her sad story was quite well-known throughout the town. Thankfully though, no one came up to badger them with questions and respected their privacy.

The two kept a reasonable distance from each other, not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea. Victor was a married man, after all. A rather uncomfortable silence had stretched on between them ever since they had left the balcony above the city, and neither of them knew what to say to each other.

Scores of jazz music could be heard drifting through the air as the pair entered the bar, the rickety wooden sign swinging above their heads. The scene inside the pub was as raucous and lively as ever, as cadavers and spectres drifted here and there, engaging in conversation, playing pool or tossing back drinks.

The din of conversation dulled quite suddenly, and as he made his way down the entry stairs, Victor was painfully aware of the many pairs of eyes and eye-sockets directed toward him and Emily. Some began to whisper, which only served to add to his discomfort.

"Hello Emily and Victor!" the hoarse voice of Mrs Plum rang out as she crossed the floor, shoving other patrons aside.

"Mrs Plum," the young man in question greeted. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened last night – "

"It's about time you two found your way here!" a loud voice came from the stage, interrupting them. They looked to see Bonejangles making his way across the tavern toward them, a wide grin on his face. "What say we get this party started, eh?" He lifted a pair of bony fingers to his mouth and whistled for the attention of the head waiter. "Hey, Frenchy! A wine for the pale beauty, and a whisky for me and Victor!"

"Oh, no no no, I don't need one," he stammered.

"Oh, very well," the skeleton said slyly, before looking back toward the bar. "Paul, make it two for Victor then!"

Before he could protest, he felt a bony hand grabbing his own in a firm handshake. "Mr Van Dort," the tall maroon-suited skeleton greeted, before taking Emily's skeletal hand and planting a soft kiss upon it. "And Emily, my dear. You are looking as radiant as ever."

She smiled. "And you are as eloquent as ever, Alfred."

"It's good to see you two found each other again." He nodded at Victor. "I was about to tell you that she had chosen to stay behind, but you departed rather abruptly last night. Is everything alright?"

The look on Mrs Plum's face mirrored the concern.

"Oh, y-yes, quite," he said, uncomfortably twisting his cravat. "I'm terribly sorry about that, I was just – "

"Ah, don't sweat it. You're not the first one to freak out about being dead," Bonejangles put, rather unceremoniously, as he returned from the bar and handed everyone their drinks. "Why, your little performance last night won me a fair few drinks!"

"You take bets on this kind of thing?" Emily asked, frowning in disapproval.

"All in good fun," he said, his single eye widening slightly. "Anyway, now that you two lovebirds are back together – "

Victor choked on his whiskey. "What?! No, it's n-not like that – " he began, but Emily beat him to the punch.

"Victor is married, but his wife is still alive," she explained, her voice reserved and neutral.

"Oh, I see," Mrs Plum said quietly. "Is it that woman who was at your wedding? The one who was hiding behind the pillar?"

Emily pursed her lips and said nothing.

The jazz singer, however, seemed to be quite put out by the news. He turned toward Victor. "Ah, yes, that wispy little bird. I sure hope she was worth breaking Emily's heart yet again – "

"Bonejangles, that's enough!" she said sharply.

A beat passed, and then the skeleton tipped his bowler hat and sauntered off. "You kids have fun. I gotta go backstage and make sure the band's ready. We're performing in a bit."

"...Well, congratulations on your marriage," Mrs Plum said awkwardly.

Victor nodded politely, and no more words were exchanged for a moment. Not knowing how he could break the awkward situation, he took a sip of his whiskey and nearly choked in the process. The stuff really did taste ghastly.

"Victor!" came a hoarse and gravelly voice.

The young man turned and a wide smile broke out on his face when he saw a plump and hunched-over man, with a pear-shaped face and small black top-hat, approaching them. "Mayhew!" he exclaimed happily.

The blue-tinged man clasped his hand, and then pulled the pipe out of his mouth and gave Mrs Plum a long and gob-smacking kiss that left everyone else present feeling rather awkward. At least now Victor knew who her husband was.

"It's good to see you again," Mayhew said to his old master when the kiss finally ended. "And, uh... sorry... about you being dead and all..."

"That is of no consequence," Alfred piped up. "Everyone is together now, and that's what matters."

The two youngest members of the group straightened at the skeleton's words. He was right. Despite all the odds, they had found each other again. Their friendship had endured, even through life and death.

Victor spared a glance at Emily as she sipped her wine. She noticed him looking at her, and smiled softly back.

Later on, the streets of the Land of the Dead were silent, its denizens having retired for the evening. Aside from idle passersby, the only sounds to be heard were the footsteps of Victor's dress shoes and Emily's heels.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Back to my place," came the reply. "I have something I want to show you."

Red flags went up in Victor's head at those words, but he immediately dismissed them. Emily was not that kind of girl.

He followed her through the cobblestoned laneways, and eventually came to a rotten wooden door at the base of one of the decrepit old buildings that towered overhead. Emily eased the door open, its hinges creaking. It appeared that no one saw the need to lock their doors in the Land of the Dead.

Victor took a look around Emily's home. It seemed quite simple – a rather cozy space with a worn sofa against one wall, and a small table with a wrought-iron stand in the centre, which bore a single candle. The flickering flame cast the room in a dim light. There was a small bookcase in one corner, laden with several leather-bound tomes. Victor recognised one of them as a collection of Shakespearean plays. Victoria owned the same volume.

The thought of her brought a pang to the young man's heart.

There was only one other door, which he guessed led to the bedroom. It appeared that, in the Land of the Dead, there were no parlours, or dining halls, or lavish and petty rooms that served no purpose other than to make a house larger and emptier than it needed to be.

"I know it's not much, but it's home," Emily said, noticing him looking around.

He blushed slightly. "I-I think it's v-very nice…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "So, what did you want to show me…?"

At that moment, a familiar, high-pitched yipping came from the bedroom, and a small skeletal dog came bounding out of the darkness, wearing a familiar red collar. The dog's barking became louder and more enthusiastic when it saw its master.

"Scraps!" Victor cried out in joy, kneeling down and petting the dog's tiny skull. "Who's a good boy?"

The dog yipped as he ran circles around him, responding to such commands as "sit", "roll over" and "shake" (although he still refused to "play dead").

Emily giggled, a gloved hand pressed to her mouth, as she watched the man she used to love reunited with his best friend. "After I came back to the Land of the Dead after our… wedding…" An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and she pressed on, eager to change the subject. "After I came back, I found Scraps sitting outside the Ball and Socket bar, waiting for you, no doubt."

"That sounds like him, alright," Victor smiled.

"So I took him in. I wanted to make sure he had an owner – until you arrived here, at least."

The man's smiled faded. "Yes… I guess none of us were expecting me to get here so soon."

The young woman looked on sympathetically. "Well, you're here now, and I hope that Scraps can at least make this place feel more like home to you." When Victor did not answer, the failed bride frowned. "You know, death isn't the end of the world. It happens to us all."

"I know, and I feel incredibly selfish thinking this, but… I barely lived, you know? I was only married for a year, and now I won't even get to meet my own child."

Emily did not realise she was crying until she felt the tears falling down her face. "At least you had the chance to experience something…" she murmured. She was angry – at life, for handing her such a cruel fate. At Victor, for lamenting loss to her, when she had not had the chance to experience what he had.

But most of all, she was angry at herself. That night at the chapel, when she had given up her love, she thought she had gotten past such trivial matters, and was ready to move on. But listening to him lament on his life and joys stirred up feelings within her that she was having trouble comprehending.

Perhaps she still deserved to be bound to the Land of the Dead.

Victor was taken aback when he looked up and saw her tears. "Oh, E-Emily, I'm so sorry!" he stammered, scrambling to his feet. "I-I didn't mean – "

"At least you got to experience marriage, and the joy of building a life with someone you love!" she continued, her voice growing steadily growing louder. "You've left a legacy in the world, Victor, and it lives on through Victoria, and the child she will bear." The young woman jabbed a thumb at herself bitterly. "What have I left behind? Nothing but a memory of foolishness and recklessness, and a father who does not know how sorry I am!"

In the wake of her shouting, the silence that filled the room was as thick and heavy as mud. Victor stood there awkwardly as Emily dabbed at her wet, swollen eyes.

"Emily, I…"

"I think you should go," she said sharply.

"But – "

"Please… I need some time. Just leave me be."

The pale woman swept her tattered wedding dress behind her and disappeared into the bedroom, the door clicking closed behind her. Victor stood there in the middle of the dim room, unsure of what to do. Scraps whined uncertainly.

"Come on, boy," he said, turning. "Let's go."

For the second time in two nights, Victor found himself wandering aimlessly through the streets of the Land of the Dead, although, this time, he was trailed by the skeletal figure of his faithful dog. Why, oh why, had he been so stupid? Emily had been nothing but kind and caring since their reunion, and what had he done for her in return?

The troubled young man found himself trudging through a narrow alleyway lined with old wooden coffins. He sat down absently on the edge of one, gazing up through the twisting spires above him and into the dark sky.

Emily.

His best friend.

She truly was one of a kind. An amazing and talented woman. An all-round good and loving person, no matter how much trouble those qualities kept getting her into. Any man would have been lucky to have her.

But you already did, and yet you turned her down and broke her heart, a voice in the back of his mind said, only adding to his guilt.

"Oh, Scraps," he said softly. "Whatever am I to do?"

The dog whined softly, having no answer to give.