AN: Even I didn't see that one coming.
The Puppeteer Patient 120402-WE'RE GONNA DIE. Think I can pin everything on him and get away with it?
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-Uh, she looks pretty real to me.
No. No, that wasn't possible, she couldn't be here.
What do we do?
If it were me, I'd get down on my knees and start swearing up and down that the Devil made me do it. Do you know any exorcisms?
She looked exactly the same as he remembered her-wrinkled and ancient, yet somehow much more frightening than anything he could have dreamt up on his own.
They looked at each other for a minute before Kitty pulled on his sleeve again.
"Who is that?"
"That's Granny."
She looked from him to her and back again.
"That's your grandmother?"
"Yes."
"The one you…erm…"
"Yes."
Granny started down the stairs. Her limp was more pronounced than he remembered, but she wasn't moving nearly slow enough for his liking.
"Jonathan…"
RUN.
He turned and bolted, dragging her along behind him. They'd barely turned a corner when she was there, staring at them with sunken eyes.
"G-Granny…"
She raised her hand and he stepped back.
It's not real, it can't be real, she's dead…
Dead or not, she was planted firmly between them and the door and he had no intention of proving her non-existence by walking through her. Or, for that matter, getting too closer to her at all.
"What do we do?"
"I don't know."
We die.
Thanks for your ever-present support, Scarecrow.
Bum-rush her.
NO.
He had a gun-toxin was all very well, but it drew attention-but did guns work on ghosts?
Time to find out. For science!
"Good bye, Granny."
He fired.
And watched in horror as the bullet went straight through her and embedded itself in the wall.
"Um, Jonathan?"
"That was better in my head."
Granny frowned and raised an eyebrow. That had never boded well. Even after these years, he remembered that.
She moved forward and he yanked Kitty into an open room and slammed the door.
Dude, a bullet went through her. She'll just walk through.
Shut up shut up!
"What now?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe she can't hurt you."
"Oh, I think she can." Was there another way out? Of course not, he'd pulled them into the dining room.
She coughed and leaned against him. Granny hadn't come in yet. That meant nothing, but still.
"Jonathan Crane!"
Never mind.
Why hadn't she come in yet? Surely she'd seen them go in here…unless she was just waiting them out. She didn't have to do anything anymore, she could stand by the door as long as she wanted.
"Jonathan?"
"I don't know, I don't know."
The windows just had to be those old gothic-style ones, impossible to climb out of. And there was no other entrance-the servants' entrance had long ago been sealed after a candle had tipped over and sent flames halfway up the doorframe. (That had not been his fault, but he'd been punished for it all the same.)
"I suppose you can't claim it was all an accident?"
"I don't think she'll buy it."
The doors flew open and she limped in, eyes flashing. Had she always been this tall?
"You." He took a step back. "You did this."
"Granny…"
"Ungrateful brat!"
"Please…"
"I took you in and this is how you repay me?"
Kitty started coughing again, and this time she couldn't stop and ended up slumped against his knees, managing little more than desperate wheezes for breath.
"Come here, Jonathan."
"No." His voice was quiet, but she heard him all the same. Deafness had not been included in her symptoms of old age, unfortunately.
"Don't make me come and get you."
"You're dead. You can't do anything."
She looked at him with that horribly passive look she'd always gotten when he was about to wish for death.
"Oh, no?"
She raised her arms.
Outside, he heard the cawing of crows.