Warnings: Slash (Colt Cabana/CM Punk), Fluff, Smut, Death, AU - linked to chapter 1, and 11.
Punk glances at the clock, and straightens his shirt. His next client should be here any minute. A middle-aged Jewish woman who wants to talk to her mother. He's been working as a medium for just over a year now, but he's still nervous when meeting a new client. He's never sure what they'll make of him. He knows he doesn't quite fit the image of a medium most people have. He knows with his bleached hair, tattoos, and overall scruffy appearance, he's not what people are looking for, but he's good at his job. Crossing over, slipping through the cracks in the wall between the worlds has never been too difficult for him. He's always had a talent for it, and with training that talent became a honed skill.
When she arrives, the woman looks, as Punk had expected, unimpressed with him. She enters into his little apartment, looking around.
"I brought my son, he's parking the car. I hope that won't be a problem." She smiles, and Punk shakes his head, taking the woman's coat, and hanging it up. "This is such a... Well, it's not quite the neighbourhood I'm used to." She laughs.
"The rent's cheap." Punk offers, getting a laugh from the woman. "So... How recently did your mother die?" The question is blunt, but that's just the way Punk is. He's not one to mince words.
"About a year now... I mostly want to tell her all the exciting news... She always wanted the boys to do well... Scotty's in college now, Gregg's got a nice little job... I just-"
"Wanna gossip, Mom. I got it." A man comes into Punk's apartment, and shuts the door. "So you met your psychic yet, or are we waiting here for dramatic effect?"
"I'm a medium, not a psychic, but close enough, I guess. I'm Punk." Punk offers his hand to the man. "So I'm going to guess you're Scotty." Punk smirks, and the man looks slightly embarrassed.
"It's Scott actually, but Colt is fine." He shakes Punk's hand, then finds the carpet incredibly interesting, not really looking up from it all the way into Punk's living room.
"Take a seat." Punk gestures to the cushions on the floor by the table, and wanders to his kitchen to grab the pot of coffee he's got waiting there. When he comes back, the son, Colt, is talking to his mother in low hushed tones about how he's sure that Punk is a fraud, and that his mother is being fleeced. Punk clears his throat as he comes closer, making Colt fall silent. Punk pours three cups of coffee, then grabs the thick sweater that he'd tossed on the couch earlier, pulling it on.
"Thank you, dear." The woman takes one of the coffee cups, her eyes downcast to the murky liquid, but Colt is watching Punk's every move intently, clearly looking for any sign of tricks.
"So... Is this the part where you ask all the questions so you can get to know my grandmother?" Colt asks, and Punk bites back a sigh. He's clearly been doing research into fakes, and there's a prideful part of Punk that wants to prove him wrong. Usually he would ask a few questions, simply to make finding the right spirit easier, but not this time. This time he's going to find the dead old lady, and get her to give her little shit of a grandson a talking to.
"Nah, wait here." Punk smirks, and closes his eyes. How exactly he gets into the Land of the Dead isn't something he can fully explain to people who can't do it. It's almost like falling asleep, but different. There are parts of the wall with gaps, spaces for things to pass between, and only some people, or some things, can find them. The first place he always sees is a vast, barren, desert. Flat, with very occasional spirits looking lost, or confused. It's never particularly populated, so Punk rarely dwells there long. He thinks he has an idea of where the spirit he's looking for will be, so he keeps walking. The desert merges with a thick forest, the trees dense, and dark. This part of the Land of the Dead is more populated, several mournful spirits wail on fallen trees, most not noticing Punk, one or two trying to catch his eye, but failing. He's quite confident that the old lady spirit he's looking for isn't here either. He's sure she'll be in the glade. A beautiful, little refuge nestled in the dark woods, just before the hills. Unlike most of the other places Punk's visited in the Land of the Dead, the glade is almost warm, and there's a pool of water. It'd be a lovely place, if it wasn't so quiet. It looks like there should be the sounds of insects, and birds there, but it's completely silent. Sitting by the pool is an old lady. She looks up when Punk approaches her, a smile on her face.
"You're looking for me?" She asks, and Punk nods, taking her hands. "I have been wondering what those little monkey grandchildren of mine have been up to."
"Okay." He tells her, then he lets her use his physical body to talk to her daughter, and grandson.
"Thank you, dear." When Punk opens his eyes, the old female spirit is standing before him. "I think I'll move on now... I've been wondering what's over those hills..." She starts wandering off, and Punk takes a breath before willing himself to wake up.
"Here." He wakes up to the feeling of a blanket being draped over his shoulders, and the sight of his client dabbing at her eyes. Colt sits down beside her, and pulls her into a one-armed hug. His eyes still focussed on Punk. "Mom... You go wait in the car, I'll pay him." The woman nods, then stands offering Punk a grateful smile, and a quiet thank you. Punk stares back at Colt, wondering what line of questioning is going to come his way, and if he'll be able to get warm enough to deal with it. Colt doesn't say anything for a long time. He just sits staring at Punk like he had two heads. Eventually Punk can feel the warmth of the living seeping back into him.
"What?" Punk feels increasingly uncomfortable under Colt's heavy gaze. He's not used to being stared at for quite so long.
"I'm trying to work how you faked it, but I can't... My grandma's voice was coming out of your mouth... The stuff she'd say to me was coming out of your mouth, in her voice, and there's no way you could have faked that... I mean there are ways, but they're not going to be covered by the amount of money my Mom's paying you." Colt's still staring at him and Punk feels desperately exposed, and vulnerable, but strangely content to be under that stare.
"So, that must mean I'm not a fake." Punk smiles, and downs his now cold coffee. He stands, and wobbles. Colt's on his feet, and grabbing Punk's arm to steady him before Punk can even think about doing it himself.
"How?" He asks, and Punk sighs, expecting the question, but not having an easy answer to offer. "I've tried to talk to her a thousand times, and nothing... Two minutes, and you have her here, chatting like nothing ever happened." Colt's wrapped his arm around Punk's waist, holding him upright. "Where we going?"
"Kitchen, I need coffee. I found her, because I can." Punk lets Colt hold him upright, trying to ignore how nice it is feel the warmth of a handsome, young man, rather than the warmth of three sweaters, and a comforter.
"That's not exactly an answer." Colt huffs, and Punk laughs at him.
"It's a thing I can do. I can't... I mean I could try and teach you, but it's not something everyone has the talent for." Punk offers, as he slips from Colt's side, and starts making another pot of coffee.
"Alright, I'll swing by tomorrow, you can start teaching me then." Colt grins, and sets his mother's payment down on the counter, leaving Punk alone.
After that first meeting, Colt had been true to his word. He'd shown up the next day, and had pumped Punk for answers between clients. He'd brought Punk coffee, and cookies, then wrapped in the blanket as soon as he'd leave the Land of the Dead. In one day he'd shown Punk the value of having an assistant. Then he'd had to go back to school. They'd stayed in touch, Colt growing more, and more interested in Punk's work, and less and less in his studies. Punk grew more and more interested in Colt. Whilst Punk didn't think business marketing sounded too interesting, he'd realised how useful it could be to him, especially when Colt had shown him the random ideas he'd had for helping Punk's business. Punk started to make plans, he wanted Colt's help in business, and him around Punk in general. So, when Colt had graduated, and started humming and ha'ing over what he was going to do with his life, Punk had made him an offer of being his business partner. Colt had accepted without a moment's hesitation. Together they didn't make too much money, but they did spend more time with each other.
Their friendship changed. It was all slow, and subtle at first. Punk snuggling up to Colt on the couch whilst watching TV, claiming to be cold. Colt bringing Punk more elaborate, and delicious coffees to warm him up after leaving the Land of the Dead. The real moment Punk realised that he was actually in love with his friend had been at once mundane, and spectacular. Colt had been folding the blanket on the couch, a different one to the first blanket Punk had had, one Punk didn't recognise, a blanket made of patches. Patches he'd later found out had been taken from old clothes Punk had discarded as not being warm enough, or blankets tossed aside for the same reason, all of these too thin, ineffective materials had been taken, stitched together, by Colt himself, and were now what brought the warm of the Living back to Punk. Without thinking about it, Punk had blurted out I love you, and Colt had nodded absently, and returned the sentiment. Hardly the most romantic of moments, but Punk learned very quickly, that Colt isn't exactly the romantic type. He's many things, but romantic isn't one of them.
Years passed, Punk became more skilled, more well-known, and well-paid. He worked for all manner of overly rich people, talking with the dead relatives of kings, queens, and presidents. Colt had made a good case for moving into a nicer, larger apartment, which had led to Punk arguing that they could afford a trainee. Colt had reluctantly agreed, his reluctance coming as a surprise to Punk. In what had been an incredibly uncomfortable screaming match between them, Colt had revealed that he was worried Punk would be seduced by someone else with his talents. The idea that Colt was worried about that had surprised Punk, and he'd carefully, and more calmly asked why, getting an answer that had made him laugh. Punk didn't want someone like himself. There was no way he'd ever consider dating a medium for the simple reason that other mediums would likely be in competition with Punk, which wouldn't be healthy for a relationship. The other reason Punk wouldn't run off with another medium was shorter, and simpler. The main reason he's not going to leave Colt, is that he loves him. He adores Colt more than words can say. He loves the little things he does, loves the way he looks so perplexed by the accounts, the way he tidied up between sessions, the way he's always there when Punk wakes up from the Land of the Dead, blanket and coffee in hand. It'd taken Punk a little time to convince Colt of that, but once he had, he'd started evaluating apprentices. Several were rejected outright as being bad fits, others were trialled, but didn't work out. It took almost a year for Seth to show up. A young man with bright eyes, and a keen mind. He was capable of crossing over, but not confident in it. He'd never ventured further than the very edges of the desert. Colt had liked him, Punk had liked him, and so Seth had moved in.
One Christmas, when Seth had been there for maybe all of two months, Punk is slowly coming to after a walk in the Land of the Dead. He's been working on Colt's Christmas present for almost a year now, and he's finally ready to give it to him. Taking things back from the Land of the Dead should be impossible, but Punk's managed it. Clutched in his hand is two simple, plain necklaces, each set with a stone. In the Land of the Dead the stones shine brightly, but a quick glimpse at them before Punk slips them into his pants pocket confirms they're rather plain in the Land of the Living.
"Hey, Punkers?" Punk looks up at Colt from his spot on the floor, he feels terrible, freezing cold, and weak, but he'd expected that. "Are there any dogs in the Land of the Dead?" Punk looks at him blankly for a moment, and starts laughing. Seth glances over at them from his desk, a slight smile on his face.
"None that I've seen." Punk reaches a hand out to Colt, groans when he's hefted off the floor. "Seth?"
"Uh-huh?" Seth's gaze focuses on Punk, his glasses slipping down his nose. "It's Christmas... Have a break." Seth nods, a slight blush coming over his cheeks. Punk snuggles up to Colt's side, his warmth seeping into Punk's cold body.
"Are you sure? I mean... I, uh... I'll go have dinner out, meet up with some friends... Let you two have some time alone." He gathers his things, and quickly scurries off to his room. Colt bursts out laughing, and Punk taps him on the chest.
"Be nice. He's a good boy." Punk starts off upstairs, heading for the bedroom he shares with Colt. "I wanna give you your Christmas present." Punk turns to him with a grin, but before Punk can actually do anything, Colt pulls him into a kiss. He pushes them through the slightly ajar door, and then walks Punk back towards the bed.
"I'm not in a hurry for getting presents. I'd much rather give, than receive" Colt grins, and starts pulling his clothes off. "You're wearing too many clothes for your present."
"Colt, did you actually get me a present, cause your cock isn't exactly anything special." Punk laughs, and getting an eye-roll in return.
"Yes, I got you a present... You know, technically I should get eight present." He smirks, and gets on the bed, pushing Punk to his back.
"I'll get you eight presents when you light some candles." Punk wriggles out of his clothes, and pulls Colt down into a kiss.
"Hmm... Fair enough." Colt grabs the lube from the night-stand, and coats two of his fingers, sliding one into Punk's ass.
"You're no fun... You never argue with me properly." Punk mutters, his eyes falling closed as Colt adds a second finger.
"I'm not arguing with you on Christmas. It's like against the law or something." Colt mutters, pressing a kiss over Punk's heart. "I don't like arguing with you... I always lose."
"That's cause I'm always right." Punk grins, moaning when Colt starts stroking his cock. "You gonna actually fuck me, or is this it?" Punk bucks his hips, forcing Colt's fingers to press against his prostate.
"Impatient." Colt mutters, and pulls his fingers out, then coats his cock in lube. "Impatient, argumentative, and bratty though you are, I do love you." He mutters, easing his cock into Punk's ass.
"You love my terrible qualities the most." Punk wraps his arms around Colt's neck, and pulls him into a kiss, rocking his hips slightly. "You wanna know what I got you for Christmas?"
"Can we not play guessing games when we're having sex?" Colt pulls back a little, then eases back into Punk's ass. He starts kissing Punk's neck, his hands slipping under Punk's shoulder blades to hold him closer. Punk wraps his legs around Colt's waist, pulling himself into each thrust, his fingers sliding into Colt's hair.
"I got you me." Punk mutters, his back arching, his head falling to one side to let Colt nip at his throat.
"I already have you... I've had you for years." Colt rolls to his back, dragging Punk with him. Punk rearranges himself so he's straddling Colt's thighs. "Not that I'm complaining... I love having you."
"No..." Punk starts moving slowly, enjoying the slow slide of Colt's cock in his body. Colt's hands run up his sides gently, though firm enough to not be ticklish. "I'm giving you me."
"We're getting married?" Colt asks, his thumb brushing over Punk's bottom lip, flicking the ring there. Punk nips at his finger, and then suckles it into his mouth. He laps at the digit for a moment, then releases it. Colt trails his hands back down, brushing over Punk's nipples, before settling on his waist, helping Punk in his slow movements.
"If you want... But this is something more." Punk smiles, and stoops down to kiss Colt. He whispers words, soft, strange foreign words, that seem to flow from his lips like smoke. Punk hadn't found out what exactly would happen when the words were spoken, and really it feels like nothing has, but he feels better for having started.
"I'm sorry... What was that?" Colt asks bemused, and slips his hand between them to take a hold of Punk's cock. "I don't speak whatever language that was."
"You barely speak English." Punk laughs, rocking his hips a little faster. Colt chuckles at him, and speeds his hand up. "It's a spell... I've been researching it for a while now."
"Spell?" Colt laughs, and lets go of Punk's cock to cradle his face. "You're a wizard now? Am I gonna have to start calling you Harry?"
"Did you watch Harry Potter with Seth?" Punk can't imagine any other way for Colt to have Harry Potter references in his vocabulary other than the apprentice's love of it.
"Maybe... So, spell?" Colt changes the subject awkwardly, and Punk laughs softly, his hips still moving slowly.
"Hmm, yeah. A spell... I said I was giving you me, and I was serious... Though to be fair, I'm kind of taking you too." Punk smiles, awkwardly, and lifts himself off of Colt's cock. He gets off the bed, and grabs the necklaces from his pants' pocket. He tosses the slightly red one to Colt, and gets back on the bed. "Put it on."
"What's this?" Colt does as he's asked, and fingers the stone, looking at Punk in confusion. Punk flops onto his side, and throws a leg over Colt's hips, angling himself so Colt can slide his cock back into Punk's ass. He presses his forehead against Punk's, and pulls him in closer. "It feels warm... This is gonna sound insane, but this stone feels like you." Punk grins at Colt's words, and slips the slightly blue stone around his own neck.
"It should." Punk kisses Colt, then whispers the second part of the spell against Colt's lips. "It's half my soul." Colt stares at him, then pulls the stone up to look at.
"This isn't your soul... Your soul is beautiful. This is-"
"It's prettier on the other side." Punk smiles, and pulls the blue stone up. He presses the stones together, and the two little stones seem to glow with a soft purple light. "But they're most beautiful when they're together."
"That's half of my soul, isn't it?" Colt asks, awe heavy in his tone. Punk nods, and Colt pulls him into a kiss, moving his hips, driving his cock into Punk faster.
"Yes." Punk hisses, his hand between them, and starts chasing his orgasm. "I wanna-"
"Do it." Colt says firmly, thrusting into Punk. "Whatever it is, do it. I love you, I trust you, and I won't be without you." Colt rolls them over so Punk's on his back, and starts fucking into Punk faster.
"Good." Punk moans, his hand matching pace with Colt's thrusts. Colt nods distractedly, his thrusts increasingly erratic. Punk somehow manages to finish the spell before he comes. The moment the last word is uttered, Punk feels his orgasm come over him, far more powerful than any he's ever felt before. Colt collapses on top of him, his weight solid, and familiar. Punk strokes his hand down Colt's back absently, a perfect feeling of contentment filling him. "I love you too, so much, Colt... I... Nothing is gonna take you away from me. I see so many people broken apart by death, and I won't... We're together, bonded together far more than any ring, or paper could ever make us." Colt makes a lazy agreeing noise, and pulls out of Punk. He grabs some tissues from the night-stand, and starts making a half-assed attempt at cleaning Punk up. "Leave it... I'll shower after I have a nap." Punk grabs the tissues, and tosses them in the general direction of the garbage. "So what did you get me?" Punk yawns and snuggles up to Colt.
"Hmm? Oh! Your Christmas present?" Colt presses a kiss to the top of Punk's head, and laughs softly. "Compared to half of your soul, it's pretty shitty, but I bought you one of those chairs you're always trying out in the furniture store... You know the reclining ones..." Punk laughs, and presses a kiss to Colt's lips.
"You're trying to stop me from lying on the floor, aren't you?" Colt doesn't give Punk a verbal answer to his question, he instead hugs Punk tighter, and kisses his hair once more.
The next day it's business as usual, though Punk has no clients to see. He's instead researching more on the bonding he performed last night, and dipping in and out of the Land of the Dead, trying to make sure he's not messed up his talent with it. It seems easier than before, almost as though he's got an anchor now, and the cold doesn't affect him nearly as much. It feels like he's got Colt's warmth pressed against his back the whole time he's in. At around midday, Colt announces that he's going to the store, asking if there's anything anyone needs, but getting only vague distracted answers from both Punk, and Seth. Colt had been gone for all of two hours when Punk felt a strange pain in his chest. A horrible burning sensation that made his heart race, and his breathing speed up. Seth looks over at him, his eyebrows raised.
"What is it?" He asked, coming over to where Punk was sprawled over the floor reading. "Are you okay?" Punk shakes his head. He's definitely not okay, but he doesn't know why. "Should I call nine-one-one?" Seth pulls his cell from his pocket, almost at the same time as Punk's rings. A call asking him to go to a hospital. "I'll take you." Seth offers, but Punk forces himself to his feet, and starts pulling his coat on, ignoring the pain in his chest. "Punk! Let me help!"
"I'll take a cab... You stay here, hold the fort." Punk mutters, and braves the cold.
Punk stumbles into his apartment, and collapses onto the couch. He sits there rigidly, staring at nothing. His mind isn't working right. It doesn't seem able to process anything, caught in a perpetual loop of what just happened. The machine checking his heart-rate stopped beeping. The machine that was forcing air into his lungs was switched off. I.V.s were removed. He was dead.
"Hey... What happened?" Seth appears before Punk. He looks as scared as Punk feels. Dead. Colt is dead. Punk is all alone for the first time since he met Colt, he no longer has him. The stone around his neck is deathly cold, and Punk wants nothing more than to join his lover in the Land of the Dead.
"He..." Punk shakes his head, and stands. His limbs rebel at the motion, and he crumples into Seth's waiting arms, where he starts wailing like a child. Seth holds him up, but doesn't say anything. If it's because he knows there's nothing worth saying, or that he has no idea what to say, Punk doesn't care. The only thing that matters is gone.
"Lets get you to bed." Seth helps him up the stairs, but doesn't seem to realise that's only going to make things worse. The room is full of Colt's clothes. The bed smells like him. His glasses are in the case on the night-stand. His cellphone charger is still plugged in, because he always forgot to unplug it. Seth guides Punk to the bed, and hovers nervously near it. "Is there... Can I do anything?" He asks, and Punk shakes his head, withering onto it. "I... I'll be here if you need me, Punk." Seth hovers by the door way for a moment, and then shuts it behind him. Punk lies on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling nothing. He's never felt this profoundly empty before. Colt is gone. The other half of his soul is quite literally gone. The little stone on the chain around his neck is dull, and freezing, the warmth it had once held is gone. There's nothing left in the Land of the Living for him, Punk wants to go to where the other half of his soul is. Death is infinitely preferable to living in a world without Colt.
Once Seth goes to bed, Punk slips down stairs once more. He stands staring in the bathroom mirror for a long time, and he reaches a conclusion. There's nothing left for him here. He should leave. He grabs the switch razor, and slips it into his pocket. Moving on autopilot, he fills a basin from the kitchen, and carries it to the chair Colt had bought him for Christmas, and sets it on the table beside it. He wonders if he should write Seth a letter. It might be rude to not, but he can't bring himself to commit any of this to paper. He needs to get this over with. He pulls out the razor, and sits heavily. He briefly runs his fingers through the water, and then raises the little stone to his lips.
"Wait for me." He whispers, and slashes the length of his vein. He places his arm in the water, and waits.
The cold of the Land of the Dead is familiar, but where he is isn't. He's used to vast open plains, or dense woods. He appears to be standing in a city. A city made of a mishmash of architecture. There's a gathering of hooded figures in the middle of a square, and it seems like that's where Punk should be. He starts walking, happening to glance down at the stone around his neck. It's once more shining brightly with a soft purple light, and he sighs in relief, at least Colt is here somewhere, at least they're together again.
"This has literally never happened before." One of the hooded figures snapping in annoyance is the first thing Punk hears once he's close enough.
"I know that." Another sounds more exasperated than annoyed, and Punk comes closer.
"It's certainly a first. What say you... Spirit?" This figure sounds confused, and Punk brushes past the outer figures easily.
"Punkers!" Punk spots Colt as soon as he enters the ring of hooded figures. He's standing there dressed as he had been when he'd left the apartment, a harried look on his face. He rushes over to Punk, and tries to pull him into a hug, but his arms pass through Punk's body. "What the fuck?" He asks, and Punk shakes his head, staring at Colt, utterly unable to talk.
"What's going on now!" One of the hooded figures exclaims, throwing their hands up in the air. "Is it open season on weird shit happening? What in the name of the Void are you Mortals up to?" Punk ignores the figure in favour of continuing to stare dumbly at Colt.
"I found you." Punk whispers softly, and he reaches for Colt, but as when Colt tried to touch him, Punk's fingers pass through him. "Why can't I? I should be dead too." Punk whispers, and crumples to his knees. Colt follows him down, his hands hovering nervously over him.
"You bound us together." Colt whispers softly. "My soul to your's... My soul died, but your's was still alive."
"No... Colt, you don't understand... I..." Punk looks away, and then back up at Colt. "I..."
"Well, I hate to break it to you, but killing yourself clearly didn't work." One of the hooded figures snaps, and Colt springs to his feet, clearly ready to defend Punk's honour.
"Colt, wait." Punk forces himself up, and reaches for Colt, his hand once more passing through him.
"Punk... Did you commit suicide?" Colt speaks calmly, but Punk can see the tension in his shoulders.
"He tried." The hooded figures part, and a new one enters the circle. Their robe is far more elaborate than the others, with intricate black embroidery on the thick velvet. "He failed however... and I want to know why." Colt spares Punk a quick, slightly annoyed glance, then returns to staring at the new hooded figure. "Follow me." It starts walking back towards the large skyscraper it had come out of, clearly expecting to be followed.
"We're talking about this later." Colt mutters to Punk as he starts walking after the figure. Punk trails along behind them, not entirely certain what's going on, but slowly beginning to realise what has happened at least.
Inside the skyscraper there's nothing but gleaming white, and a hooded figure behind a desk. They follow the figure in elaborate robes into an elevator. It presses a button, but there are no numbers on any of them, so Punk has no idea where it's going. Colt keeps shooting him furtive glances, his expression unreadable. The elevator chimes when it reaches the right floor, and the hooded figure waves an arm, indicating they should get out.
"What did you do, Mortal?" A voice booms from the figure seated behind the desk. Their robes are thick velvet, and deep plum. The figures stands, peeling back their hood too revel a grey haired old man. He points to the stone around Punk's neck, his eyes narrowed. "That... You've done something either very foolish, or very smart." The man takes his seat once more, his expression calm, and calculating.
"Why either or?" Punk asks, stepping further into the large office. "I bound our souls together... I see it as foolishly smart." A cocky grin spreads over Punk's lips, and the man stares at him thoughtfully.
"You didn't just bind your souls." The man laughs, and Punk moves a little closer to Colt, who's standing watching the exchange quietly.
"He combined them, didn't he?" Colt's voice is quiet, and the old man laughs loudly. "That's why I wasn't processed, you can't... Half of my soul is still alive, and he didn't die because half of his soul is already here..." Punk turns to him, and Colt sighs dramatically. "We're both stuck until they fix it."
"They can't." Punk laughs suddenly, turning to the old man. "You've no idea what to do, do you?" The old man glares at Punk, but all Punk does is laugh once more.
"Resurrectionist, you will fix this problem." The old man snarls, and this time Colt laughs at him.
"What we share a title?" He asks, a grin on his face.
"You have one soul, you get one title." The old man sounds more than a little annoyed, and Colt glances over at Punk offering him a slight smile. "You will fix this, and restore the natural order."
"If we don't? What happens then?" Punk would like nothing more than to take Colt's hand, but it seems in the Land of the Dead, he's nothing more than a ghost.
"This. What you have now for all eternity. Your soul is trapped, Resurrectionist. Half living, half dead... You're in limbo, perverting the natural order... I suggest you pick a side. Are you alive, or dead, because you cannot be both." The old man pulls his hood up once more, and laces his fingers.
"But we are." Colt mutters, and sighs. "We'll need somewhere to work."
"Your living half will need to return soon. The longer it's here... Well, we don't know what'll happen, but we imagine it won't be good." The old man gestures at Punk. "As for a work space... The City is very suggestible... Think it, and it'll appear."
"We'll get out of your hair." Punk desperately wants to tug on Colt's sleeve, but he has the feeling that wouldn't work too well.
"I've always wanted a secret lab." Colt mutters once they leave the skyscraper. The square is deserted, not a single trace of the hooded figures.
"Secret lab?" Punk asks quietly, his gaze casting around the square. His attention is caught by a strange looking entrance with a sign above it reading Resurrectionist's Lab. "I guess this is the way to your secret lab then." Punk laughs, and reaches to catch Colt's hand, wincing when his own passes through it.
"That's the first problem we're working on." Colt mutters, walking towards the entrance. "I'm not spending eternity not being able to touch you."
Many thanks, and festive cheer to those who reviewed:
Kat, Debwood-1999, and VKxXx92 .
Lastly we have Last Christmas as requested by alizabethianrose.
Christmas is upon us! Give the gift of a review! (it's free and everything)