Chapter 28

Breakfast preparation was going by much, much smoother than fixing dinner had. In fact, only one person interrupted Dustin the whole time he was trying to cook. Gus was not much of a bother, anyway. He just ran around the kitchen chanting, "PANCAKES! PANCAKES! PANCAKES!" until a bewildered Dustin agreed to let him lick the bowl. When it came to ghosts eating, Dustin handled it the same why he handled Asher's drinking: He kept his mouth shut and ignored it as much as humanly--or ghostly, he still was not quite sure of the terminology--possible.

Knowing that a scrumptious breakfast of pancakes was waiting for her, Destiny entered the kitchen. Dressed in a close-fitting purple turtleneck and black slacks, she was oddly bright-eyed. It made Dustin feel good to see her so well rested. A full plate and a glass of milk was waiting for Destiny at the small kitchen table. She wondered why the table was there. In old houses like Gracey Manor, she knew the kitchens were centers of bustling activity as cooks and various servants rushed about, preparing meals and bringing in and taking out plates. Despite the grand dining room, perhaps George preferred to have cozy, intimate meals with Lily in the kitchen, a place where the two could have been close; whereas the dining room, although romantic, had so much space that intimacy could easily be lost simply in the spaces between the chairs.

"Did you have a pleasant night?" asked Dustin after Destiny had taken a few bites of her breakfast.

Nodding, she took a gulp of milk. "Very," she answered with a smile. "It was the first time in years that I didn't have nightmares."

"What are they usually about?" the ghost asked, sliding into a seat beside the mortal.

She chewed thoughtfully for a minute. Furrowing her brow, she began slowly. "I'm at my grandparent's house and the fire starts. It's just like when I was ten, but I'm not ten. I'm thirty. I look out the window and see ten year old me waving at thirty year old me." Quickly, she added, "Which is weird, I know, but it's a dream, so it makes sense.

"Dad runs into the house, and somehow I know my grandparents are dead, so I tell him to get out. He won't listen." Sadly and fondly at the same time, she added quietly, "He was always so stubborn." She cleared her throat. "Grabbing his arm, I pull him to the front door..."

"And then?" breathed Dustin. He didn't notice he was leaning forward in his eagerness to catch every word.

"And then," she frowned. "And then the roof collapses and we die." Now silent, she picked at a pancake.

Dustin asked softly, "So that's how your father died?"

Solemn, she nodded. "Yeah."

"Hmm. Seems like you carry a lot of guilt," he said casually.

"That's how you interpret it, huh?" Destiny quirked an eyebrow with a little smirk. She sighed. "You're right. Let me guess: 'Don't, Destiny, it wasn't your fault'."

Dustin blinked, surprised by the sudden cynicism. "Actually, I was just going to say that I know how you feel, and after nearly a century, I have no idea how to get rid of that feeling. Neither of us should carry it, but..."

"It's wicked tough to get rid of." She smiled and looked up at him. "I think it takes a lot of strength to carry the guilt we do. When I was little, I had a couselor tell me to stop worrying and to get over it. People just don't seem to realize it's not that easy. If it was, we'd all be holding hands and skipping through a meadow with flowers in our hair."

Dustin laughed. "And my brother would never have had a job." Destiny laughed too. The ghost smiled his sweet little smile that made the weird, little squirmy feeling in her stomach that was beginning to worry her. He picked up her plate and placed it in the sink, giving her a moment to shake her head and clear away the feelings. As he took a step back to the table, he stared at the top of her head. He kept his eye there the whole time he was sitting down, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" Destiny felt the top of her head.

"You've got a bit of blond on you," he finally said. He pointed.

"Oh?" She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled a strawberry blond strand out of her brown locks. "Ewww!" Cringing, she dangled the follicle at arms length and walked over to a trashcan and dropped it in. "Ah, gross! I couldn't find my brush, so I had to use one I found in a drawer. No offense, but using dead people's stuff is disgusting." Shuddering, she sat back down.

Chuckling, Dustin chirped, "None taken."

"Thanks for breakfast--again. And dinner."

"Not a problem at all, Destiny."

There was a pause, a thick silence. Suddenly, Destiny realized their faces had moved closer together, just like during the buggy ride. The jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. Ignore it, she thought.Quickly, she blurted out, "I have to go to work." With a look on her face that suggested that it was as unexpected to her as it was to Dustin, she kissed his cheek. Lips cold, she grabbed her purse and coat, and dashed out. When Dustin heard the door shut, he gently touched the spot her lips had brushed against. For several seconds after, it still felt warm.


"What," Destiny demanded herself as she unlocked her car door, "is your damage? Oh, using something that belonged to a dead person is nasty, but kissing one is fine," she muttered in a mocking tone. After getting in, she slammed the door and jammed the key in the ignition. She turned on the heat. Her lips were still cold. She stared out the windshield at the mansion. Last night, there had been a light snowfall. The old house looked beautiful with patches of white on it, as did the graves and leafless trees. It shouldn't, she thought. Barren plants, graves, and haunted houses are not supposed to be comforting. They're supposed to creep you out and make you think about how scary death is.

Gripping the steering wheel, she exhaled slowly to calm herself down. What was she so nervous about anyway? Was it that odd emotion that washed over her every time she saw Dustin? Oh my God... Could it really be? No, no, no! Was she in-- "NO! I'm not, because that would be wrong on so many levels! I'm just nervous about work, that's all. As soon as I'm in front of the computer again, looking over my numbers and my diagrams, everything will be fine."

Squeerk!

There was a sound, like someone taking a rubber squeegee to the window. Destiny turned to see three bluish-green round cheeks and three big eyes against the car window. She glared. Ezra, Gus, and Phineas had the sides of their faces plastered against the glass, looking like bizarre flounders. Her finger pushed down on the button as hard as she could, she rolled down the automatic window. Ectoplasmic drool went down with it.

"What do you want?" she asked the three men.

Phineas and Ezra clutched their hats in their hands, trying their best to look pitiful. Gus twirled the end of his beard. "We want kisses, too!" they cried at once. Ezra turned and glared at Phineas. "You have a girlfriend! Go away!"

"I'm asking her as a friend," Phineas clarified. "Unlike you, you sleaze."

Destiny sighed through the ensuing argument. "All right! Fine. I'll give you guys a kiss."

The quarrelling half-brothers stopped and grinned at her. "All right!"

"Go solid, er, whatever it is you do." She leaned out of the car. In a seductive voice, she said, "Close your eyes." They closed their eyes. "Pucker up." They puckered their lips. She put one hand behind Ezra's head and the other against the back of Phineas's. Then she pushed their faces together. Before speeding off, she kissed the tips of her fingers and placed them against Gus's forehead.

Finally opening their eyes, Phineas and Ezra jumped back away from each other, screaming. Ezra furiously wiped his hands over his lips, mumbling obsenities. "Ezra, ol' buddy," said Phineas. "I think our friendship just crossed a very strange line." Gus just laughed.


The elevator doors started to close as Destiny pushed the button for the top floor. "Hold it!" cried a voice. Instinctively, she held out a hand against the metal doors, nearly dropping a stack of folders she was holding. "Thanks," the newcomer breathed, catching his breath from his mad dash.

"No problem." The end of the phrase caught in her throat when she realized who it was. She stood back, near the wall. "Good morning, Mr. Jordan."

Craig brushed down his jacket and straightened his tie. "Good morning, Destiny." He cleared his throat and pulled back his broad shoulders. No one said anything. They just listened to the wordless music that droned out of a little speaker. It was "Spanish Flea." Destiny tried to recall if she knew the words or not. Then she looked up at each corner of the ceiling. Then she checked to see what floor they were on. Why, oh why, did their offices have to be on the last story? She looked over at Craig. Was he closer to her than he had been earlier? He was staring at her. Concentrating on the doors, she silently prayed that they would open soon.

Her paranoia got the better of her, and she turned her head. Craig was closer. And he was reaching an arm out towards her! She didn't bother screaming. Instead, she dropped her papers and punched him in the stomach. The move had been pure reaction, ignited by nerves rather than thought. Doubling over, he cried, "What's your problem!"

"What's your problem? It looked like you were going to grab me!"

Coughing, he sputtered, "You had something in your hair. I was going to get it out."

As her ex-fiancee wheezed, Destiny ran her hand through her hair and found another blond strand. "Yuck. I suppose it could be worse. They could be mine and gray." Annoyed with herself, she bent down to pick up the files. "Sorry."

"Have you ever considered meditation?" asked Craig. He was still bent double, his face over the top of Destiny's head now. "It might help you relax." Too concerned with his own lingering pain, he didn't bother to ask if she needed help.

"I didn't hear you. What did you say?" Standing up quickly, she clocked him right on the nose.

"Bammit!" he screamed, jumping back. His hands were cupped around his nose. "Ew boke et!" Backpeddling, he hit the wall. "I'm beeding!" Before Destiny could say he was being ridiculous, he pulled his hands away from his face. Blood poured out of his nostrils and down his chin. "Jebus!"

Letting her files drop to the floor again, she rushed to his side. "Okay, don't panic! It's just a...ew...little blood...all over your white shirt." She grimaced. "That's not going to come out." A quick dig through her purse produced a couple of tissues. Craig snatched them from her hand and tried to stop the crimson cascade. It was to no avail and he quickly threw the soaked paper to the floor. Destiny quickly dialed 911. The elevator bell dinged, signaling that they were on their floor. Rolling her eyes at the bad luck, she hit the button for the first floor.

Wide-eyed, Craig demanded, "We hab oo go all da wayb back donb?"

Destiny hung up the phone after her brief call. "Well, how else do you think the paramedics will get to you quickly? You don't want to have to wait while they come all the way up there, do you?" She pursed her lips and scowled. "And don't hold your head back! All that will do is make blood go down the back of your throat, and then you'll choke and probably die." There was no sympathy or caring in her voice.

Steely grey eyes glaring back at her, he whined, "But it won't stob beeding! Blud is all ober my new suib! You bid dis bish, ficks et!"

"Fine!" she snarled.


Two paramedics were waiting outside of the elevator, looking clean and crisp in their white shirts and pants. The doors opened with a cheerful little ding and Craig stepped out, his face beet red with anger and embarrassment. His nose was no longer bleeding, Destiny had made sure of that. Dangling from each nostril was a little string, which was attached to a cotton tube. One of the paramedics blinked while the other tried to hold in her laughter. "Are those," the first peered at Craig's nose, "feminine products jammed up your nostrils?"

In an attempt to retain as much dignity as possible, Craig replied, "Well, et stobbed da beedin', bidn't et?" He strode out, with the two doctors laughing as they jogged behind him to keep up. He took one last look over his shoulder at Destiny. She grinned at waved to him before the elevator doors closed again.

As soon as she stepped out of the elevator, Destiny ran into the nearest women's room. She splashed cold water on her face. Patting it dry, she slowly lifted up her head and looked at her reflection in the counter length mirror. Heart pounding, cheeks flushed, and hair slightly astray, she looked as if she had just dodged a run-away truck. "What did I do?" she moaned.

"Shoved tampons up your boss's nose," answered a voice behind her. Marie Covington's reflection crept in behind Destiny's.

"You heard about that, huh?"

"Hon', the entire building heard about that. Somebody even took a picture." Marie leaned over a sink and inspected her lipstick in the mirror. "I can't imagine that there's any woman here who wouldn't want to do what you did."

As much as Destiny disliked Marie--disliked being a huge understatement--she was curious. "What do you mean?"

Marie scoffed. "Oh, please, he's made a pass at every woman here. We all hate him."

Destiny blinked. Angrily, she snapped, "If I recall, you--"

Marie held up a hand, interrupting her. "Mistakes were made." She lit up a cigarette. "I am really sorry, and I'm being sincere when I say that." After tapping the end of her cigarette on the sink, she continued. "Honey, if I could, I'd undue it. But it wouldn't change anything if I did. I wasn't the only one. Lord knows why, out of all the women, he chose to marry you. Probably because he knew you had standards. " Pushing her ashy auborn bangs out of her eyes, she sighed. "I cried for hours that day, Destiny. I was ashamed of what I'd done, and ashamed of being used. He's a sweet talker, I'll give him that." Turning to look at Destiny, she had a little half smile on her face. Her eyes glinted, as if she had a tear or two she wanted to shed. "Guess we both learned a lesson, huh?"

"I guess so," Destiny half smiled back. "A truce?" She held out a hand.

"Sure," Marie agreed, shaking Destiny's hand. "I'm glad to get that off my chest." After putting out her cigarette, she said, "I suppose it's time to quit our girly talk and get back to work. Boss man's probably got some lackey to keep a close on us while he's gone."

Destiny smiled to herself. Maybe there are some things you can get over, she thought as they walked out of the bathroom. Or at least some things that can begin healing.

"So tell me," Marie began slyly, "what lucky man gave you the rose?"

"A no body," Destiny replied coyly.

"Oh, don't be obnoxious like that! Tell me! Oh, you can't be silent forever. Humming is not an answer...Fine! I'll bug you again at lunch."


A/N: "Jebus" is a tiny Simpsons tribute, and that particular nose bleed cure was inspired by a Beavis and Butt-Head episode. Only high brow humor here, people. :p