I don't know if you've ever seen Just Like Heaven, but it's one of my favorites, and I love borrowing the theme for some of my ghost stories. It's been a while since I've written a ghost story, and maybe it's silly, but I hope someone enjoys it somewhere. Of course, I'm already thinking of writing another in the future with roles reversed. We'll see. I've got another story almost finished about Lee and Emily, but I haven't posted it yet as I don't want to bombard everyone with all my ideas at once. If you think I should post it now, though, let me know.

Like some of my other stories, I'm borrowing Lee Christmas from The Expendables. The focus is mostly on him, not the team. I always do some type of character development so you get a feel for him.

Happy reading!

*There is a trigger warning for this story for some small scenes of violence.

2010

Emily Charlton jolted upright with a gasp and clutched at her chest. She sat in the dark breathing hard and feeling the tears starting to come.

"No, no, no," she said. She couldn't have another panic attack. She braced herself as it started anyway, and she did her best to breathe through it and ground herself. After about ten minutes, she felt her body start to calm down again. Her breathing slowed, and her mind stopped racing. She turned her head to look at the digital alarm clock and groaned. It was only three in the morning.

It was pointless to try and sleep now. She was wide awake, and the nightmare was still too fresh in her head. She slid out of bed and padded to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She turned on the lights, picking up the TV remote as she passed the switch, and put on the TV. Some sitcom was on, the canned laughter echoing as she set down the remote and finished her water.

It was her first night in her new place. She wasn't in love with it, but it had been last minute and offered at a great rate. It was better than the alternative, which was to stay in the last place she'd been at and get hunted down by the man who wanted to kill her. She shivered, picturing his face and his eyes. She looked at her water glass. She needed something stronger. She went to pull out her whiskey and poured a glass. She drank it quickly and easily, pouring another. After two and a half glasses, she was feeling slightly better. She went to sit on the couch and tried to focus on the TV. She had a new name, a new identity. She was in WITSEC of all things, waiting to attend a trial and give testimony against a killer, a killer she'd witnessed commit murder and who tried to murder her too. She tried not to think about how if somehow he didn't get sent to prison, she'd be in WITSEC forever, which meant never speaking to her family again, never working at her favorite job again, and never trusting another living soul again. Well, she was pretty sure she'd always have trust issues after this regardless. She'd been relocated to New Orleans where it was believed no one would look for her. She tried her best to believe that, but it was hard since he'd found her four times already. They had promised that her relocating had been kept very secret and only three people knew about it. She'd see if that actually was true.

"What in the hell are you doing?" a voice asked suddenly. Emily let out a high-pitched shriek, jerking her hand and splashing out the rest of her whiskey on the floor. She whipped her head towards the sound and stared, heart hammering and breathing all over the place. A man was standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at her.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, trying to sound braver than she felt. She gripped her glass. It would make a good enough weapon in the moment until she got something better.

"I think the question is, who the hell are you?" the man countered, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"You first," she argued.

"I'm the owner of this apartment that you seem to be acting as though you live in," he retorted. She felt alarm. How was that possible?

"N-No," she stammered. "I live here now. I picked up the keys this afternoon." It was possibly a short term rental, not that she'd tell him that. The guy she'd spoken to had said they were waiting on a few things first before letting it be longer term.

The man barked out a laugh and came closer. She scrambled to her feet, holding the glass out in front of her as a weapon.

"Are you serious?" he asked, giving her a look. "I could kill you with two of my fingers if I had to."

Emily gulped. Kill her? Who was this guy?!

"Look," she said, "it's three in the morning. I'm stressed. I'm tired, and I'm not going anywhere."

"I think you are," he argued, stepping even closer. She backed up until she was against the wall. She screamed as he moved to grab her, closing her eyes tightly. When nothing happened, she looked up to see him still standing there, but he was looking at his hands with an expression she couldn't make out.

"What?" she asked. He looked at her again, and she could see it in his eyes. It was something she saw in her own eyes every day. Fear.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone tight. He was trying to mask his fear now. "This isn't funny."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered. "Honest."

She watched as he reached for her arm again, and her eyes widened when his hand went right through her. She felt a mild tickling sensation, which she had missed the first time in her fear.

"Oh my God," she said, looking at his face again. "Y-You...you're a..."

"Don't say it," he cut her off, pointing a finger at her. "I'm not. There has to be an explanation for this..." He started to pace, gripping his head.

"I didn't drink that much," Emily reasoned, looking at the three quarter full whiskey bottle on the coffee table. She wasn't drunk, but here she was looking at a ghost, for that's the only explanation for this.

"I'm not dead," the man went on, more to himself than her. "I...I'm not."

"I hate to burst your bubble..." she started.

"I'M NOT DEAD!" he shouted, spinning to face her. She noticed his hands were trembling. "I'm not. I can't be."

"Just calm down," she instructed, feeling a bit safer. A ghost couldn't hurt her, could it? She gave him a wide berth as she moved back to sit on the couch again.

"You know, when men tell women that, they hate it," he said, annoyed. "It works both ways, you know. Men hate it too."

"Just think," she ordered, ignoring him. "What's your last memory?"

She watched him think hard. He sat down on the chair across from her. Hovered? She tried to look. She wasn't sure how he was pulling it off.

"I can't," he said after a moment. "It's blank. What does that mean?"

"I have no idea," Emily answered. "You're my first ghost I've ever encountered."

"I'm not a ghost," he said irritably.

Emily bit her tongue to prevent herself from answering. If he wanted to be in denial, then she couldn't help him. She pinched herself instead. Maybe she was still asleep and this was like inception with the whole dream within a dream thing.

"I gotta call Barney," he said, getting up and going for the phone. She felt a little bad for him when he tried unsuccessfully to pick it up. He looked at her. "Call him for me."

"What? No," she shook her head. "I'm not doing that."

"He'll know what happened to me," the man insisted.

"Did I mention it's three in the morning?" she retorted.

"He'll be awake. He barely sleeps."

"No," she said firmly, going back to watch the TV. This was ridiculous. She was not going to sit and argue with a ghost. She was merely hallucinating from all the stress, and he'd soon go away if she ignored him.

He didn't go away.

"Like it or not," he said, going to stand in front of her. "I'm real."

"No, you're not," she shook her head. "I'm having a hallucination, and I'll soon wake up from it and everything will be okay." She flinched slightly when he put his face right in front of hers.

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her. She turned off the TV and stood up.

"I'm going to bed, and you better stay out here," she warned. "When I wake up, you'll be gone."

"I'll be sitting right here," he said, gesturing with his finger.

Emily ignored him and went back to her bedroom, closing the door and locking it. Then she mentally chastised herself. He could just go through the door if he really wanted to. She gave herself a shake. This whole thing wasn't real. It just couldn't be. She was tired. She was slightly drunk. She listed a bunch of other reasons as she curled underneath the covers and did her best to fall back to sleep.

"I'm alone," she told herself. "It's just me here. I'm safe. I'm okay. I'm alone."

She eventually fell back to sleep.

...

In the morning, Emily got up and stretched, chuckling to herself about the insane dream she'd had during the night. She did her morning routine, which included a shower. She sang "Teenage Dream" at the top of her lungs as she did so. She was working really hard to feel better about everything, and sometimes singing helped. She was still humming it as she went to get something to eat.

"You're a terrible singer," his voice said.

Emily screamed and jumped in fright, whirling to see the man still sitting exactly where she'd left him the night before. She fell backwards into the island counter, grabbing it with her hands to stop from falling over.

"No," she said.

"Yes," he said back.

"No!" she said again, louder. She smacked at her face, trying to wake up.

"You're not sleeping," he told her.

"Shut up," she snapped. She started to pace. "This is not happening. This can't be happening..."

"Are you finished?" he asked, annoyed. She stopped moving and glared at him.

"You cannot be real," she said angrily. "Because if you are, then there's something wrong with me, and I've already got too much shit going on to have a mental problem added on top!"

"You think I want this to be real?" he asked, incredulous. "I don't want this to be real! I don't want to be dead!"

Emily let his words settle in the apartment, and she felt bad for him again. She couldn't imagine waking up as a ghost and arguing with someone who was refusing to accept their existence.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "If this is real, then how do I get you to...to pass on?"

"Hell if I know," he snorted.

"Have you remembered anything yet? Anything at all?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "And that's really bothering me."

"Any unfinished business you need to attend to? Something that might be holding you back from crossing over?"

"I don't know."

"Can you be a little bit more helpful?" she asked. He glared at her.

"You think I didn't sit here all night trying to figure out what happened to me?" he snapped.

"Of course you did," she said. "I'm sorry. This is just...it's all very new to me."

"Ditto," he said gruffly.

"Shall we start over?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Introduce ourselves properly?" she prompted. He raised a brow.

"You're serious?"

"Yes," she said, slightly affronted. "What's wrong with that?" He didn't seem to have an answer for her, and she watched him hesitate for a moment.

"Oh, what the hell," he said, waving his hand. "Fine. I'm Lee."

"Nice to meet you," she replied. "I'm...Jess." She cringed inside. She was already forgetting her new name. This was not good.

"How about you tell me your real name," he said on cue.

"It's Jess."

"No, it's not."

"It is!"

"You paused. That means you had to think about a name to tell me other than your own," he pointed out.

"What are you, a cop?" she asked.

"A little more dangerous than a cop," he told her.

"Like what?"

"No, no," he said, pointing at her. "You're not deflecting that easily. What's your real name?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I just can't," she insisted. She crossed her arms. She was arguing with a ghost. She really was losing her mind. If only her friends and family could see her now.

He peered at her curiously for a moment.

"You're hiding from someone," he noted.

"No..."

"Why else would you change your name?" he challenged.

"There are lots of reasons for changing a name," she said back.

"You're in WITSEC," he said, getting it.

"N-No..."

"Relax," he said. "I'm dead, remember? Who am I going to tell?"

He had a point. She sighed.

"Right," she said. "Well then, I'm Emily."

"Okay, Emily," he said. "You wanna tell me why you're in WITSEC?"

"Absolutely not," she said hotly.

"Okay then. Now that we've met. Will you help me?"

"I don't know how," she replied. "I don't even know how to help myself."

"Simple," he said. "Call Barney."

Emily groaned inwardly. She didn't want to do this. How was she going to talk to someone she didn't know about a ghost in her apartment?

"I don't want to," she said out loud.

"You just said you'd help me," he reminded her.

"I meant take you on a journey to find out what your unfinished business is to help you cross over," she said, slightly exasperated.

"I have zero interest in doing that," Lee snorted. He crossed his arms. Emily felt stuck. If she wanted to get rid of him, she was going to have to do what he wanted. If they figured out what happened to him, then maybe he'd go away. She sighed loudly. It did beat sitting around ruminating on the thoughts about possibly getting found and murdered.

"What's his number?"

Three Months Earlier

New Orleans

Lee Christmas looked over at his friend, Barney Ross, and took in the sight of his battered face and grim expression. It had been one hell of a fight on Vilena, and they were lucky to have gotten out of there in one piece.

"Was it worth it?" he asked, unable to help himself. Barney pulled his cigar from his lips.

"Was it worth it?" Barney repeated, shooting him a look. "Why would you ask me a question like that?"

"Just curious," Lee replied. Barney chuckled, taking a sip of his beer and another puff on his cigar. He tapped his fingers on the controls with his left hand.

"We freed an island, Lee," he said eventually. "We gave people their lives back. Of course it was worth it."

Lee rested back in his seat and nodded. He thought so too. They could hear the boys in the back laughing and talking amongst each other. He thought of Lacy and how she had remorse for seeing another man while he'd been gone. He knew Barney thought he was nuts for wanting to move forward with the relationship still, but he figured since Lacy now knew what he did for a living, she might be more willing to wait for him when he was gone.

"Don't do it," Barney said, reading his mind.

"Do what?"

"Go back to her."

"I think it could work..."

"She'll just do it again," Barney insisted. "Learn from the first time around and let it go." Lee didn't comment. He'd do what he bloody well wanted to do. Barney could just deal with it. He shut his eyes, trying to get some sleep. It was also a way of him telling Barney he was done with the conversation.

They eventually got home and cleaned up. He beat Tool in a knife toss. They drank and celebrated. He'd gone home.

He never made it to the front door.

New York

It had been another day at the office. Miranda had been extra cranky for reasons no one knew. Emily had been dealt some derogatory statements from her throughout the day, and she was ready to go home and have a drink and forget the entire experience. She was packing up to leave when it happened.

Screams came down the hall first followed by gunshots. Emily froze, her brain trying to put together what she was hearing.

"Emily, what is that horrible noise?" Miranda asked, standing in the doorway of her office. The latest second assistant, Rebecca Gold (a.k.a. Becky), was standing at her desk looking extremely frightened.

"I..." Emily tried. Another gunshot went off, and it meant the person was coming down the hall. Emily didn't even think. She bolted. She ran out and down the hall away from the sound. She kept hearing screams and shots as she ran. She found an abandoned office and closed the door, looking around frantically. She decided to hide in the closet behind a rack of clothes. She worked to even her breathing, cursing herself for forgetting her phone on her desk. It was too late to use the landline in this room now. She heard the door open and felt the panic come back. Had they come for her?

"Stop, please!" Becky's voice was begging. Emily froze. She moved slightly to look through the crack of clothes and closet door to see Becky being shoved into the desk by a man. He pulled off his ski mask, and she saw his entire face.

"I told you I'd find you," he sneered. "You can't hide from me!"

"Jake, please," Becky begged again. "I...I'll come back."

"That's not enough," Jake snarled. "You told so many lies about me. How could you do that?!"

"I'm sorry," Becky sobbed. He grabbed her by the hair, and she cried out. Emily didn't know what to do. She was paralyzed by fear. She was thinking how she could somehow intervene when Jake made his move.

"You should have never left," he told Becky. Two gunshots went off, and Emily clamped hands to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming in horror. Becky fell to the floor, lifeless, and Jake put his mask back on and left the room. Emily waited to make sure he wasn't coming back before crawling out of her hiding spot on shaky legs and going over to Becky on the floor.

"Oh my God," she whimpered. "Becky?" She didn't know what to do. She picked up Becky's wrist, trying to find a pulse like they showed on the television. She couldn't find one. She went to the phone on the desk now and dialled for help.

The rest happened in a blur.

If you have time to leave a review, I always enjoy hearing your thoughts. It also motivates me to post faster :D