I don't know exactly what I was thinking when I wrote this. It's really complicated. Heh. I was bored, and was reading a lot of 13 Ghosts fics. I came a cross a couple stories that my muse told me to write. Yeah. Don't get mad if you don't like it. IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT FLAME IT.

The On Coming Darkness.

My Version of The Jackal's Death Story.

She appeared to him again. Why did she haunt him? She smiled lightly; she never left when he wanted her too. She stepped closer, her pale transparent hand stretching to touch his face.

Whimpering, Ryan Kuhn, pulled back, his head still locked in the violent metal crate. The pain he felt in is limps from years and years of restraintment in that full bodied straight jacket, and from the weight of the cold metal resting on his head.

Her face turned to a frown, her arm dropped to her side.

'I didn't mean to kill you!!! Why do you just leave?' He whimpered.

'I can't leave. You know why I here, if you want me to leave so badly, quite wanting me to come back.'

'I can't.'

She reached to him again. He snarled. She chuckled lightly.

'You always were the violent one weren't you?'

'Leave me, please!' He whimpered, as he remembered what happened.

All of a sudden there was a scream from the main floor, an alarm was going off. Minutes past by, and the screaming got louder.

Ryan looked up at her; she was staring at the ceiling.

There was shouting coming from outside the cellar door, it burst open, and three large guards came bounding into the room.

They came at him, quickly and cautiously, he cowered back, snarling at them.

"Come on you lunatic! There's a fire, you gotta get outta here!" They came at him, Ryan snarled again, backing away.

"Con, just leave him. We've gotta get outta here, the fire's already spread to the office. With one last look, the three men disappeared up the stairs.

The smoke started to fill the room minutes later, Ryan hacked and coughed. She was still there, standing and watching him.

'Please help me.' He whimpered. She nodded, getting on her knees she crawled to him, she touched him.

Instead of going through him, her hand stayed solid (don't ask me how, ask the producers in 13 Ghosts how.) they wrapped around him, as he laid there hacking and coughing. She cradled him to her chest, the cold metal crate still bound around his head.

She rocked back and forth, singing a song she used to years earlier, before Ryan had killed her. He closed his eyes, listening to her rhythmic song; he fell asleep, soon after died from the smoke inhalation.

Minutes later the roof over head caved in, burning everything along with it, including Ryan Kuhn.

Ryan thought he was in intimate peace now.

That's until over a hundred years later, Cyrus Kriticos and Dennis Rafkin Dennis Rafkin came along.

88888

Okay, I know a little weird, I am very weird, and sometimes I just don't know what I'm typing. That's what I think might have happened the night Ryan Kuhn (A.K.A. The Jackal) died. I hope you liked it.

[Gets out Super Soaker] I'm ready for the flames. [Pumps it, eyes flashing, grinning wickedly]