The house was quiet as he stood outside. It appeared almost pasted against the dark sky in a weird artsy way. The only light came from the single window on the second floor-Sydney's room. Christian looked at the broken street lamp, surprised at the memories it held. It had in fact been where Marci and he first kissed. Thats why they had bought that house.

He sighed emptily, and headed up towards the front door. The porch stairs creaked under his weight, and his boots clunked loudly on the time-worn wood. He reached up and touched the door knob, only to find it was locked. He hadnt expected it to be open, especially after the night Sydney had.

He looked around and spotted the small gargoyle statue that Marci had picked up at a yard sale. It's distorted face showed melancholy, and Christian half expected it to break out sobbing in front of him. He bent and lifted the statue. Sure enough, a spare key was attached to the bottom with a piece of tape. He pulled the key off and let himself in the house.

It was deadly silent throughout the small home. A slight ticking noise came from the kitchen-the clock. Christian glanced around before walking slowly up the stairs. Instinctively, he walked down the hall to the master bedroom, his and Marci's room. He flicked the lightswitch and the small lamp on Marci's side of the bed was the only light to come on. Then he walked slowly to the bed, and sat down. He lay down and breathed in the smell of Marci's shampoo-coconut melon, he'd always loved it.

Christian felt the hot tears form in his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away, almost laughing dryly. He was Christian Marc Harbor. He didnt cry...never. But it came so easy now. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, this couldnt be happening. He couldnt even explain what was happening. He should have been dead now, lying on that tray next to Marci, waiting for the autopsy.

Before more tears could form, Christian quickly got up. He walked to the closet and threw open the doors quietly, just in case Sydney was sleeping. He changed his bloody clothes into something more suitable for his mood: baggy black pants, and a black mesh sleeveless shirt, keeping his boots on. Then he left his bedroom and walked down the hall to the door that led to Sydney's room. The door was open halfway, and a light flickered inside. Christian opened the door more to find candles lit everywhere, and Sydney face down in her bed. Her window was open, and the curtains billowed from the slight wind.

Christian stood in the doorway watching as Sydney's back rose and fell with each shallow breath. It appeared as if she had cried herself to sleep. Christian shoved his hands into his pockets, and entered the room more. Most of the candles were sitting on Sydney's vanity table, while a single black one sat on her bedside table. Christian walked to the vanity and hesitantly sat down on the small stool. His reflection wasnt all that bad for a dead person. He actually looked as alive as he had been.

He looked at all the pictures littering the small table, and taped to the sides of the mirror. There were some of Sydney's favorite rock band, she was a bit obsessive when it came to that, but most were of Marci and/or Christian. A particular picture caught his eye, and Christian pulled it down from its spot on the mirror. It was of he and Marci standing outside what looked to be a theatre. There was a large sign in the background, the one with the masks. Only one of the masks was visible though, the mask of irony. Christian studied it a moment before he had an idea...more of an impluse.

He picked up one of Sydney's stray black eyeliners, and he carefully drew on his face, the marks of irony. A line through his right eye, then his left, and finally a smile that slanted right up his cheekbones. Something still wasnt right, his lips..they were too...alive. He picked up a tube of black lipstick and put it on, seemingly well being that it was the first time in his life that he had ever worn lipstick. Well, the first time in his death.

Setting the lipstick down, he gazed at himself once more in the mirror. He was almost proud at what he saw. His mask was complete, ironic, yet it made him look like a skeleton almost...like he should-dead.

Suddenly, Sydney stirred behind him on her bed. Christian jumped up and turned. What would be her reaction? But she had only rolled over so that she was now facing him. Slowly, Christian neared her sleeping form, looking down at her in pain. Her mascara and eyeliner had run from her tears, leaving black streaks down her cheeks. 'Heh,' Christian thought dryly, 'her own mask.'

He reached down and ran a hand over her cheek. She had always been close to him, but not like a sister. And thats what made it cool between them. They didnt feel related in any way, they just liked each others company.

Before Christian could register what had happened, Sydney was against the wall staring at him with wide eyes. His hand lay useless at his side now as he stared at the floor, oddly ashamed of how he looked.

"Christian?!" Sydney exclaimed, her voice barely audible over a whisper.

"Hey Syd." Christian replied, slowly.

"Oh my God." Sydeny said shakily, "Christian...how...?"

He shook his head. "I dont know." he answered. "I wish I did."

"But..." Sydney said, "You're supposed to be dead."

There was a hesitant pause and Christian finally met her gaze. "I am." he said.

Sydney's eyes widened even more if possible, as Christian pulled up his shirt to reveal what used to be the gunshot wound. Only now it was a pockmark, as if it had been nothing.

"I cant explain it." Christian said, "I..."

Sydney looked at him more closely. "What did you do to your face?" she asked.

"Make-up." Christian answered, "The mask of--"

"Irony." Sydney finished, then she looked down. "Wow...this is..unbelievable."

"I know." Christian said, "I was brought back to life for something though, not just to be brought back. I just...have a pounding headache." he rubbed his temples. "I dont know what to think."

"Revenge." Sydney said quietly.

"What?" Christian asked.

"Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord." Sydney said looking back at him, she suddenly seemed a bit excited. "Maybe you were brought back to seek..justice."

Christian looked at the ground again, his brow furrowing. Now that she said that, it made sense.

"You know, find the people who killed you...and Marci." Sydney said, her voice lowering when she said her sisters name.

There was a sudden scratching noise, and the two looked at the window to see a crow perched on the sill, staring in at them from between the black drapes. Christian stared at it, as it stared back, its beady eyes seemed to read him like a book.

"This crow has something to do with it." Christian said, not taking his eyes off the big black bird, which cocked its head again, as if it understood him. "I dont know what, but he does."