Standard disclaimer and notes: Yup, this ficcy belongs to me. I don't own anything else because if I did, I'd be making some money off of this and writing it at 3 am would be even more worth losing a lot of sleep and being dead tired tomorrow. But it's all good. This is the chapter where the haunting or random annoyances begin, and I guess where the ghost and Mrs. Ul Copt finally have a decent chat. I'd like to apologize for OOC-likenesses and remind the reader that this fic has absolutely no boundaries. As the author is definitely unbalanced for coming up with an idea like this, so will the fic itself be slightly unbalanced. I'm thoroughly excited that people like it because I'm starting to really like it, myself. Well what are you waiting for? Go read.

Restless Spirit
Chapter 4 - Conditions

Filia awoke the next morning shivering uncontrollably and feeling downright exhausted from a night of fretful dreams and fleeting images of violet eyes that seemed to glow unnaturally. But then violet eyes and glowing eyes both were unnatural. She sighed, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, placing her feet on the ice-cold floor, and sleepily looked around the dimly-lit room. She frowned.

The window was hanging wide open. No wonder she was freezing.

She couldn't remember clearly if she'd closed it or not, but thought that she'd shut it just before going to bed. But then, most of the incidents of last night had seemed like an immensely confusing and surreal dream. She'd left the kitchen in a daze, somehow made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, and had dressed for bed, first shutting the window to stop the torrent of rain getting her floor wet.

The kitchen. She'd dreamed of…something…that itched at the corner of her mind, an occurrence that she was not quite keen on classifying as a memory just yet. Indeed, she was tempted to call it an actual event, but the circumstances had been just too…absurd…to call it anything but a dream.

To think, a ghost…hiding out in her house, trying to scare her by blowing out her match. Yes, she remembered going downstairs during the storm to fix some tea and cookies, but after that, things just got a little fuzzy. Surreal, like she'd been looking in on herself from outside. At least, that's what it felt like. Surely she hadn't actually seen a frightful, dark figure standing by the window, illuminated briefly by flashes of lighting. Surely she hadn't heard his voice, soft and smooth and slightly high-pitched. No…she'd dreamed it, she was sure. Probably the effects of the atmosphere, and the words of that fool Mr. Calloway. She made a mental note to give that man a good verbal lashing the next time she spoke with him.

Sighing wearily, she rose to her feet and padded over to the open window, gazing out at the gloomy horizon with its overcast sky that seemed to blend in with the murky blue waters at some point. The air was freezing, and there was a hint of more rain to come, which did little to improve her already-frazzled nerves. Frowning, she shut the window, and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm them.

Looking at the clock, she realized that the rest of her household would be up and busy already. She must have been more tired than she realized. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs for breakfast.

***

She was instantly met with an excited little boy covered in milk, grinning from ear to ear. Dreading the story about why he was covered in milk, and automatically assuming that was why he was grinning; she frowned in reaction and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face took on a very scolding look, which unfortunately didn't diminish the grin on Val's dripping face.

"Filia-mum! You'll never guess what we just saw!" he exclaimed, bouncing up and down. Filia glanced over at Jacob and George, both of whom were cowering by the counter, looking horrified. She raised an eyebrow at them, and Jacob cleared his throat.

"Eh…Miss Filia…we, uh…saw somethin' not quite…right…" Jacob stuttered. "Thet be why the young lad is covered wit' milk, ye see…"

"I'm listening," she said shortly, mentally wincing at the harshness in her tone, and immediately felt guilty for it when Jacob visibly cringed. He looked near the verge of tears as he explained hysterically that, as he put it, "one minute the bowl was sittin' nice and quiet-like on the table an' the next minute it jes' up and flew off, like someone knocked if off, and it weren't young Val 'cause he was sittin' there all nice and quiet-like, too…an' it got all over him."

Filia tried in vain to stop her imminent headache from coming on, and rubbed her temple. So…not only was she dreaming of ghosts, but her servants were seeing things. She refused to believe this rubbish, therefore she continued glaring at Val in a scolding manner.

"Thought you'd add to this little ghost problem, would you?" she accused him. "I'll not have it, young man. Tell me the truth; did you knock your bowl off of the table?"

Val looked as though he would start crying any minute, but he glared defiantly back. "I did not! I'm tellin' you, the bowl flew off the table by itself and got milk an' oatmeal all over me!"

Filia was not convinced. "Why, then, are you so happy about it?"

That was a given, it seemed. "Why not? It was fantastic!"

***

The rest of the day did not improve, at all, for anyone except Val, whose day had already gotten off to a more than amusing head start. Filia wanted nothing more than to call on that despicable Mr. Calloway and rip him into tiny shreds for giving she and her son such ridiculous impressions. But no matter what, or how, she tried to explain away the mysterious occurrences that happened during the day, nor the nagging feeling that someone was watching her every move, she was beginning to lose ground on her convictions.

Indeed, that morning she had not felt the need to, pardon the expression, cry over spilled milk. But as the day went on, she was beginning to hate the ghost with a passion, whether he was real or not. Most of all because Val had not stopped talking about it all day long, but there were a couple of other occasions...

For instance, she had decided to take a nice, long, relaxing bath in the early afternoon. The bath house was located behind the main house, set there for privacy. The large, luxurious tub was a sparkling black and able to be heated, which she found most enjoyable. She had settled in up to her chin and was nearly asleep before she had that feeling that someone was watching her. She was alarmed enough to open her eyes and look around to see if anyone was peeking through the windows, but there had been no one. However, when she was looking around, she noticed that her bathrobe was missing.

As were her clothes.

Now she was wide awake, and furious. Just WHO had the nerve, not to mention the indecency to steal her clothes and robe? Surely not her servants, she thought. Jacob and George were working on fixing the wiring in the house, to make the lights stop flickering. Val was off somewhere…and if he had been the one to take her clothes, he would be in for a beating he would not forget.

The worst of it was she couldn't stay in the tub forever, and that meant she had to get out. She didn't relish the idea of calling for help. Not. At. All. But, she reminded herself with a note of disdain, necessity before pride. Isn't that what Grandfather always said? She wrinkled her nose. Grandfather said quite a bit, most of it not worth remembering. Not that he always practiced what he preached. Sometimes quite the opposite.

Clearing her throat and feeling a deeply humiliated flush creep across her cheeks, she hollered, "JACOB!"

She waited a moment, and sure enough, seconds later she heard the sound of footsteps running towards the bath house. Jacob hastily flung open the door and rushed inside. "Ye called, Miss Filia?! What be…uh…the, uh…?" His question tapered off to an unfinished end as he openly gaped at the scene before him, his face having gone six shades of red in two seconds.

Filia felt her blush deepen and she scowled perhaps more than she meant to. "Um…Jacob, would you please fetch me a robe…and perhaps my clothes?"

"A-a-aye.…" he stammered, clearly unable to say anything else. But he didn't move.

Filia sighed, annoyed, but at that moment she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and, for the briefest of moments, saw a pair of deep, violet eyes twinkling, peering at her through the window, just seconds before they disappeared. She screamed, and stood up, pointing. "LOOK!!!" she cried. "Did you see him? He's the one who stole my clothes!"

There was no answer, and for a moment Filia wondered why Jacob hadn't run after the nasty thief. Upon glancing at him, she noticed that her servant's eyes had gotten wider than she would have thought possible. Then she looked down at herself…and her face, which she didn't think could get any more red, suddenly felt like it would burst.

"AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!!!"

***

Once dressed again and having regained at least some of her composure, Filia decided to unpack and put away some more of her things. At least, she thought, it was less likely to put her in further…precarious positions. So she started with the living room, digging out her boxes with paintings and portraits of her family, as well as some knick-knacks that she'd collected over the years.

She whistled a light tune as she hung her pictures, smiling at each one and occasionally reminiscing about a certain thought or memory. Her thoughts seemed taken over by more pressing issues at the moment, mostly concerning a ghost that she had yet to decide whether she believed or didn't believe in. Val had insisted that he hadn't taken her clothes, even though that hadn't stopped her from lecturing him simply to vent her frustration. Neither of her servants had taken her clothes, she was sure. Sure enough to not ask them after Jacob had run out of the bathhouse without another word, and she hadn't seen either of them since. She thought it best at the time

She wasn't so sure that she had dreamed that incident in the kitchen, as much as she'd like to believe that she had. Ghosts just did not exist…or so she'd always thought. She never could believe in anything extraordinary…perhaps because of a rather ordinary and somewhat boring life.

She had to admit, whether she liked it or not, that she was intrigued by the idea more than she was appalled by it. Indeed, someone who had been around for centuries was for sure to have all kinds of stories…stories of adventures. He would have so much to tell. But apparently, this was a ghost who didn't want to talk. He really just wanted to scare her to get her to leave just like the rest of the previous renters. If she thought about it, he'd really only begun the 'haunting', if she could call it that, by just being annoying. So how hard was he going to try to get her out? What if he went to great extremes to frighten her or Val? Or her two servants? She wasn't sure just how much she could take, depending on the extremes that he took.

She wasn't about to go down without a fight, either. She defiantly raised a fist into the air in effect, and nearly dropped the vase she had in the other hand when from behind her she heard an amused voice say, "My, my, you certainly are scaring the air in here."

She flushed deeply again, her instincts telling her she'd been caught…her embarrassment only increasing when she realized whom she'd been caught by. She realized, with great disdain, that she'd truly been believing in the ghost's existence ever since seeing him peep in on her through the bath house window.

She heard a deep chuckle and whirled around to see the house's current other resident smiling at her from the ever-present shadows. For some reason, his presence did not frighten her as much as it had the previous night in the kitchen. Perhaps it was because she had only been able to see his eyes, and his smile, illuminated by lightning and the soft glow of her lamp. This time, he was not so well-hidden by the shadows, and she could see his face as well as his clothes. He was dressed entirely in black, which didn't surprise her. Black seemed to be befitting a ghost, in her opinion.

But his face…that was another story. Hidden by shadows much darker the night before, she had only been able to make out a vague outline of his countenance, framed by dark, stringy hair, and set off by eerie, glowing eyes and a chilling smile. Now that she could see him fully, the whole picture was not much different, but significantly different enough.

He had pale, smooth skin, with thin lips that were pulled into a slightly amused smile, and she wondered if he was trying to look menacing. Indeed, his eyes were frightful, but she supposed that they weren't as frightening as they could be. They seemed to have lost their glow for the time being, and looked strangely…sad, perhaps…she didn't quite know how to describe it. As if he had lost everything he'd ever known and was left with this empty shell. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, she reminded herself. A stringy mess of shoulder-length dark hair that almost looked like a deep violet, as well, framed his thin face, and would have given him a wild, insane look if his face hadn't looked so…tired. Too many years of existing, she supposed, and oddly enough, she felt like she could identify.

But, her slight twinge of pity for him subsided when he finally spoke again. "So…you believe in me now, do you?"

"I see no point in continuing to deny it," she replied steadily. "However, if you were going to go about proving yourself, I wish you'd chosen a much more…honorable way…"

He chuckled. "I never dwelt in honorable things," he replied, and with a sly smirk, added, "I found it to be entertaining, at least."

She snorted, turning red once again with anger. "The nerve of you! Well, you won't be chasing me out of my house. I shall not be moved around simply because you don't want us here. I'm paying rent for this house and I deserve to be able to keep it."

"I never said I wanted you to leave," he said cryptically. "However, now that you mention it, yes, I would like it if you left. This is, after all, my house originally. And I don't want to leave."

"Why don't you just…go to Heaven? Or…Hell…wherever you belong," she said, praying she hadn't angered him by suggesting he go to hell.

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. It was the second time she'd heard him laugh, and realized that it was not frightening in the least. She again could detect a note of bitterness behind his amusement, and wondered not for the first time what he could be bitter about. And then she remembered something that Mr. Calloway had told her, and it suddenly made sense to her.

"Oh, I see" she said, blushing again. "I suppose if you can't go to either place because of…certain things...then it makes sense that you'd want to stay in the place you lived in. I can understand that much, but I just don't understand why you would do such a thing. Tell me…it wasn't because of a woman, was it?" She couldn't help but add that last question, out of sheer curiosity.

He was clearly taken by surprise, because his eyes widened and he didn't reply for a moment. Filia stared at him curiously, wondering why she thought she saw something that might have looked like fear flitter across his face, as fast as the wings of a bird. But that expression was replaced by confusion, and he asked, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, you committed suicide, didn't you?"

He laughed again, this time so hard that he doubled over and nearly collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically. Filia was getting more and more irritated with this ghost.

"For a ghost, you have an abundant sense of humor," she pointed out.

"Do forgive me," he replied, trying not to chuckle. "But that was the most incredibly stupid thing I've ever heard. No doubt you heard it from dear old Mr. Calloway. The fool has no idea what happened to me, and no one never will. Let it be said that he has his fair share of tall tales, most of the ones about myself included."

Filia bit her lip. "So…what did happen to you?"

He paused, and looked about to reply, but much to her disappointment, he decided against it and opted instead to ask, "What makes you think I would kill myself over a woman? And you call your idea of a ghost absurd."

Filia puffed out her chest and looked indignant. "Well, one never knows the foolish things men will get themselves into. They get quite fond of themselves and think that they're God's gift to women. Let it be said to you, my good sir, that men can become far more obsessive than women, and if a woman scorned is to be feared, then a man scorned is oft times to be feared worse."

He gazed at her for a moment, an odd softness in his eyes. "Oft times," he repeated.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Filia absently resumed hanging the pictures on her wall. She hung two or three before looking behind her again, and nodding.

"What is it now?" he asked, still watching her.

"Just making sure you're still here." A thought struck her then, and she asked, "Now that we've managed to have a civilized conversation, does this mean you'll be letting me stay?"

"I never said that, either."

She stuck out her lower lip, pouting. She'd once been told that she looked quite cute when she did that. Unfortunately, he didn't appear to be fazed much, but she wasn't discouraged when he lifted an eyebrow and a small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

"But…you don't understand. I need this house. I can't go back to my crazy old grandfather. He threatened to kill Val, and he's dreadfully boring and greedy. You wouldn't send an innocent young maiden back to such an awful lifestyle, would you?"

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before replying, "Are you absolutely certain that your stay here will be better?"

"It can't be worse."

He chuckled. "I wouldn't speak too soon, if I were you." He sighed, and brushed a strand of stringy hair out of his eyes. "But as it's ever so much fun to annoy people, I suppose I'll let you stay." At the look of sheer delight on Filia's face, he lifted a hand to stop her from saying anything and added, "…On one condition."

Her smile faded. What could he possibly want her to do? She shuddered, blushing slightly and scolded herself for thinking such thoughts.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked in a small voice. He grinned a sadistic little smile. She gulped, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

"There's an old artifact that I bought quite a long time ago from a wealthy gentlemen who was willing to sell it to me for a fair price. I was displeased to find that wonderful Mr. Calloway had it put away in storage when he decided to take over the renting of my house. Now that someone with excellent taste such as yourself insists on staying here, I want it put back in my front lawn. I'm sure you'll have no arguments."

Still wearing that alarming, sadistic grin, he disappeared.

***

"We's had a terrible time gettn' it put there."

"Terribly huge, innit?"

"Why's she say she wants it here, anyways?"

Jacob took another bite out of his sandwich and glanced over at Filia, who was desperately trying not to look at it. In his opinion, it was quite pretty, almost mesmerizing in a way, but for someone as extremely modest as Miss Filia, he knew that it was an embarrassment. He still wasn't sure why she'd made he and George bring it out of storage, but there it was, in all its glory.

The fountain itself was almost ten feet wide in perimeter, with its large slab marble base, holding about two feet of water. That itself was normal enough. The rest was, to say the least, not Filia's idea of art. Two statues adorned the old fountain, statues of questionable decency. One consisted of a beautiful girl angel, with lovely feathered wings spread wide. In her arms she held a basin of water, which fell in a peaceful waterfall into the base. However, the second statue consisted of a very male demon with pointy wings, who clearly liked the female angel, and had wrapped his arms around her in very…gratuitous places.

Filia, hiding her face from the rest of the world at the moment, declared that the ghost was not only annoying but also as despicable as that Mr. Calloway. She was now sure that she was about to have her wits tested, and every last nerve of her patience tried. And that it was no wonder he was dead, she thought.

If he were alive, she'd have done her best to assassinate him.

Well, well, I do believe that is *the* fastest story update I've ever done. How many DAYS between chapters? Three? Four? Not even that? Rather than the usual three month update. ^_^;; Thus, I'm not too sure how good this chapter is. Here's hoping I didn't screw it up. *cheers* Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews!