The walk back felt like an eternity. The snow kept coming down in earnest, clinging to his clothes, but he could hardly feel the cold. Everything was just numb. It had already been dark when he'd left the house, and ever since, he'd had no idea what time it was. Should've died wearing a wristwatch.

And then there was the question of what he was going back to. He'd never been away from her this long. Not since the day they'd been linked together. But things just had a way of changing, didn't they?

And maybe this was just how it ended. Unceremoniously. She'd put up with him a little while longer, sure. Red was a patient woman. But everyone had a breaking point.

Maybe after all this time, she could get her life back on track, and he'd watch at the sidelines as she rose through the rafters. Rosangela Blackwell, renowned reporter, screenplay writer, TV personality.

She could always do it, after all. If it hadn't been for him hanging around. If they hadn't been busy hunting down spooks. Okay, maybe not that last one, but the point still stood. Maybe he'd even send her a letter once in a while, like the ancient fossil he was.

'Nobody sends letters anymore, Joey.'

'What do you mean? What's wrong with letters?'

'Well, there's no point when sending an email is so much quicker.'

'Sending a what?'

She insisted a lot that he had to be playing dumb. That there was no way he could've been around that long and not know a lick of technology. He'd politely reminded her that he'd spent the last twenty-five years trapped in a hospital room.

But maybe sometimes he was playing dumb. He quirked up the side of his lips only to realize he couldn't feel those either. And where even was he? Was that Central Park? This was the wrong side of Manhattan. How had he- What time was it?

"Hey, you," he called out, attempting to flag down a pedestrian.

The man eyed him distastefully, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

God, he wished he had a coat.

"Sorry. No change," the stranger barked before rushing away into the night.

Change? Oh, come on . People these days. He shoved his hands further in his pockets, trying to warm them up in vain. They might as well have been two blocks of ice.

Home. He just had to get home. Had to... apologize. Probably twice, now. Once for running out. Another time for being gone all day. Yeah. That's what he'd do.

The rest of the way he kept trying to formulate an apology in his head. Sorry for slamming the door in your face. Sorry for disappearing so suddenly. Sorry for not coming back sooner. Sorry for not saving that little girl.

Sorry for letting you die.

Nah, he couldn't say it. Any of it, really. Maybe the part about being late. What time was it, again?

He entered the apartment building, taking the elevator back up to the fourth floor. Stopping in front of Red's door, he grabbed the handle, pulling a key from his pocket. His fingers fumbled over it, trying to jam it into the lock. It wasn't going in. Why wasn't-

His eyes caught the keychain, the name written on the label. Lia. This was the key to the Pierro house.

He hadn't taken the key to the apartment.

He stared helplessly at the door a moment, contemplating whether or not to knock. Never mind all the times he'd made fun of Red for getting stuck behind a locked door. He didn't really deserve to get to knock. Not after the way he'd acted today. There was probably somewhere else he could spend the night. A homeless shelter, the apartment lobby if it came down to it. But before he could walk away, the door clicked unlocked, swinging open.

She was on the other side, dressed in pajamas, but didn't seem to have slept. She'd probably been waiting.

"Red, I-"

She didn't let him finish the sentence.

It took a moment for him to register what had actually happened, the strange constricting feeling around him. A hug. She was-

She stepped back suddenly, breaking the embrace, eyes wide. "You're cold."

When was the last time anyone had hugged him? Even when he'd been alive. Who even was the last person he'd hugged? His mother?

"Like really cold," she continued, hand reaching for his forehead. "How long were you outside?"

"I... don't know," he mumbled.

"And soaking wet," she realized, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside. She sized him up for a moment, blinking a few times. "You're, uh, you're going to have to..."

"Hm?" It was rather cold, wasn't it? You'd think he'd be able to feel his hands by now.

"Joey, look at me."

He frowned, the motion itself feeling unnatural. "Sure, darling, whatever you say."

She looked awfully concerned. Was her hair always that red?

"You're going to freeze if you don't change."

"Ah." He slipped his tie off, a motion he'd done thousands of times, unaware of the fact he was still shaking. Technically her hair was orange, wasn't it? It wasn't literally the color red.

"Joey."

What? What was she still going on about? "Yeah?"

"I don't think we're going to go anywhere if I pull this."

"What are you talking abou..." He looked down to see that he'd handed the other end of the tie to her.

He'd walked over to her, tie hanging limply from his hand.

'Go on. Take it.'

She hadn't responded. How could she have? She'd already been...

'Take it!'

"Joey?" She'd let go of the other end of the tie, waving a hand in his face. "Joey, if you don't respond, I'm taking you back to Bellev-"

"I'm sorry," he choked.

"What?"

"I'm sorry . ...should've never trusted her. Should've... been more careful." Why had he just ripped her out of Red like that? He'd seen what had happened to the Countess. He knew what a gaping hole in someone's head could do. He'd been impulsive. Careless.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is," Red said, gently trying to ease him out of his suit jacket, but he could see her frown deepening.

She knew, didn't she? Knew he'd let her down. Nothing he could ever say would make up for...

"I kind of need you to cooperate, here," she said, tugging at his jacket again. "You're getting the couch wet."

He shouldn't have come back. Should've just faded away. Like his face in those old family photos.

"Look, I get that you're not used to being alive, but could you please stop trying to get yourself killed again immediately?"

"Yeah." He blinked, shrugging out of the jacket. "Yeah. I can do that."

He wasn't really sure of the details. Couldn't remember much at all. But at some point, she'd transformed him into a human burrito, wrapped in whatever warm thing the tiny apartment had to offer. She'd taken his temperature a few times, given him a steaming cup of... something.

He wasn't stupid. He'd seen the coffee stains on that mug. There was no way he was drinking out of that. But she'd insisted anyway, and he'd taken a reluctant sip if only to humor her.

"This isn't coffee," he stated.

"It's just water," she replied, pulling her desk chair over. "The Internet said not to give you caffeine."

"Right. The Internet. Of course." It was always the Internet. She'd poke away at that little hunk of plastic and come away with the answers to everything.

"You should really learn to use it, Joey. Especially now that you're alive."

He scoffed. "What, and you're gonna teach me?"

"I don't think I have a choice," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "No one else could put up with you."

"Huh. Yeah. That's... that's me, alright." What had Madeline said?

'Why you haven't driven your host completely mad is beyond me.'

Ah, yeah. That's what it'd been. And then he'd...

"Joey?"

Stupid. How could he have been so stupid ?

"Joey, please. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd take it so hard."

He shook his head. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

This was bad. This was really bad. Rosa didn't even know where to start. She'd managed to get him out of his shirt after a lot of gentle prodding, but even that had been ridiculously difficult. He just sat there, a hollow look in his eyes, damp hair sticking to his forehead, shivering. He looked closer to dead than when he'd been a ghost.

And sure, hypothermia was one thing, but the way he'd been acting just rubbed her as wrong . He looked... broken. And she didn't know what to do, let alone what to say. The questions just kept piling on, and yet she knew she couldn't ask any of them, lest he break down any further. If he'd been out there for just another hour or two, they would've found him the next morning frozen to death somewhere. And no one else would've known he had ever existed.

Why had he gone out, anyway? What could've possibly taken that long? And what on earth could be so bad that he'd end up like this?

She checked his temperature one more time, just to make sure he was warming up. 96. It was improving, for sure. The shell-shocked look in his eyes was slowly fading, eyelids drooping from exhaustion.

"Come on. You need to rest."

He shook his head. "Nn..."

Oh, he had to be kidding. "It's just my bedroom. You've been in there before."

"...been there... once."

Yeah. She still remembered. It had been the middle of the night.

'Joey?'

He'd poked his head in through the door, letting the rest of himself in when he saw how distraught she'd been.

'You okay?'

'Yeah. I just... had a dream.'

'Don't let it get to you, kid. It wasn't real.'

'With everything we see every day, it's hard to tell what is.'

'I know, Red. I know. I'm right here.'

With enough prodding she finally got him to move to the bed, managing to slip his pants off as he fell onto it.

"This isn't creepy. Not one bit," she muttered to herself, bundling up the wet clothes.

"Keep... telling yourself that."

She sighed, throwing another blanket over him. "Shut up. Go to sleep."

Grabbing a bottle of detergent on the way, she went down to the laundry room, shoving his clothes into an open washer. But as she did, something small fell out of the pocket of his jacket, clattering on the floor.

She bent down, picking it up. A key? Where did he get this from? She started the machine, leaning back to inspect the key closer. There was a label with a name attached to the keyring. Lia. The back of the tag seemed to have had an address written on it, but it had long been soaked to the point of being unreadable.

Who on earth was Lia? And then there was the matter of what he'd said earlier. 'I shouldn't have trusted her.' Was the 'her' in question Lia? It wasn't like she could ask Joey. On this one, she'd have to fly solo. She sighed, rubbing her eyes. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

A/N: One of two(?) chapter titles that pay homage to Return of the Obra Dinn! (I'm not sure about the number, I'm making these up as I go.) It's not related to the story or anything, I just really liked the game.