A few hours later, they had gotten ready and were on their way to the restaurant. And Joey was starting to wish he'd never said anything at all.

"And you expect me to believe that?" Red asked, brow furrowed.

"Well, it's the truth, darling, take it or leave it." He was really hoping she'd leave it at this rate. God, she liked asking questions, didn't she?

"So we broke in to find out about one of Father Michael's friends."

"Yeah. Heather Goffstein."

"Who was also Tanya Corsey, the host of the Good Morning Show."

"That's what I said."

"And in the process, I fell off a dumpster."

"Uh huh." He nodded.

"Multiple times."

"Looked pretty painful."

Red sighed, shaking her head. "So Heather's ghost... split? Since when can they do that?"

"I don't really know. Like I've said, I was learning as I went along as much as you were."

She absorbed the information, frowning. "So what happened to them in the end?"

"We got them back together. Then, she was taken by Madeline."

"Taken."

"Yeah." He didn't really like thinking about that moment. A culmination of his failures in one horrible manifestation. First Heather and Peter. Then Michael.

Then Red.

He glanced at her briefly, but she seemed to be wrapped up in thought. It was probably for the better. There were fewer questions that way.

"Come on," he said, going ahead of her. "If we keep yammering on like this, we'll be late."

When they arrived, the restaurant was filled to the brim with people, the two of them winding around the restaurant until they found the table Nishanti was at.

"Oh, Rosa!" The woman stood up, a wide smile on her face. "And you were Joey, weren't you?"

He nodded, tipping his hat. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Sharma." Eh, if Red wanted him to put up an act, he could. 'Behave, Joey'. He would've rolled his eyes if it wouldn't clue her off.

"Well, any friend of Rosa's is a friend of mine." Nishanti leaned in a little closer to him. "Just between you and me, she doesn't have very many. I get worried."

He couldn't help snickering at that, despite the fact he could already feel Red glaring holes into the back of his head.

"Come, come, sit."

As they did, Red leaned in toward him, lowering her voice. "I'm going to kill you."

"Hey, I didn't even say anything yet." And yet he couldn't quite get the smile off his face. Maybe the old broad wasn't too bad after all.

"Have you been writing lately, Rosa?" Nishanti asked, smiling broadly. "It feels like we haven't spoken in forever."

"I, uh..." Red scratched her head.

Joey knew for a fact that she hadn't. Not since they'd sorted things with the Countess. Heh. The Countess. He could hardly remember when she was the biggest thing they had to worry about.

"I... haven't gotten the chance to lately, no."

The old woman was still beaming regardless. "Well, that's too bad. I was looking forward to having something of yours to read when I board my next flight."

Red laughed awkwardly. "Oh, well, the next time I write something, you'll be the first to know."

God knew when that would be. Joey instead decided to interest himself in the free bread. It was times like this that he could appreciate having a nose, he thought to himself, taking a whiff of the fresh-baked aroma.

"So, what have you been up to, then, Rosa?" Nishanti continued.

"I... I've been..." Red sputtered.

She didn't really have an answer, did she? All this time, and she still wasn't any better at lying. And it wasn't like the truth would make much sense either.

He could suddenly feel an arm nudging his side. "Joey, why don't you tell Nishanti what we've been up to?"

His hand froze in the middle of the process of spreading butter. "Eh..?" He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you said you didn't want me to-"

"Shh!"

Jesus, talk about mixed signals. He took another bite of bread, chewing in a faux thoughtful manner. "Red's been doing some freelance stuff. Sometimes she even gets paid for it."

"Joey!" She elbowed him, and he winced.

"Eh, but she's got a good noggin on those shoulders," he continued, rubbing yet another sore spot. "And sharp elbows. But give it some time. I'm sure there'll be something to write home about."

After this, at least, they wouldn't have to worry about chasing ghosts anymore. And they'd... move on. It was funny. He'd been doing this so long, he could hardly remember doing anything else. Maybe that was just part of being dead. All the ideas of living get left behind. It was only natural. It wasn't like death was a two-way street.

Well, usually, anyway.

Red seemed relieved he hadn't said more. But he was trying to be 'good', whatever that meant. He hadn't been planning on telling Nishanti about her hobby of picking up restraining orders or chatting to 'herself' in seedy places. Or breaking into places she wasn't meant to be in. Or stealing from old ladies. Or that one time she'd murdered someone.

"Well, that's nice to hear," Nishanti said, smiling fondly at them. "I'm glad to see you've found someone so supportive."

He could barely hold in the laughter as Red glared at him again.

"Oh, I'm very supportive," Joey agreed, putting an arm around Red's shoulders as she pouted. "You might even say I'd never leave her side. Metaphorically, of course."

Red rolled her eyes, looking away. He knew she was itching to rib him back, but he also knew that she cared far more about being polite.

"What have you been up to, Nishanti?" she asked, now deliberately ignoring him.

The old broad laughed. "Oh, well, you know me. I'm still going on my little world adventures. I just wanted to stop by for a little bit to check on Moti. You know how he gets. I'm glad I was able to catch up with you, too, Rosa."

Ah. So they could have flaked on her. Though saying that out loud probably wouldn't bode well for him.

"But enough about me, I want to hear about you! How did you two meet?"

Joey snuck a glance back at Red, who was not looking back. What was it she had said earlier? "College..?" He hadn't even gone to college. "We both had that... apple lady."

"Appleton. Gen-Ed writing."

"Yeah, isn't that what I said?"

"No, it's not."

"Well, it's been a long time, sweetheart." Try never. Come on, he was trying his best. It wasn't every day he had to put on a show like this.

Red sighed, only too glad to hide behind her plate of pasta when it arrived. Mission failed, then, Joey supposed. He was going to get an earful after this. Better enjoy the free bread while it lasted.

When they left the restaurant, Red looked a little more subdued than usual, shuffling her feet as they walked.

"Was I not 'good' enough, your highness?" he teased, in an effort to lighten the mood.

"No, it's not that," she said, evidently still distracted. "I was just... thinking. About life. My life, really."

Oh. So that's what it was. "Whatever it is, darling, I'm sure it's not that bad."

But she shook her head, walking ahead. "You said it yourself, Joey, a little while ago. Being a medium was the only thing I was good at. And now, now I'm not."

Well, in hindsight, maybe that hadn't been the best thing to say. "And I was terrible at being alive. Yet here we are."

"That doesn't bother you at all?"

"Sure it does." Quite a bit, to be completely honest. "But that's just part of life," he said, walking quicker to catch up with her. "We'll figure it out."

"It won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is, darling."

She stopped walking for a moment, looking down at her feet. After a few seconds, she chuckled, turning toward him. "Welcome to the twenty-first century, Joey."

"Eh?" He tilted his head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked as she started walking again, seeming to revel in his confused expression. "You'll see."

They arrived at the nightclub about ten minutes before eight. Rosa couldn't help scanning the crowd outside warily as they walked toward the building. The local populace consisted of goth and punk kids, the streaks of bright color in their hair seeming to glow under the neon lights that seemed to pulse from every inch of the exterior. The rest of the building itself didn't look any more inviting, the sinister angles of its architecture illuminated only by the blinding lights that flashed from the gothic-style windows in time with a low bass that thrummed through the night. If anything, this was usually a place she'd avoid at all costs.

Joey looked pretty out of his element, too. His hat was tipped a little lower than usual, hands in his pockets. In his suit, he looked more like a security guard than a patron. Though even security was more casually dressed.

"So," he said, sizing up the place, "instead of spending our nights at haunted joints, you decided to find the first place that looks haunted."

"I'm not the one who picked it out." She honestly didn't want to be out of the house at all. After their trip to the park, nothing sounded better than some quality time in the warmth of her apartment.

Joey stared up at the neon sign, twisting his mouth in distaste. "Well, let's just do what we've gotta do, then."

Rosa could feel the bass booming in her chest the instant they walked in, loud club music drowning out her senses. Joey looked about as pleased as she felt to be there, eyes narrowed and hands shoved into his pockets as he scanned the occupants of the room.

She heard him try to yell something over the music. Something about her face?

"What?" she yelled back. "I can't hear you!"

"Are you sure this is the place?" he tried again. "Kind of a terrible place to meet people, if you ask me!"

"I just followed the address!"

"Huh?"

Oh, this wasn't going to work. "Forget it!"

He shrugged, going back to looking around.

Rosa scanned the crowd as well, but no one seemed to be waiting for anyone. They were all lost in their own worlds, dancing or drinking or talking. She had a sinking feeling their contact wasn't going to be here at all. Joey probably felt the same way. She glanced back at him, only for their eyes to meet.

He blinked a few times, quickly averting his gaze to the rack of liquor behind the bar.

"You gonna get something?" she teased, and he looked back, raising an eyebrow. Hm. Not going to give in, was he?

"Maybe I am." He walked over as if to prove a point, and she followed.

It was slightly quieter by the bar. Enough so that conversation wasn't painful, at the very least.

He glanced back at her one more time before waving the bartender over. "Just get me something stiff." A few moments later, a glass of whiskey was slid across the bar, and Joey picked it up, swirling the ice in the glass before taking a sip. "I can't believe this stuff classifies as music."

"Well, people like it."

He scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Spend more than fifteen minutes in this place and you'll go deaf. I'm starting to think they make it as loud as possible in an attempt to feel anything."

They'd already been here for longer than fifteen minutes, but she refrained from mentioning it. Instead, she rolled her eyes, sighing.

"Are we just going to sit here until your contact shows up?"

With the way this was going, they were going to be here for hours, but it wasn't like they had any other leads at the moment. "We might as well give it a little longer. We're here, after all." Not that it was either of them's usual scene.

"I suppose you're right." He was looking at her again, an uncharacteristically intent gaze clouding his expression. "Do you want anything?"

She laughed at the idea. "Not unless you want to recreate what happened the last time I drank." At the very least, it wasn't something she wanted to recreate. God, even the thought of it got her embarrassed. But maybe she was a little thirsty. "On second thought, maybe a soda?"

He pondered this before signaling for service again. "Shirley Temple for the lady." As the bartender left to make the drink, he turned back to her. "You know, that girl was around before I died. Not for long, of course, she'd barely been born, but..." He sighed. "I tried piecing together the things I'd missed when I got tied to your grandmother. It was basically the only thing I could do since she wouldn't talk to me, anyway." He took a longer sip of his drink. "And now that girl? Shirley Temple? She's dead. Of old age."

"And you don't think you deserve to be here."

He didn't answer, silently passing over the aforementioned drink when it arrived, which was about as much confirmation as she was going to get. She supposed the conversation was over. Another glance at the door confirmed that no one had entered since they had, and since no one had walked up to them yet... She sighed, sipping her soda through a bendy straw. It was going to be a long night.

An hour later, Joey had polished off another two glasses of whiskey, frown deepening with every sip. Rosa's glass wasn't much more than just ice, the cubes slowly melting at the bottom. Evidently, their contact wasn't going to show up. She glanced back at him, still bent over the empty glass. They should probably go before he ended up drinking away her entire wallet. But before she could say anything, he stood up, holding out a hand in her direction.

"Dance with me."

Well, that was unexpected. She looked up at him, surprised. His eyes almost looked darker under the pulsating lights. Like there was nothing he'd rather be looking at. And yet, she had the feeling that if she said anything, it would all fall apart. That he would fall apart. So she took his hand.

He led her to the quietest spot on the dance floor he could find, gently transitioning into the first few steps of a waltz as he put a hand on her waist.

"This isn't how people typically dance in a club, Joey," she murmured, trying to keep up with his pace. He wasn't even moving quickly. God, she was terrible at dancing. It was enough of an effort to even stay on her feet. But he somehow accounted for all her stumbling, movements firm and calculated, particular care behind every step.

"Sure," he conceded, eyes never leaving hers. "But we don't really go with the grain, do we?"

"No," she agreed. "We don't." Normalcy had been out the window for a long, long time. And yet being here at this moment? It felt right. Maybe it didn't even matter if the lead was a dud. She was surprised, really. Despite the slight intoxication, he was acting like the perfect gentleman. She honestly didn't think he had it in him. Especially after the dinner they'd just had.

He was moving like he'd done these exact steps a thousand times, to the point he could put all his focus on her. Maybe he had. It was probably something he'd learned in his old life. Before he'd ever been a spirit guide. It honestly just reminded her how little she really knew about him. "I didn't know you could dance."

He smiled briefly. "Not too many people to dance with when you're dead."

"And now?"

"Now, I've got you."

It was interesting, in a way. They were surrounded by people, yet no one bothered to give them a second glance. Maybe that was the appeal of places like this. Usually, she'd prefer somewhere quieter, but for now? This would do. She studied his face, trying to write every detail of the moment into her memory. This would definitely do.

As the song neared its end, well, what Rosa assumed was the end, anyway, Joey led her through a few more dance steps before he dipped her gently, pausing. He held the pose a moment, brow furrowing as his breath hitched.

"I'm going to hate myself for this," he said under his breath, voice trembling. Before she could figure out what he meant, he brought her closer, leaning in.

The taste of warm whiskey filled her mouth as their lips met, her eyes widening in shock before she wrapped an arm around his neck and closed her eyes, deepening the embrace. She wasn't sure how long they were there like that, but when he broke it off, whatever hint of regret that had been in his eyes had evaporated.

"Red..."

She straightened his hat, trying to smile in as a reassuring way as possible. "It's alright."

Cautiously, he pulled her to his chest, sighing. "God, I just... Do you really think we can fix this one? I know that you and I have been through a lot, but..."

"We will," she murmured. "We have to."

With that said, he stepped out of the embrace, arms lingering on hers a moment longer. "Let's get out of this dump, huh?"

She nodded, and they wove through the masses of people dancing on the floor and headed out the doors, leaving the sights and sounds of the club behind them.

The icy air hit Rosa's face like a slap to reality, the magic of the moment dissipating as fast as the heat from her body into the night. She pulled her coat in a little tighter, shivering.

"Cold?" Joey asked, in an oddly genuine manner.

"I'll be okay."

"Whatever you say." But he wordlessly put an arm around her anyway. "We're not too far from your place. If we cut through the park on the way, we'll get there faster."

It was weird to have him act so... caring . If he was always like this when he drank, maybe he should do it more often. Reduced inhibitions. Wait, so did he always feel this way? Before she could ruminate on that thought any longer, he stopped in his tracks, eyes trained down an alley like a deer in the headlights.

"Maybe I'm just a little too drunk, but..."

She followed his gaze to the end of the alley, where a faint, wispy thing hovered slowly up and down, vaguely in the shape of a person. "No, I see it too."

"It's a spook, isn't it?" he said, confirming her suspicion. "We can see it."

"Yeah. Whatever happened with the ritual..."

"Heh. Well, Kevin was worried about side effects, wasn't he? There we go."

The featureless wisp continued to hover, a faint ghostly wail emanating from it. It was kind of creepy, to be honest. Even with having dealt with as many ghosts as she had. "Do you think it can hear us?"

"I guess it's worth a shot."

"Hello?" she called out, stepping toward it. "Can you hear me? We're here to help." Well, kind of. There wasn't much they could actually do anymore. Joey seemed to realize the same, and he'd started pacing around the alley, agitated, hands buried deep in his pockets.

She turned back to the ghost. "Are you okay?" If it had heard, nothing about the way it acted indicated it.

"Sure, I knew they were always still there," Joey muttered, stepping the snow beneath his feet into gray mush, "but now we can see 'em again. And I'm not entirely sure that's a good thing."

She turned her attention back to him. "It's one step closer to our goal."

"And what about afterward?" he spat, shoulders shuddering with rage. "If we even get out of this in one piece, then what? These spooks will all still be here. Waiting for someone that will never come." His voice dropped at the last word, expression falling.

But he wasn't entirely right. Not this time. "They won't be here forever."

"How can you say that?" he asked, incredulous. "You know they're not going anywhere without a Bestower. Without us ."

"We weren't alone." She'd pieced it together a little while ago, but it made sense in retrospect. "I don't think we ever were."

Joey stopped walking. "What do you mean?"

"Father Michael. He's one of us now. Maybe not in the traditional sense, since he and Madeline aren't actually saving anyone, but it means that I wasn't the only one. There could be two Bestowers at once. More even. Did you ever think about the ghosts in every other city? Around the world?"

"Of course I have."

"Then you know there are probably even more out there. More Bestowers. More spirit guides. In some time, there'll be another pair in New York. The ghost won't be here forever."

He absorbed the words, still staring at the wisp. "And this doesn't feel wrong to you? To just walk away?"

"What other choice do we have?"

The ghost continued to float and shift around as Joey watched it, his expression unreadable. "I suppose you're right." Adjusting his coat, he turned away. "Come on, then. I don't want to look at it any longer than I have to."

They continued walking back in silence, along the darkened streets. They had gotten to somewhere in the middle of the park before anyone spoke again.

"Joey?"

"Uh huh?" He still seemed bothered about the ghost, shoulders drawn in, head bowed. Not that she could blame him. He'd been one not too long ago.

She cleared her throat before speaking. "Do you think it's possible that our contact meant for us to see the ghost, and that's why they picked that club?"

"Maybe. Maybe they meant for that to happen. Or maybe they just flaked, and we were unlucky."

"What, after what happened tonight, you still think you're unlucky?"

The hint of a smile cracked on his face, the first time he'd done so since they'd left the club. "Not entirely. As long as I've got you with me."

She extended a hand and he took it, smiling a little wider now as they continued walking.

They hadn't gotten very far when he suddenly stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"Joey?" She grabbed onto him, trying to prop him back up. "Are you okay?"

"I..." He put a hand to his head, leaning his weight on her. "Not really."

"How do you feel?"

He tried to shrug, body slumping around. "Drunk..?"

He really hadn't drunk that much. It didn't make sense for him to... She could feel something hard pressed against her side, and she reached for it, coming away with a small pill bottle. Pain medication. Oh, crap.

"Joey. Didn't the doctor tell you not to drink alcohol?"

The odd slumping motion again. "...Probably?"

She really wished he'd stop doing that. It was hard enough trying to keep him standing when he wasn't moving. "And yet you went and did it anyway."

He chuckled at about half the speed he'd usually do so. "Let a guy... live a little."

And die a little, too, apparently. Ugh. Why did he have to be so difficult to take care of? "Let's just get home, okay?"

"Now that's ... a good idea."

She was practically dragging him now. It was good that they weren't far from the apartment, otherwise, she wasn't sure if she'd end up collapsing as well. Maybe a gym membership would be a good idea after all. She had the time now, for one thing. She looked back down at Joey, his eyes mostly closed. Or maybe not.

"You know, Red..." he mumbled into her shoulder, "I... like you."

"I know, Joey," she said, trying to reposition his dead weight leaning on her. "I know."

He didn't say much after that, which was probably a good sign that she should be moving faster. She kept checking periodically whether he was actually still conscious, never actually sure if he was or not. He definitely wasn't by the time she unceremoniously dumped him on the bed with the last of her energy. What a way to end the night. She moved him over enough for herself to get a space on the bed, lying down.

Actually, now that she thought about it, besides the ghost, today had been normal. So unbelievably... mundane. No breaking and entering, no dragons, no staying out at obscene hours roaming the streets. She looked back at Joey, chest gently rising and falling as he slept off his mistake. Maybe she didn't mind if things stayed this way. Warmth blooming in her chest, she snuggled into his side, closing her eyes.

A/N: Fun fact time!

For me, at least. It's fun to write these.

The real fun fact from the last chapter was that we passed the halfway point. So I guess this is... extra past the halfway point?

Anyway, the entire nightclub scene, from when Rosa and Joey enter, to the point when they walk away from the ghost, was written in a disjointed spur of inspiration like- way before the rest of the chapter. I basically plopped it into its rightful spot when I got there.

Fun fact two? I chose for Joey to have never attended college because although in the 20's (which I just guesstimated), going to higher education was becoming more popular, he worked what I think(?) qualifies as a trade job, which generally doesn't require attending university.