AN: Directly related to 'The Dark' and 'Nighttime'. Everything sort of snowballed. I loathe you. I know. I'm sorry. Lies. I let you get revenge a few stories ago, stop complaining. I had a dream last night in which you were killed by rabid dogs. It was nice. That's good. *smiling* Help me.
SwordStitcher- She… NO, don't ruin the suspense! So? So spoilers! Who cares? I care, and since I am playing God right now… You wouldn't. I would.
Jasmine Scarthing-She says I can neither confirm nor deny that statement because of 'spoilers'. Damn right. And thank you very much. :) Yes, yes, this is all very touching. It's sickening.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-How do you think I feel? Be nice. No. And you can't make me. Yes I can. Prove it. Hm. This could be difficult. That's what I thought.
Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Oh, how reassuring. I'm not going to kill you off, don't worry. I already did that elsewhere. That makes me feel SO much better. Really.
He sits on the bed, staring at the rain, and remembers another time, in another world, when he did the same thing. It was different then-he was usually locked in, waiting for her to make up her mind-forgiveness or birds?
Even now he can hear her coming down the hall-the heavy thump of her cane, followed by the soft shwish of her left foot, the one she'd broken chasing him through the cornfield one night.
The door opens and he turns, half-expecting to see her standing there to tell him her decision. She isn't there-of course she isn't, her bones are still in a rotting chapel hundreds of miles away.
"Jonathan?"
He can hear her voice, raspy and cold, like a witch from a fairy tale. Maybe she was a witch.
"Are you all right?"
But she never said those words to him, not that he can remember.
"Yes."
"You look off, love."
Something moves in the shadows behind her-a long black skirt, maybe?
"It's nothing."
She shuts the door and comes over, the clack-clack of her heels oddly reassuring. She never worse them, not after she fell. Maybe never before that, either.
"You haven't been sleeping well."
"No."
"Is something worrying you?"
He's never believed in ghosts, but he always knew he'd never get away from her.
"No."
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
He knows that, but how is he supposed to bring this up?
"Yes."
She hugs him, pulls back, and begins to undress. He drops back onto the bed and watches her start on her shirt buttons.
She would be less than pleased to know what he's doing. Why she would have cared for his spiritual well-being is beyond him.
"Eyes on my face." He jumps and she grins. "Only joking, love. Close the blinds though, will you?"
He reaches up to grab the cord. When he looks again, she's pulling a loose t-shirt over her head.
"You'll go to Hell, boy, mark my words!"
He blinks and shakes his head. No, no, she's not here, she can't hurt him anymore.
"You okay?"
"Yes."
"Bad dreams?"
"A little."
"Is it her?"
How does she do that?
"Yes. Sometimes." Every night, she's here, she's come back for me.
She sits next to him and makes him look at her.
"You tell her, if she comes back, that she had better march herself back where she came from or she'll be answering to me."
He appreciates the sentiment, but the fact remains that she isn't all that…well…impressive.
"Um…"
"I mean it! I have a baseball bat and I'm not afraid to use it!"
He raises an eyebrow and wonders why.
"Mm-hm."
"Don't make me prove it."
"Oh, I believe you."
He believes she'll use it. He doesn't believe it'll do any good.
"Good. Try to get some sleep, Jonathan, you'll hurt yourself one of these days."
Then the lights are off and her arms are around his neck. Once upon a time that would be enough to make him feel safe, but not tonight.
He can hear breathing in the corner of the room. He knows it's coming from there-it's the one place the bedside lamp won't quite reach.
You're not here, you're not here.
He hates that noise, that soft, death rattle-y noise. He remembers finding her asleep in her armchair once, and she made that noise. He'd run upstairs and hidden under the covers after that.
It stops eventually and he drapes his arm across Kitty's waist. There's nothing here, he knows there isn't. There can't be.
Kitty murmurs something and moves a bit. Yes, he'll be all right. Logically, he knows that.
But logic doesn't help him sleep.
THE END