AN: Do I really have to tell you that this is related to the last…three? No. But you can stop posting now. Too late now, we're halfway through. Why can't you torture Killer Croc? Because you're more fun, and you're the right size to squeeze. I hate fangirls.
SwordStitcher-DON'T GIVE HER IDEAS! I am the Master of Fear, not the Master of Fashion! You know what? This is the ending-Granny dragged me to Hell and I'm posting this from the Devil's computer. There. SPOILED.
Just-Me-and-My-Brain-I do wish I could gas you all, find out your reactions. (And laugh at your despair...) Perhaps I shall conduct a survey. For practical purposes only, of course.
Jasmine Scarthing-As much as I would love to say there are no such things as long-legged beasties and boogey men, I have been banned from confirming nor denying your theories. (Spoilers...this is ridiculous, I ask you...)
God, he's exhausted. Between his sleepless nights and busy days, he's nearly dead on his feet. But sleep is a dangerous thing these days.
"Jonathan?"
"Mm."
"How is that comfortable?"
It's not. She's short and they're both skinny, but he's tired and she's warm.
"I don't know." He readjusts himself a little and rests his head on top of hers. Sleepy…
"I worry about you sometimes, love." Mm-hm. "You're going to hurt yourself if you don't get a full nights' sleep." No, he won't. "Maybe you should take a nap."
He shrugs and closes his eyes. He'll just stay right here, thank you very much…hey!
"Come on. Off to bed with you."
No. No, no, he doesn't want to go upstairs!
"But…Kitty…"
"Now. And you are not sleeping in that shirt."
What's wrong with the shirt? It's a nice, normal, button-up shirt like all the other ones in his closet.
"Why not?"
"Because you always complain if you fall asleep in it by mistake." So? That's by mistake. He won't be sleeping anyway… "Come on, take it off."
No. And she can't make him.
"No."
"Why not."
"Because."
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
Pfft. What's she going to do, jump on him?
Scratch that-yes. She will. She's done it before. Damn.
He sighs and shrugs his jacket off.
"That's better. Try to sleep, okay? I don't really fancy you dropping a vial and collapsing into a fear-induced coma for a week."
That only happened once, and it wasn't a week, it was two days. Accidents will happen, after all.
"I won't."
"Good."
She waits for him to get out of his shirt before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. If he leaves the room now, she'll drag him back in. He's stuck here for at least an hour. Joy.
He falls onto the bed, not even bothering with the blinds. The more light there is in this little wooden room, the better.
God, it's bright in here. He rolls over, grudgingly grateful that there aren't any buttons pressing into his ribs.
Maybe he'll just close his eyes for a few minutes…just a few minutes. What harm can that do?
"Jonathan. Jonathan! Wake up."
He feels his entire body twitch. Where is he, what's happening…right. Apartment complex. Nap. God, never again.
He gives himself a minute to try and relax, fails miserably, and tries to sit up. He meets with no resistance.
"Jonathan?" Oh, boy. Here they go. "Are you feeling all right?"
"No." Water, water…ah. Water. It's cold in here. Why is it cold in here?
"What's wrong?"
How can he phrase this, exactly? 'Oh, nothing much, just that my dead grandmother has come back to haunt me.'
Yes. That'll go over so well.
"Jonathan?"
"I don't know." He settles back under the covers. It's freezing in here! "Just insomnia. Forget I said anything."
She looks at him for a long moment. He wishes she wouldn't. She used to look at him like that, when she was debating what to do with him.
"All right, love." But she never called him that. "You know you can talk to me, right?"
She's going to drop it? Really, truly, drop it? She's never done that before!
Who is this and what have they done with Kitty?
"Yes."
"Good. Go take a shower and maybe go back to bed, all right? Maybe you're coming down with something."
Yes, like death.
He shakes his head and burrows further under the covers. He's somewhat safe under the covers.
"Come on. Out."
"No."
She pulls on his blankets and he squeezes them. He is not getting up, and that's final.
"Out."
"Never!" She pulls harder and he feels himself slide towards the edge of the bed. "Kitty!"
"Shower."
Fine. But he doesn't have to like it.
Two hours later, now rather sleepy from his shower, he's curled up on the ratty sofa. They forwent dinner in favour of Dairy Queen, but that's over and now his mouth is cold.
"Kitty?"
"Yeah?"
He could tell her right now. She might believe him, his sleep-deprived mind suggests.
"Never mind."
"I am going to grab a shower." she says. "Be right back."
He watches her leave before settling back under the blanket. It's warm down here now, the blanket is soft-it used to be fluffy, but that's a long time ago now-and he really could fall asleep.
He's drifting off when the light goes out. Faulty wiring…it has to be…he'll just get up and flick the switch down and then go on up to bed.
He gets the switch and is nearly out of the room when the light goes back on, just for a second, and then back off.
"I didn't see that." He swallows hard and starts upstairs. They really should move-faulty wiring leads to fires, and fires are bad.
Midnight. It's raining, as per usual. Kitty fell asleep a while ago, pressed up against his back with her hands locked in front of his stomach. He's still awake, trying very hard to keep his eyes closed.
The rain picks up and there's a flash behind his eyelids that says there's lightning now. Great. Maybe the Batman will be struck down mid-swoop. That would be funny.
He stretches a bit and wishes he could just go to sleep already. Maybe if he looks and reassures himself that there is nothing in that corner, he'll be successful.
The God of Fear, scared to look into the darkness! If this ever gets out, he'll have no choice but to go on a killing spree. He's never liked killing sprees-too messy, too Joker-esque.
Okay. He'll look. There's nothing there, and he'll prove it to himself.
Three…two…one…
He looks, just as a flash of lightning hits the room. He has never been so wrong.
She's there, standing in the corner with her can held primly in front of her. She isn't doing anything, she's just…staring at him.
She's not real. She can't be real, she's dead, he made sure of that…
So why is she standing in the corner, watching him?
Everything around him seems to disappear and for a long moment he's a little boy again in trouble for something.
She's not real. She's a hallucination. I'm overtired and overworked and maybe I inhaled a little too much toxin this afternoon.
Lightning flashes again and it seems to him that she's moved. A few more flashes and she's standing beside him, laying one birdlike hand on his head.
God help me.
He can't move, not that it will help him anyway. He has the sinking feeling that his toxins will not affect her, and Kitty's baseball bat is on her side of the bed.
"Jonathan."
What does she want, after all these years? Was she sent to drag him down with her? Is that even possible?
"Jonathan."
He tries to take a breath and finds that he can't. Then he tries to move-something, anything, even a finger-and can't do that, either.
The hand on his head moves and for a minute he thinks she's gone, but then it's on his throat, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing…
Then she's gone. Just…gone…and he's coughing, struggling to catch his breath.
He was right, all those years ago. She was never going to let him leave.
THE END