The one with the fluff is on its way. Just not today. About what's going on with Mich… I don't know if I'd label her a 'ghost'. It's less that she's there in a haunting capacity, more that part of her wasn't ready to move on. Kind of like a guardian, if you will. I don't really know, myself. I hope you understand what I'm going on about.

Inspired by Warg's comment. "Wash might be convinced that ghosts aren't real, but it would offer a lot of comfort to Cal if he could observe them - and probably to Mich, too. Hopefully reasons for his semi-recovery here soon?"

I guess it's soon.


Semi-Recovery: Ghosts That Linger

"We're two of a kind,

Silence and I,

We'll find a way to work it out."

-Alan Parsons Project, Silence and I


Tonight, as always, I sit on the foot of his bed and watch his chest rise and fall rhythmically. This time I'm ready for when Cal lurches upright, eyes wild as the clinging fingers of the dream twist and warp the dark room.

Now that I can speak, I reach out and touch his hand. "I'm here, you're safe," I say gently, voice barely above a whisper.

He brings his hands to his forehead, fingers sliding through mine without even knowing.

I scoot up the mattress and lean on his shoulder. I just wait for him to calm down, wishing there was something to do. My head rests on the wall behind us. I glance sideways. "You know, this would be so much easier for both of us if you knew."

As I expected, Cal gives no sign of having heard me or acknowledging my presence.

I used to think ghosts were kind of freaky. Nothing like the stubborn souls of the dead hanging around in the house. But now… if what I am is a ghost… it's just sad. If this is how other people feel in my position - caught somewhere between moving on and being trapped, watching the only person I care about but unable to make any kind of impression - then they feel nothing but hollowness.

I mean, I feel sad. Not because I'm… not alive anymore, don't get me wrong, I miss life. I miss the small things the most. Leaving footprints after walking through a puddle, being able to get people's attention. Anyone noticing when I enter a room. Having a conversation. But it's more that I'm stuck in this weird limbo of being able to interact with the world and not being seen, heard or felt by everyone. I'm forced to watch and not be able to comfort Cal.

I heave a resigned sigh.

His head snaps up and he looks around warily.

The sudden reaction makes me sit up. "Did you… hear that?" I ask, not really expecting an answer.

Cal surprises me again by slowly nodding. "Mich?"

I trail a finger down his arm, watching in awe as my barest touch raises goose bumps. When my hand reaches the bed, I realize there's a more solid-looking Cal still laying in beside us. Is this… Is he still dreaming?

He follows my gaze and shivers. "Are you actually here?" he breathes.

I nod. "No, I'm… I'm here." After so long being ignored, I don't even know where to begin.

Before I can even process it, his arms are around my shoulders, holding me close. He buries his face in my hair. Slowly, hesitantly, I hug back.

"I just… God." Cal's body shakes and he cries softly.

I run my hands over his back, gently rubbing. There's so much to say, so much I want to tell. But for now, this is enough.

"Cal," I say, voice stronger now that I have a reason to use it, "Cal, I'm so sorry."

Sniffing, he nods. One hand comes up to my neck. He flinches slightly when he doesn't find a pulse there.

"I should have told you every day when I could," the words come easily, I've had so long to think about them, "I love you."

I slowly push him away and direct his head until we're eye to eye. "I love you, understand?"

Cal nods again. "Love you too," he croaks.

While not romantic in any way, it's enough. I smile wistfully. We could have had so much. "I didn't want to leave you. I don't know if you'll even remember this, but I don't think it'll happen again. Okay?"

"Okay." He takes a shuddering breath, realizing this is the last time we'll speak to each other. The last time he'll see me. "Okay."

"I want you to know that I'm… all right. That I'm here, even if you can't see me and I love you so much." Driven by something unfamiliar, I reach up and scratch the back of his head lightly.

The action is received with closed eyes and small… purring noises in his throat. For a moment, I'm reminded of a cat. A weak smile, earnest and small, plays around his lips. In the moonlight washing through the room, Cal is the most handsome I've ever seen him. Before I can let that thought be tainted by reasoning why I'm doing this to him, that this might cause more pain when I really can't reach him any longer, I tip his head down. I fit my mouth to his and kiss slowly.

When I finally pull away, a look of pure bliss is painted across his features. Yes, this was the right thing to do. I press my lips to his jaw before switching from scratching to stroking his hair. "Go back to sleep now," I say softly.

Obediently, Cal lays back down, matching up to his body. His eyes stay open though, well aware that as soon as they close, it'll be the last he sees of me.

I slide down and curl into his chest comfortably. "I'm not leaving," I promise, choking a little on the words.

He sighs. "It just feels like it."

I nod and keep running my fingers through his hair. "It didn't hurt, you know," I tell him. "It's easier than falling asleep."

Cal kisses my forehead before touching his to the exact spot. I meet his eyes for a long moment.

"Sleep," I say, drawing the word out soothingly. "I promise I'll be here in the morning."

Reluctantly, he closes his eyes and sighs. "I love you," he says.

"I know you do." I lightly brush my lips over his one more time, whispering, "I love you, Cal."

Gradually, his tight hug slackens and his breathing settles again. A deep, calming tiredness sweeps over me. Maybe this is how this will go. Over time I'll start feeling almost normal, as he does. I let my eyes close too.


"I had a strange dream last night," Cal explains to York in the morning, voice wavering but not in danger of dissolving into tears for once. "She was here, in my room. She…" He shakes his head. It's almost as if he's afraid to admit what happened. But I'm fine with that.

I smile at him and play with his spoon out of their sight until Cal needs it to go back to shoveling Cheerios into his mouth ravenously.


The nights slip by. I notice his nightmares seem to fade with time. Almost two weeks after arriving in Texas, Cal sleeps through the night soundly. The progress is mirrored in the daylight. Rather than sit alone, he gets involved in conversations with a shadow of his old humour.

I don't miss how his eyes stray through the room as if searching for me.

Even when I'm sitting right next to him.