AN: Weird Valentine's Day thing that in no way jives with anything else. It wouldn't leave me alone...
APOLOGIES about everything being stopped. First there was pain (Mother Nature is a bitch) and then, well...I did warn you that publication prep trumped everything. Be back soon. :)
MissTreason-I scared them to death. He did not, that was later. With chemicals. True.
Christineoftheopera-You need help.
FlowerPrincessoftheUniverse-Hey! I was there to begin with!
It's warm, right on the cusp of blistering heat, but he's never minded.
Besides, he can't afford to mind. Granny's having a bad day, one of the ones that he just has to avoid her because she won't remember it tomorrow. She's chased him out here, shouting at him for who-knows-what, and he knows if she catches him that he won't be in class tomorrow.
She's feeling well today, unfortunately, and although he's mostly sure he lost her in the field, he can't be sure. He should move, but he doesn't want to risk running into her.
"Jonathan!"
...
That way. Okay.
"Hey!" He doesn't know that voice. "This way!"
He turns and catches a glimpse of a girl in white. He doesn't know her, and he knows everyone whether he wants to or not. Visitor?
"Come on!"
Visitor from England. He must be dehydrated...
Granny calls for him again, sounding closer this time, and he scrambles up and gives chase to the girl in the white dress. Maybe he's dehydrated, maybe she works for a serial killer, but she's not actively trying to kill him, so he'll follow her.
She's fast, faster than he is, and it's only because he can see the white that he can keep up with her. He doesn't notice where she's leading him until she opens the door of the house across the way and disappears into the dark, dusty hall. He stops cold, common sense kicking in and saying, hey, wasn't there a hitchhiking murderer on the news last week?
Granny shouts for him and he immediately decides that maybe hitchhiking murderers aren't that bad.
He steps inside and the door closes behind him. No one's lived here in his memory, and the place has fallen apart. The realtor comes by once in a while to make sure it doesn't crumble, but there's webs and dead mice and all sorts of nice things in here. He's never been inside at all.
Where did she...she was just here!
"Hello?"
"Shh, she'll hear you!" The whisper sounds like it came from the room over and he goes that way, trying to avoid the webs and dead beetles.
Sure enough, outside he can hear Granny calling his name, promising that he'll wish he'd never been born when she catches him. Bit late for that, isn't it?
There's the girl, though, peering through heavy curtains in a darkened, empty room. He has no idea who she is, and he should probably be nervous, but...
Oh, dear god, she's tiny. He's still short-hopefully that promised growth spurt will happen soon-but he could probably pick her up even now. She's probably not a serial killer, anyway, and if she is, he should be able to fight her off.
"I think she's gone." she whispers. "I don't see her now."
"Sorry, we haven't met..."
She gives him a look that he suspects has been on his face many times. The look says, are you always so stupid?
"You're Jonathan and I'm Kitty." she says, as though it should be obvious. "There, we've met."
"Um..."
She's gone. Where did she go, she was just here!
"Kitty?"
There's a noise in the hall and he whirls, expecting Granny. But she doesn't call for him and when he goes out, there's no sign that anyone was there at all.
The ground is hard beneath him, but he can't stand. The crows, at least, have left off, but he doubts Granny will be back tonight. She was furious, furious enough that he thought she might drop over of a heart attack.
He hadn't been so lucky.
He's terrified to move, lest he anger the birds, but he's stiff and he needs to loosen his clothing or he'll never get it off. He tries and promptly begins to cough, trying frantically to cough quietly. The birds, for their part, pay him no mind.
"Let it out, they won't hurt you."
Hadn't he dreamed her? Or imagined her, or...something?
She's in white still, hair falling loosely around her shoulders.
He'd like to disabuse her of her notion, but he can't even breathe and, funnily enough, the crows are not resuming their attack.
"Kitty?"
She's suddenly on his other side, drawing something in the dust with her finger.
"Where is this?"
Hell is an accurate answer.
"Complicated. How did you-"
She flickers, he sees it happen, and then she's across the room, looking at the fallen cross that has long since begun to break.
Maybe she's a ghost, an ancestor or just someone who died on the property? Or something in that house is cursed and he touched it...that would be just his luck.
He coughs again and falls back, shivering and wondering what time it is. Not that late...or very early. He's not sure.
She's beside him again, drawing something else in the dust. When he looks, though, there's nothing there.
"Here she comes." she says suddenly. He opens his mouth to ask how she knows that, but she's gone.
Two minutes later, Granny opens the door. Turns out it's one in the morning.
That night in the chapel turned a dry cough to a full-blown chest cold. He's lying in bed now, waiting for Granny to go to bed for the night so he can sleep somewhat safely.
He risked committing a grave sin-asking Granny a question-and asked about the girl in white. Usually, Granny has no qualms about telling him horror stories, but this time she gave him a look that was almost concerned and sent him up to bed.
Granny opens his door a crack and his eyes squeeze shut. He feels her watching him for a minute before she pads down the hall, leaving the door open. Damn it, now he has to get up...
Once her door shuts, he gets up and goes to close his own door, reaching it just as a flash of white appears on the stairs.
"Granny?" he whispers, knowing it isn't her but having to check. She doesn't answer, but downstairs a door opens. Is someone here?
He pulls on a robe and makes his way downstairs. The door that opened was the sitting-room's door-it's ajar even now.
"Hello?"
Another flash of white, just leaving through the other door. He glances up-no sound from Granny-and gives chase, nearly knocking a vase over on the way. His head hurts...
"Kitty?"
There's no one here. He checks the whole downstairs, but there's no one here. Fever...making him see things...he needs to be back in bed.
He curls back up under his blankets and is just about to take his glasses off when he spots her by the door. He'll admit, she gives him a bad scare.
"You-!"
She holds a finger against her lips. There's a brief creak from Granny's room and her voice reaches his ears.
"Jonathan!"
"Yes, Granny?"
"What are you doing?"
"Going to sleep."
She says nothing more. He's tempted to call her in, just to see if he's going insane, but...he'd rather not share his midnight visitor.
He looks back at her and sees that she's let her hand fall.
"What are you doing here?"
She looks at him and crosses the room.
"You're sick."
Maybe she's here because he's on the brink of death or something.
"Just a cold."
"You sound terrible."
His vision's blurry and he can only just make her out, despite the fact that she's standing right beside him.
"I..."
"Shh." she soothes. "Close your eyes."
He takes his glasses off, which only makes her blurrier, but doesn't do as she says. What if she leaves the minute he's not looking?
"Jonathan..." She sounds exasperated with him. "Go to sleep."
"But-"
"Shh." She kneels beside him. "You need to sleep."
Maybe it's because he's tired, or maybe it's because he doesn't want to make her mad-what if she never comes back?-but whatever it is, he closes his eyes, albeit grudgingly.
He semi-wakes twice, once to find her still here and once to find Granny bending over him with the thermometer in hand.
A week later, when the fever has passed, he's not sure if he saw her at all.
He eventually decides she must be a guardian angel. Rotten luck on her part, getting stuck with him.
He's not lost, he just...took a few too many wrong turnings trying to escape Bo Griggs and his band of baboons.
Fantastic. Arlen's woods are scrappy and difficult to get lost in, yet he's managed it.
"This way!"
He'd like, he decides, to catch her. If he can touch her than she's real.
"Wait!"
For once she stops, dress blowing in a nonexistent breeze.
"What?"
"I'm not..." There's no good wording for this. "I'm not imagining you?"
"What kind of question is that?" She flickers out and reappears just out of reach. "No."
He remembers Scarecrow, when he was seven, and shudders.
"My imagination's said that before."
"Well, that can't be healthy."
Scarecrow killed a crow, caught it and beat it against the ground until the head was half off. He doesn't remember anything about that, only finding the remains and hearing the echoing cackles as Scarecrow explained everything.
That had been the first time he'd really been frightened of him.
"No." He could probably catch her now, so long as he's quick. "No, I don't think so."
"Come on, it's getting late."
He lunges for her-
-and grasps empty air.
"Kitty?"
"You'll have to be quicker than that." she says from behind him. He turns, sees nothing, and turns back to find her thisclose. "Come on."
He tries to grab her hand and she blinks out, appears several feet away.
"This way."
He doesn't try to catch her after that.
He hasn't seen her in months. Maybe she was a dream, maybe he made her up, he's not sure. He only knows that, as far as he knows, she's gone.
Until he gets new neighbors.
He's sitting on the porch-Granny's napping-when he spots the moving van. Huh. What poor souls thought Arlen was a good idea? Probably retirees or something.
Still, the small-towner in him is nosey and he stays where he is, pretending not to care that he has new neighbors. Granny won't be pleased.
The van has been there for some time, apparently-there's already a woman on the porch, directing the movers. Every so often he can hear her shouting, "Be careful with that or I'll have your guts for garters! Kitty! Come here!"
He's never heard that in real life before. At least the new neighbors will be entertaining.
Hang on.
Kitty?
He quickly abandons his pretense of not caring and adopts a new one, that of 'helpful neighbor'. It's what they do here-materialize at doorsteps with lemonade and judgmental smiles.
He borrows the lemonade pitcher and is still working on a good, 'welcome to Arlen, my apologies for my boorish fellow residents' when he spots her.
She looks the same as she always has-white dress, hair loose around her shoulders.
"Kitty...that's not practical."
"What if there's cute boys?"
"You're not going out tonight anyway."
"Mu-um!" She suddenly points at him. "Besides, what'd you say about good impressions, huh? There's a one over there and you haven't tried to feed him."
What.
Before her mother can stop her, she's run off and met him in the middle. He has no idea what to say to her.
"Hullo, Jonathan."
"H-hi, Kitty."
She grins broadly at him and before he can prepare himself, she's leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Has your imagination ever done that?"
He's probably tomato-colored. Um...instant sunburn, happens all the time here.
"No?"
"Come on." she says. "This way."
THE END