A/N: I don't own Skulduggery, Darquesse or Valkyrie. Lawds yes, Val is still 24. Story is still her POV.

At the crime scene I donned the armour, hearing Skulduggery's faint murmur of approval. He gestured me over to his side, pointed down at the wet grass. We were in the middle of a wooded clearing. It was a bit creepy being there at night, even if I was dead. Alive. Whatever. "What do you see?" He asked.

"Nothing." I replied and he sighed in exasperation.

"Look harder."

"Grass then, but there aren't any patterns in it like something laid here or a struggle took place. There's no tears in the earth or loose sod. What am I supposed to be seeing?"

I heard him make an exasperated sound and looked up. His gloved hand was massaging the front of his skull.

"Valkyrie, exactly how are you looking? With your living eyes or your dead ones?" At his mention of my expanded abilities I felt the night explode into light and colour, saw something in the grass briefly, but I reeled back, covering my eye sockets and groaning in pain. Skulduggery caught me, rubbing my back soothingly, the other gloved hand supporting my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry! I forgot what it was like, how overwhelming-" I heard him make a frustrated sound, tried to lower my hands to look at him, then clapped them tight to my skull again. I'd seen the real him. Not the shell Darquesse thought was him. But the soul embodied in the skeleton, the real, living skeleton.

The sight hurt so much, was so overwhelming that I fell to my knees. But I could still see him as he really was, how much better he was than living eyes could see.

"No wonder you stare in the mirror all the time. That must never get boring." I growled. I lowered my hands and was able to look at him.

"Yes yes, it is wonderful to be as handsome as I am, as you are now. You must see me in the same way I see you." He said, utterly chuffed with himself. Skulduggery helped me up, continuing. "But again, I apologize. It wasn't fair of me to forget like that. I just expect you to have learned all there is to know already. About being dead, I mean."

"You mean being a living skeleton, don't you? Truly dead ones tend to fall to pieces." I pointed out.

"Well, yes-"

"How do you live like this, all of the time? Just the sight is overwhelming."

He patted my back in sympathy.

"You get used to it, you truly do. Now if your recovered, what do you see? Think of who we need to find."

I looked down, seeing a confusing pattern my living eyes would have missed. I swayed slightly, Skulduggery placed a steadying hand on me. I gulped for air I didn't need then spoke. "There are footprints. No, they're more like the ghosts of footprints, if that makes sense. They are light blue, translucent. Faint animal tracks run over them, so they are older... There are others, but there are the only ones that stand out. The killer's?" I asked.

He nodded. "Indeed they are." He said happily. "What else. What clues did the living detectives miss?"

I walked the area slowly, being careful where I stepped. There was a strange area in roughly the middle of the clearing. I bent down, touched the grass. I could feel the ghost of extreme cold and withdrew my skeletal hand, shaking it. "The grass, here's where the victim stood. The grass where he stood was torn off at the tips by the killer. I'm guessing it looks frostbitten, as if the extreme cold of his body affected it."

"Very good, Valkyrie. Now why would he bother to take the grass?"

"It is either part of a ritual, or he thought the living detectives might see it."

"Or?"

"Or the affect is only temporary, and he knew you'd see it. He knows you're on the case. How could he when you were called in after?"

Skulduggery smiled at me. "That, my dear Valkyrie, is an interesting question."

I fell asleep in the Bentley on the way to Skulduggery's house. He shook me gently when we arrived. We went inside and he turned to me in concern. "Are you all right? You're as white as a sheet. Can I get you something?"

I nodded. Apparently the armour's enhanced senses were draining, and I felt slightly ill, like I hadn't eaten. "Coffee. Food, if you have any."

He led me into the kitchen and I sat heavily. As he worked I wondered exactly why he had installed a kitchen. He never cooked that I could see, nor did he need one. I tried not to think he'd went to the effort just for me. Surely it was a practical, logical decision. Another of our unspoken rules was that I never thanked him or asked him about such gestures. I was to behave as if it was normal for him to refurbish large portions of his house, even if he'd never done it for his previous partners or friends.

The coffee appeared on the table. He gave me a brief smile, patted my shoulder tentatively. I smiled at him, letting him know I was OK. Skulduggery turned, seemed unsure of what he was to do next. "Mmm, there's really not much food left, to be honest. Ah, here, whatever these are." He dug in a cabinet and threw a packet of Pop Tarts on the table. I didn't mind them cold. His cooking skills were terrible, at best, and I had visions of him getting a gloved hand stuck in the toaster. He had a tendency to meddle that did not work well with cooking appliances.

Skulduggery sat down across from me, seemingly at a loss for words. Now that was different. He looked at me. "You, well, what do you feel with the armour on?" He asked.

"Everything my skin feels. In fact it is more sensitive. I can feel the heat and cold of where things were. How, I don't know. But I could feel the cold from where the victim was standing."

"I thought you could. It was unsettling you know, for me to learn that. I can feel pain as I told you, but other things too. It is almost like being alive again." His voice was soft.

"Skulduggery, I've told you a million times; to me you are alive. You aren't some inert skeleton hanging in an anatomy lab, are you?"

"Well, no, of course not. Though I find the parallel rather insulting." He huffed.

"Sorry about that, but that's my point exactly. You aren't a thing you're you. You aren't dead either, or you'd just fall apart."

"So you keep telling me." He answered, dryly.

"But why do you ask?"

He shook his skull from side to side, indicating he had no reason. But he never did anything without a reason.

"Oh. This is 'What did I learn about my mentor?' is it?" I asked and he nodded.

"Not a blessed thing. We can't assume my experiences match yours. Even if they do, I don't know how you'd feel about them."

"But you are me, in a sense, aren't you?"

"Well, OK then. You want an emotional response?" He nodded. "Once I got over the sensory overload it was wonderful. It was a little easier to be clinical about things, to examine the evidence. But that didn't mean I wasn't excited. I felt, well, I felt-"

"Yes?"

"I felt like I was you for a moment and I was extremely pleased with myself. Then I looked at you and was even more pleased with myself, because I was able to look at myself in you. God that sounds so egotistical."

He made an amused sound. "Anything else?"

"About the case?" He nodded. "No, I was to busy admiring you. I was aware there might be more clues and that I should really search more, but looking at you was better than looking in a mirror. Now that is egotistical."

"So you didn't notice the handprint where the killer leaned on a tree and waited for the victim to reach the clearing?" He asked with a sigh.

"Uh, no."

"And you didn't see all the areas where the pieces had lain?"

"No." I admitted.

He tsked at me. "Now my dear Valkyrie, and I say dear as in close to being mentally challenged, and therefore in need of my expert help and tender care, however are you going to be a detective if you keep missing vital clues like that?" My jaw dropped, and he ruffled my hair. "I'm teasing, you did extremely well, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering you aren't really me. Now go get one of those healing baths and some sleep. I'll look at the case files and see if the clues help shake anything loose."

"You know if I just put the armour back on I wouldn't need to sleep."

He shook his head. "It is certainly an asset, but look how much it drained you this time. No, you need training before you can wear it for extended periods. Agreed?" I nodded wearily, and he smiled, pleased with how easily he'd gotten his own way. I got up to leave.

"Valkyrie?"

"Yes, Skulduggery?"

"Sleep well."

"Thanks. Enjoy meditating." He snorted in response and I knew he wouldn't be meditating that night.