A/N: Phew. Hi there. XD Yes, this update is two months late. I'm not going to bore you with the details as to why, but if any of you are interested in knowing what took me so long to get this update uploaded, there is a note on my FF profile you can go check out. It should explain everything, albeit a little vaguely. But yes, I have had problems which delayed the conception of this chapter for quite some time, forcing me to adopt a temporary writing schedule that left me focusing on one fic at a time per update date order. However, things have since settled down enough that I have upgraded to working on two fics at a time, allowing me to finally get this chapter written and oh boy... Have things changed quite a bit since my last author's note. XD

Regrettably, I must inform you all that while Chapter 17 should have been the end to episode two... it is not. Upon reflection, I realised that 5,000 words per chapter works well for this particular fic, and that I need to stop worrying too much in sticking to chapter limits. After all, I favour quality over quantity. I'd rather release a lot of chapters that explore my OC and the canon cast in good depth than try to cram things into one chapter. Plus, we have a lot of characters crammed into one scene here, so... it was inevitable that I was going to need an extra chapter to conclude things, I think. XD So yeah, I am aiming to use chapter 18 to end episode two, because all that chapter should do is just tie up the conclusion of what's happened here. But again... don't hold me to that. XD

In the meantime, thank you to everyone who has been reading this story (nothing else has changed since last time, so I won't acknowledge it for now). Your continued support is greatly appreciated. As always, there are extra notes at the bottom of the chapter if anyone is interested in the reasons behind the creative choices I made in this chapter. And don't forget that this fic can also be found over on AO3 under the same title and username, if you need to find it elsewhere. I don't know when I'll have the next chapter up, but I will try to aim for a month to two months going forward. But until then, I hope you all enjoy the next chapter. I think you're going to like this one. XD

Chapter 17: Meddling Mediator

Cordelia bolted up the stairs to the east wing with the head of Humphrey secured snuggly in her hold, her usually ghostly pale skin flushed a steaming scarlet. The heat rushed through her spectre being and furiously boiled away from her head to her toes, her destination and goal as clear as day.

'Michael is the reason why Alison is struggling to believe we are real. And while he cannot perceive us in the same manner as Alison can, he is still able to perceive any worldly matters we interfere with. My ghostly capabilities cannot be dismissed as mere trickery. If I can convince Alison to have her husband witness me using it upon a physical object, it should remove both Alison's doubt and Michael's doubt of our existence.'

Upon reaching the landing opposite the ballroom, Cordelia swore she heard another pair of footsteps synchronised with hers approaching from the direction of the living people's bedrooms.

'In turn, I realise this will have consequences with my invisible associates. Conflict will arise and I shall be granting them an opportunity to further disturb my peace and solitude by exposing my 'ghostly gifts' to them.' A defiant cry echoing through the walls quickened Cordelia's dash with a scowl. 'However, I now recognise that a sacrifice must be made for the greater good of Button House. The charade was not going to last forever, yet at least I can expose it on my own terms.'

The Victorian ghost barely made her way over the threshold before the screecher darted in through the doorway to the blonde's right; Alison, Cordelia quickly identified, now changed into a pair of dark blue overalls and an orange shirt. The moment their eyes locked, both Alison and Cordelia skidded to an abrupt halt, the former of the pair stumbling backwards in the direction of the windowsill and instinctively shielding her face with her arms.

"Oh my god!" Alison breathlessly exclaimed out of shock, prompting Cordelia to raise one of her palms and back up a couple of steps. The Victorian woman said nothing, granting the living woman a moment to pull herself together and lower her arms with an exasperated huff. "I wish you'd all stop coming out of no— Head!"

Alison cut herself off with a shriek and recoiled her side further towards the wall at taking notice of Humphrey, briefly burying her face into it to avoid making eye contact. Cordelia's eyes widened upon remembering she was still holding the Tudor man's head against her front and the short déjà vu it gave her, while Humphrey remained unfazed by the living woman's frightened reaction, offering Alison a polite smile and greeting.

"Why, hello again!"

Cordelia regained her composure by forcing a cough into the knuckles of her free hand. "My apologies, Lady— Alison. It was not our intention to frighten you." The blonde-haired ghost scanned the furniture in the ballroom until her eyes settled on one of the nearby windowsills, briskly walking over to it. She didn't wish to scare Alison anymore. "Pardon me, Humphrey."

"No worries!" the Tudor head cheerily piped up as Cordelia gently put him down on his left side, allowing him to face the ballroom and see what was going on without getting in Alison's way. "I'm here if you need me."

Now free to clasp her hands to the folds of her skirt once more, the Victorian ghost returned her attention to Alison resting her back to the wall and rubbing a palm at her chest with heaving breaths, clearly trying to calm down. But before Cordelia could even question if Alison was okay, faint and rambunctious chatter from the multiple voices of the other ghosts resounded through the corridors back the way Alison had just come, along with their hurried footsteps.

'Dear lord. Why must their movement together be reminiscent of a herd of charging elephants?'

But at least Cordelia had her confirmation that the other ghosts were behind Alison's previous distress.

Cordelia heard Alison release a sound that was a cross between a whimper and a despaired moan as she turned to face the brunette woman, watching her dig her fingers into her scalp and lean her head back against the wall.

"What's it going to take to get the cast of 'The Night of the Dead' to leave me alone?! Drugs?! Therapy?! A bang on the other side of my head?!" The further Alison vented, the more Cordelia could hear her voice start to crack, the living woman's breathing quickening and deepening in turn. If Cordelia still had a beating heart, she could imagine it cracking in two at seeing Alison furiously running her fingers through her hair, her eyes squeezing shut. "I just want someone to tell me I'm not mad…"

Cordelia's eyes flitted to the vase on the table at the far end of the ballroom, the same one she recalled Julian attempted to move during 'Operation Haunt'. With her plan still in mind, she inhaled deeply through her nose and out again through her mouth, her decision made.

"You are not mad," the blonde-haired ghost stated firmly to Alison, the words leaving her lips without a single ounce of hesitation.

From her peripheral vision, the Victorian ghost thought she caught Humphrey smiling proudly at her, yet she paid it little heed when Alison cautiously lowered her hands from her head and huffed.

"Of course you'd say that," she muttered despondently. "You're in my head."

"I am not," Cordelia defiantly replied and lifted her chin to the air. "None of us are. And I can show you." Ignoring Alison's surprised blink, the ghostly woman looked to the left and right of the ballroom. "Do you know where your husband is at present?"

"Mike?" Alison questioned, prompting the living woman to briefly glance to the corridor leading to the second floor's west wing. "Uh… I think he's taking a look at the boiler in the cellar. Why?"

"I would like to request that you bring him to the ballroom."

"What? Right now?"

"Yes."

"What does my husband have to do with this?"

"There is little time for me to elaborate in detail. But I promise it will all make sense once you fetch him."

"And why should I?" Alison folded her arms and straightened up against the wall, cautiously glancing Cordelia over from head to toe. "How do I know you're not just stalling me until your friends arrive?"

Cordelia's resolve didn't waver, her chest puffing out and her shoulders raising as she placed her hand to her chest. "Because you said it last night, from your own tongue, that I am not like the other 'imaginary people', that I was different. And deep down, through the tumultuous thoughts plaguing you at this very moment, I know part of you believes that. Because if that was not true, you would not have made the decision to listen to me, would you?"

As Alison speechlessly stared her down and frowned at her words, a gentle and cool wave of a feeling indescribable to Cordelia washed over her entire body, temporarily calming the raging fire burning away under the surface of the Victorian woman's non-existent skin. Cordelia didn't know what this was nor what it meant, yet it seemed to patch up the hollowness she usually experienced in her chest for the briefest of moments, her shoulders lowering like a great burden had just been lifted from them.

This wasn't the first time she'd spoken her thoughts so articulately, so freely, since she'd begun her afterlife. But unlike all those other times… this one was definitely different. Why, Cordelia wondered. Perhaps because she was accomplishing a feat that seemed impossible when Heather was still alive? She couldn't be sure at this time. Still, it was a feeling she welcomed with open arms; it was a small sign she was going in the right direction for once, after all.

When Alison stayed silent and turned her eyes to her shoes, Cordelia dared to step closer and deepen her frown, prepared to resume her spiel now that the shackles of her own voice were unlocked.

"I have been where you currently stand, Alison," she said gently. "The fear of accepting the improbable, its constant battle with denial, the disbelief and the confusion surrounding your sanity, the loneliness of discerning what is real and what is not—you can believe I know it all too well."

The Victorian woman momentarily paused when Alison slowly lifted her green eyes to Cordelia's calm blue ones, her relaxing brow acting as a physical sign that the Victorian woman was getting through to her once more, just as she had done last night, spurring Cordelia onward.

"The thought that you can see and speak with those who are no longer part of the living realm… it is absurd. At one time, I certainly believed it to be so. But eventually, my sanity was saved from being consumed by own turmoil with a little help from those who were willing to offer it, which is what I wish to give to you." Cordelia closed her eyes and curled her hand into her chest, her shoulders hunching a little as it aligned with where her stab wound was between her shoulder blades. "I know it is difficult for you to completely trust me, but I can assure you I only want to give you closure to your dilemma." Cordelia opened her eyes again, her voice lowering to a pleading whisper. "All I ask is that you put your faith in me. Please, Alison."

It was around this time that the footsteps approaching the ballroom grew louder, drawing Cordelia's and Alison's attention to the wall on their right. The remaining ghosts phased through into the ballroom at the same time, continuing to talk loudly over each other and stay clumped together as they each scanned different areas of the room for any sign of Alison.

'Curses. What dreadful timing.'

Mary was the first one to lock eyes with Cordelia and Alison, causing the former's eyes to widen when the peasant woman perked up and pointed in their direction.

"Oh! There she be!" she shouted, causing the group to fall silent immediately and follow Mary's gaze to where the pair were stood. "Cordelia got 'er!"

"Yes, thank you, Mary," the Captain acknowledged, then proceeded to tilt his chin up to the ceiling and clasp his baton behind his back at focusing on Cordelia. "Jolly good thinking, Cordelia! You've got the enemy insurgent cornered!" The World War 2 veteran started to march his way over to the two women, prompting the other ghosts to hurry after him. "Stand aside now. I can take it from here."

But just as the Captain got within range of Alison, the latter of whom instinctively pressed her body into the wall and warily eyed his approach, Cordelia stepped straight into the Captain's path and spread her arms out on either side of her, causing the ghosts to stop (or stumble, in some cases) in their tracks and stare wide-eyed at the biologically youngest ghost.

"I say! What is the meaning of this?!" the Captain exclaimed, aghast.

"My apologies, Captain," Cordelia replied sarcastically, looking the biologically older and taller ghost directly in the eyes and holding her head up as high as she could. "But I cannot allow any of you near Alison."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"I must insist that you cease your follies at once and leave poor Alison alone," Cordelia stated sternly, sending a brief glare around the shellshocked ghosts either staring bug-eyed or open-mouthed back at her. Excluding Julian, who observed the ensuing interaction with an arched brow. He appeared more intrigued than surprised by what was happening. "She is still recovering from her accident, and all your behaviour is doing is worsening the worry she is already burdened with."

And as Cordelia expected, her words were not received well. Immediately, the protests from the most vocal of the ghosts began flying into the open, a cacophony of voices shouting over one another like a terrible symphony of instruments playing in different keys. Cordelia struggled to discern who was saying what, though there were notable exceptions.

Like Pat, for instance. "What about the plan?!"

And Mary, while the peasant woman anxiously ruffled the folds of her dress' skirt between her hands. "She be a witch!" she shouted accusatorily. "She must renounce Satan or get out!"

And Kitty, whose pout wasn't missed by Cordelia despite the biologically older ghost loitering near to the back of the group. "I just want to ask Alison if she will be my friend!" the Georgian woman insisted. "Please, Cordelia!"

And, of course, Thomas, who dramatically clasped his hands before his chest and violently shook them back and forth. "Please, may I speak with Alison?!" the Regency-era poet begged. "I simply wish to know the time scale of when my darling shall be mine!"

But throughout it all, the Victorian woman didn't budge an inch. She allowed the shouting to proceed for another minute more, then roughly clapped her hands together once. The thundering echo hushed the rambling ghosts, the group simultaneously flinching and shuffling backwards.

"Not another word," Cordelia hissed, causing those such as Kitty, Thomas and Robin to hunch their shoulders and shrink back a little further, treating the biologically younger ghost like she was a predator about to devour her cornered prey.

With their incessant rambling silenced, Cordelia peeked over her shoulder at Alison, subtly tilting her head in the direction of the west wing doorway on the opposite side of the ballroom. Cordelia didn't need to say anything for Alison to understand what she was ordering her to do, though her hesitance seemed prevalent as she glanced between the Victorian ghost and her cowering acquaintances. It was only once her gaze settled entirely on Cordelia that the ghostly woman saw the mental debate formerly plaguing the living lady of the house dissipate, evidenced by her relenting sigh and sagging shoulders as she roughly rubbed her palms up and down the side of her face.

"All right, all right, you win," Alison complained as she sluggishly hauled herself over to the doorway, not before shooting Cordelia a narrow-eyed stare and momentarily pointing at her. "But you'd better be right about this."

Cordelia said nothing to this, but once Alison's back was turned, she let a proud smile slip onto her lips for several seconds.

'Oh, dear Alison, you have no need to fret. You will see how right I am soon enough.'

Cordelia watched Alison until she'd disappeared into the corridor, then directed a stern frown to the ghosts warily staring back at her. She did briefly sideways glance Humphrey, who was still observing the interactions from his little spot on the windowsill. Once the Tudor head subtly darted his eyes in the direction of the group in front of her though, using the movement as an encouraging gesture in place of his hands, the blonde-haired ghost looked away again and took a deep breath to mentally prepare herself.

"Now then, I am proposing and proceeding with a minor amendment to the latest operation," she stated matter-of-factly, straightening her posture and placing her hands to her hips while scanning the group over. "When Alison returns with Michael, I shall act as mediator. Meanwhile, the rest of you are to stay back and be silent. Am I understood?"

Some of the ghosts exchanged awkward sideways glances between themselves at first, awaiting for whichever poor soul dared to question the tiny blonde Victorian woman on her proposal. That poor soul ended up being Thomas, the Regency-era poet timidly lifting a hand and forcing a nervous smile.

"Can you, mayhap, make an exception for moi? Just so I may ask my cuddly nug when—"

Julian loudly cleared his throat to interrupt Thomas and took a step forward, apparently having seen this as his window of opportunity to push his own agenda forward (even despite catching the dramatic gawk and offended scoff the resident poet sent his way).

"I need to ask her if she's had any contact with the people at Goggle. It's an urgent issue!"

Kitty moved closer to the front of the group and clapped her palms together with quivering lips, looking like she was about to cry. "Please may I ask Alison if we can be friends?! It will only take a moment!"

Robin poked his head from behind Julian's shoulder. "And I want to make Kim Wilde jump! It be real quick! Promise!"

Fanny scowled and took a step forward, sternly wagging her finger about. "And I would like to make a complaint about the hole in the wall of my bed chambers! It is a matter that must be dealt with right away—"

The rest of Fanny's rant became engulfed in the sea of voices that rose from the rest of the ghosts, all eight of them nonsensically shouting over each other and crowding close to the biologically youngest ghost in a semi-circle. Cordelia took a couple of steps backwards and closed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb and counting to 'five' in her head.

'Good grief. One is reminded of a flock of parrots.'

The Victorian woman allowed the incessant chatter to continue until she reached her target number, and then, upon discerning she could address them with a clear mind, snapped her head up with a strict glare.

"Hush!" Cordelia yelled at the top of her lungs, startling the eight ghosts and shutting them up once more. She continued in a firmer and quieter tone of voice after she was sure her acquaintances had gotten the message, straightening out her shawl and haughtily sniffing. "There are no allowances to my instructions. No one is to converse with Alison at this very moment unless it is myself." She pointed a finger at the ghosts' feet. "All of you are to stand here and be silent until I say so. Do you understand?"

The Captain was the quickest to regain his composure after a sharp shake of the head, the sudden stomping of his foot sending a startled jolt through Robin, Mary and Fanny (though, the Edwardian woman's movement was a little more subdued compared to the resident caveman's and peasant woman's) standing next to him.

"Now, hang on a moment!" he addressed the biologically younger ghost in a strict tone, rolling his shoulders back and forth a couple of times. "As the ranking officer of the Button House upstairs unit, I demand that you cease your sabotage of this mission with immediate effect—"

"I shall not," Cordelia interjected with the scrunch of her nose and the deepening of her frown, stepping right up to the taller ghost and harshly jabbing him in the chest with a finger for each word she emphasised, occasionally eliciting a flinch from the ghostly gentleman. "You have expressed on more than one occasion that you consider me associated with the upstairs menagerie, correct, Captain?"

"I have."

"Thus, you believe I am required to partake in situations such as these?"

"Yes."

"Then that is precisely what I am doing." Cordelia dropped her hand from the Captain's chest and gestured it in the direction of Pat, prompting the other ghosts to momentarily look to the widely blinking and brow-raising scoutmaster. "I agree with Patrick's initial suggestion. Conversing with Alison to find a compromise to our living arrangements is the best solution to proceed with. Thus, that is what we shall do."

The blonde-haired ghost promptly ignored the surprised gasp she heard from Kitty and a proudly exclaimed "Knew it!" from Robin. Though, from the corners of her eyes, she caught Pat lifting his head a little higher and smiling faintly in spite of his slightly quivering lips, a small sign the scoutmaster was touched by her actions.

"But Alison is still under the impression that we are not real," the Captain argued, his jaw clenched a little with visible irritation.

"Of which I am well aware of, Captain." Cordelia pulled away from the World War 2 veteran and turned around, clasping her hands to her stomach as she eyed the vase on the table at the ballroom's far end. "Hence why I ask you to leave the rest to me. What I am about to do shall resolve that problem once and for all." The blonde-haired ghost looked back at the others and allowed her eyes to droop. "Well, hopefully. If all goes as I have planned."

"And what is that plan exactly?"

Cordelia tapped a fingertip to the side of her nose. "You shall find out in due time, my good fellow. Patience, please."

The Captain's lips twitched with the urge to refute the matter further. However, his attention, alongside everyone else's, was soon drawn to the west wing corridor just outside of the ballroom when two pairs of footsteps approached. Mike was the first to enter the ballroom, dressed in the same blue overalls Cordelia had seen him in yesterday. Alison was right behind him, carefully guiding her taller husband forward with both of her hands clamped upon his shoulders.

"Why are you bringing me in here?" Mike questioned Alison as the pair stopped beside the room's entrance.

"You'll see soon, Mike," was all Alison answered with, coupled with a rough pat on Mike's shoulders as an act of reassurance. "But hopefully it'll be the answer to one of our problems." Alison let Mike go to face Cordelia patiently waiting on the opposite side of the ballroom. "Okay. What now?"

Ignoring Mike frowning and glancing back and forth between his wife and the empty space she was talking to (as far as he was currently aware anyway), Cordelia strolled over to the table by the door.

"Tell Michael to keep his eyes on the vase." Cordelia twirled her wrist in the direction of the area behind her as she positioned herself behind the vase. "And I highly advise he do so from a safe distance to escape possible injury."

'We do not need another potential death occurring on the grounds, after all.'

Alison nodded. "Gotcha."

"Who are you talking to?" Mike asked with a raised brow.

"The old-timey lady from the other day," Alison casually answered, taking him by his elbows and gently pulling him to stand beside her close to the doorway. "She said to watch the vase."

Mike narrowed his eyes down at his wife, both brows now raised in clear befuddlement. "Are you having a psychotic breakdown?"

Alison shrugged her shoulders. "We're about to find out." Cupping Mike's cheeks in her palms, the brunette woman turned his head to the vase. "Just keep looking at that vase."

"Uh…" Mike uttered hesitantly, awkwardly shifting his eyes between the vase and Alison. But eventually he obeyed the instructions with the sag of his shoulders, permanently fixing his gaze on the decoration and quietly huffing. "Okay…?"

With Mike's attention secured by Alison, Cordelia gave her ghostly acquaintances one last short glance, placing a finger to her lips to subtly remind them of her earlier request. Six of the eight ghosts nodded in acknowledgement, showing that despite their confusion over the whole thing, they were willing to let Cordelia do what needed to be done. Fanny and the Captain, on the other hand, were the exceptions. Fanny was looking on with a scowl and curled lips, her disapproval of the other blonde ghost's antics clear as day. Yet her silence indicated she wasn't going to interfere, which Cordelia appreciated. The Captain was less subtle, his moustache and the corners of his mouth erratically twitching while he squeezed the life out of his baton now being twisted between his ghostly knuckles at his front. He was obviously agitated by Cordelia's defiance and physically fighting the urge to disrupt her plan, so the Victorian ghost knew she had to act fast. Poor fellow looked like he was resisting the temptation to scratch a troublesome itch.

But as Cordelia faced the white vase on the table and lifted her palms close to its intricate flower pattern, blue eyes locked onto her trembling ghostly palms, her fingers flexing at acknowledging how clammy her ghostly skin suddenly felt. Perhaps it was because there were eleven pairs of eyes (if she was to count Mike looking at the vase) intently watching her every move. Perhaps it was the internal reminder that what she was about to do was going to be witnessed by others aside from Jemima for the first time. Perhaps it was the subconscious worry and concern of the consequences her actions were likely to bring by unveiling her closely guarded secret. Regardless of the reason and its origins, though, it didn't change the simple fact that Cordelia Edevane was nervous—her breathing labouring, her palms moist with sweat, her pulse pounding furiously in her ears, the inside of her throat tightening and closing up.

And yet who could blame her for feeling such a way? Just like with her previous decisions, what she was about to do was going to cause a violent ripple effect, one worse than the others that came before it. Once she went through with this, the solitude and peace she'd spent over a century and a half cultivating was going to be shattered. A stronger divide would likely sprout up between her and her invisible housemates. Siding with Alison and Mike in the hopes of them staying at Button House was the biggest risk Cordelia was about to take, so of course it was natural she'd hesitate due to not knowing what was likely to be the outcome of her decision.

However, it was like what she recalled Humphrey telling her earlier:

'Bad things will happen anyway. They always will, no matter what I do. Turning back now is not an option. All I can do is push onward.'

And push onward she would, she concluded.

Cordelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath in through her nose, mentally counting to 'five' and then exhaling loudly through her mouth. The released breath sent a calming wave from her head to her toes, quietening her pulse, stilling her hands, freeing her throat and evening out her breathing. She pretended she was the only one present in the ballroom right now, imagining the vase as clearly as she could in her mind—

"Is something supposed to be happening soon?" Mike's loud whispering disrupted Cordelia's concentration and cracked one of her eyes open, which she turned in his and Alison's direction.

"Patience, Mike," Alison replied with a light pat to both of his cheeks. "She's just psyching herself up."

"… The old-timey lady?"

"Yup."

Mike pursed his lips and knitted his brows together, turning his head in the direction of the corridor behind them. "Can I just go get my phone real quick and google the symptoms of a 'psychotic breakdown'—?"

"In a minute," Alison strictly interrupted, gently twisting Mike's head back to face Cordelia and the vase. "Just keep watching."

Mike released an irritated huff and rolled his eyes, but he didn't make further any verbal objections. Alison gave Cordelia a thumbs-up to let her know she was okay to continue, which the Victorian woman acknowledged with a curt nod. She briefly caught the group of ghosts slyly shuffling themselves a little closer to her location during her short distraction, with some of them at the back of the pack stretching up on their toes to get a good view of what was soon to unfold, yet Cordelia paid them no heed.

The blonde-haired ghost twirled her hands around in a clockwise motion, shaking her hands about from side to side, rolling her shoulders back and forth and wriggling her fingers up and down. The movement helped to relax her stiffened and spectre muscles and loosen her up, literally shaking what little nerves were left out of her very being.

'You can do this, Cordelia. For the future of Button House, for the wishes of Lady Heather, you must. After all, in the words of Patrick, it is better to make an attempt than regret it later. And regret it later I shall, should I play the coward once more.'

Another deep intake of breath through her nose and then a deep exhale through her mouth later, Cordelia's blue eyes honed on the vase as she hunched over the table, her fingers bent and poised on either side of it like a witch preparing to cast a spell upon her bubbling cauldron. For a while, the ballroom was enveloped in a tense stillness, its occupants standing as still as statues, gazes fixed on the Victorian ghost frowning at the decorative item in front of her with intense concentration, remaining unaware of the ghostly woman swarming her mind with every little thought that had triggered her anger in the days following Heather's passing.

The Captain attempting to silence Fanny's voice; Robin's suggestion to kill the living couple and Mary's and Julian's agreement; Julian shoving Alison out of the window and the Captain coming to his defence; The sight of a paranoid and terrified Alison in Cordelia's bedroom last night trying to escape from Robin; The ghosts' earlier harassment of Alison in her bedroom.

Each negative recollection was tossed as kindling onto the fire igniting within her, feeding the flames and making them grow little by little. Slowly, Cordelia's ire rose, sending that all-too familiar searing pain to her wound, its prickling gradually increasing its intensity. Sweat sprung to Cordelia's forehead as she clenched her jaw tight, deepening her frown and retracting her fingers into her palms while she resisted the pain.

Kitty and Mary hid their mouths behind loosely clenched fists. Robin observed the scene with wide eyes and his lips morphed into an 'o' shape. The Captain (who had since ceased his earlier twitching), Fanny, Pat, Julian, Thomas and Humphrey looked on with raised brows of intrigue, with the former MP tilting his head a bit to view everything at a different angle. Mike, naturally, remained indifferent to the situation and stared blankly at the vase, having folded his arms across his middle, whereas Alison was now stood beside him with her hands clasped to her chin, eyes intently flitting between Cordelia and the vase, waiting with bated breath for something, anything to come from the Victorian woman's intense focus.

And then, after what felt like an eternity… the vase wobbled. It rocked back and forth once before toppling over onto its right side, hitting the wooden surface of the table and shattering the silence with a light thud.

Mike was the first of the ballroom's occupants to react, his eyes bulging in their sockets as he instinctively stumbled backwards into the wall, his arms stretched defensively across his chest. "Why is that—?!"

Alison's jaw dropped open, her entire body stiffening and freezing over on the spot.

The nine ghosts on the other side of the ballroom collectively gawked, all of them apparently speechless for the first time in their afterlives.

Which just left Cordelia, whose body and head slouched forwards like a limp ragdoll the second the physical strain upon her was released, dispersing the burning pain from her wound along with it.

"Fie," the Victorian woman panted, breathing heavily and gripping both hands at her right side at the sharp pain that suddenly shot through it. She gave herself a minute before she lifted her head to her shellshocked audience, paying no mind to the obvious shocked bleeding onto their faces while speaking between heaving breaths. "Just so you know, it has been quite some time since I attempted this last." She weakly waggled a finger at the toppled vase. "My intention was to make it levitate, yet my lack of practice appears to have caught up with me." Cordelia paused to release a sharp exhale. "But no matter. My point has still been made." The Victorian woman took part of her skirt into one of her hands and lifted it slightly to give the gawking group of ghosts a small curtsy, her next words coming out sarcastically. "You are very welcome."

Cautiously lowering her hands to her front after Cordelia stood upright, Alison turned her head to look at Mike, the latter of whom hadn't budged from where he was pressing himself into the wall. Husband and wife stayed like that for some time, exchanging forced blinks and gaping mouths as they tried to wrap their heads around what they'd both borne witness to mere seconds ago.

No one moved or spoke after that, the ballroom locked in a strange tense tranquillity lingering about the air for a time. Though it wasn't fated to last: Thomas' breathless exclamation smashed it like a hammer hitting glass.

"What in the name of St Cuthbert?!"

A/N: And there you folks have it. Cordelia's ghost power is /levitation/. Which, admittedly, should have been obvious, because... well, it was the only poltergeist power left on the list that I found that wasn't taken by our canon cast. XD But yes, Cordelia has the ability to levitate objects. Considering how she died, it is a little odd for her to be able to do this, especially when you factor in Robin's and Mary's abilities being connected to their cause of death. However, if you paid close attention to what Cordelia did here, you'll see that like in Fanny's case, her powers are linked to how she died. It's not outright stated in the show, but I suspect the reason why Fanny appears in pictures was to haunt her husband. You know, to act as an indirect reminder to him that he killed her. A 'ghostly guilt trip', if you will. XD And in a way, I think Julian's abilities are a little similar, in that his guilt over never being there for his wife and daughter led to him getting an ability that he could use to get people's attention (same with Jemima, potentially). Thus, Cordelia's imitates that train of thought. It has nothing to do with how she died, but they're connected to her feelings surrounding her death, which I think Fanny's and Julian's abilities do too.

Regarding why I chose Cordelia to use them to help Alison reach her epiphany instead of her going to the doctor? Well, it's like Cordelia said herself: her abilities can't be explained as a simple trick of the eyes. You can't really rationalise a vase falling over like that when no one was standing near it and there was nothing around to knock it over. And upon thinking about it a little, had the ghosts actually thought to use their abilities again during a time where Alison and Mike wouldn't get distracted or have something available to 'explain it away', I think they could have manipulated their abilities enough to convince Alison and Mike they were real. Though, I suppose they probably would have gone to the doctor anyways just to be safe. But either way, I thought this scenario was a great way for Cordelia to show off what she can do, while simultaneously developing her character.