#and not the typical one. i mean lew's still dead but yeah.

[answrs]

Wrote this and 2 days later had to euthanize my favorite fish I’ve had since the beginning of lockdown for the beginnings of a terminal & painful condition. which is certainly a form of irony i do not appreciate or wish to tempt from the universe so I’m not gonna edit it any more than i already had done before that.

(this is Mystery Skulls, not pokemon, for the new followers, btw)

I think I'm having feelings about holding a companion past their time, fighting tooth and claw against the universe instead of letting them rest, how human it is to want every moment possible with a loved one, and how it's taking a step back and assessing what's truly best for them may be letting them go.

possibly exploring ghosts being warped funhouse reflections of a person?

Lewis very accidentally kills Arthur in a confrontation where he reveals himself. (possibly not-realizing-how-violently-he's-shaking-the-guy-he's-holding-while-screaming-at-him-for-answers accidentally aggravating past head trauma or something similar?) in the moment Artie's very tired and rather unhealthy mind is kinda "oh we found Lewis yay I completed my purpose I can rest now" and is peacefully-if-woozily dozing off as he passes into the After, when Vivi uses some heretofore unknown and extremely not very understood spirit magic to grab his departing soul and strangle it back onto the living plane.

((fuck it mystery is… idk. licking his wounded pride off in the desert somewhere for a year post-Shiromiri or whatever. maybe I'll edit him in later. or not.))

((they did not, in fact, edit him in later.))

Lewis skedaddles immediately seeing what horrible thing he's done, terror at himself, how could he have done that he just wanted to know W H Y and oh gods he's not safe to be around and he has to get a w a y

Arthur as a ghost is very much formed by those last calmer moments combined with a life of compartmentalizing and shoving issues to the back of his mind to avoid them. so he's actually a very chill, laid-back ghost who just wants to sleep, he's so tired, but-

similar to the one fic I did where viv necromances her way to keeping artie stable and unknowingly causing him to suffer but this time Vivi refuses to give Arthur's anchor to him, since because his spirit has no purpose remaining here he'd pass on and she Will Not Lose Her Friend She Will Not Tolerate Being Alone. Arthur repeatedly tells her that Lewis would happily stay with her, keep her company, but Shut Up! she didn't know this person before and she certainly wants absolutely nothing to do with him now!

not that she really enjoys being around this Arthur that's nothing like he Should be. why did he have to come back wrong!? she tries to hide it but he just gives her a sad, knowing look and goes back to trying to doze where he's floating at her shoulder.

it's a near daily occurrence, far past the end of her rope, that in frustration she yells back at his Wrong words or Wrong actions and gives an order- Shut up and take this seriously! Stop trying to sleep! -and watches the blue crackle of her power snap his mouth shut, straighten him at attention. she begs and pleads for forgiveness, she didn't mean it, he doesn't have to, it was a mistake - to be met with a drooped smile, a nod brushing away the concern. often Arthur mustering up the energy to try and cheer her up, suggest they go do something fun so she can de-stress.

his permanently distracted mind always wanders back to Lewis and it never really settles in (his spirit not holding a grudge for his death and because of that only really understanding Vivi's absolute hatred in an abstract sense), he suggests they find him again, the cycle restarts anew.

meanwhile Lewis, devastated and now constantly fighting his unfinished business to seeing his friends safe to stay away only sees Arthur's tethered spirit a few months later when his will breaks and he allows himself to watch from a distance.

but it's not a ghost is a ghost is a ghost and that's that. he sees nothing so sinister as shackles or chains. but a ghost that forms has always done so for a purpose, or regrets, or Anything that gives them a reason to not pass on, a tether they hold to the mortal plane. but the shade bobbing along at heel has nothing of its own. a blue string keeps him like a balloon, wrapped a thousand times around its holder's hands for fear of it slipping away in the wind.

concern overrides common sense, as is wont to do. he approaches and Vivi nearly manages to smite him on sight, only held back because she doesn't actually know how to properly do so. but after bats are (begrudgingly) put away and skulls are re-aquired from across the parking lot, it stings to see Arthur some of the most aware he's ever been as he greets the ghost.

she sees his murderer, he sees only an old friend. 

Vivi is (extremely understandably) both infuriated and devastated in turns. she wants less than nothing to do with this Monster, but the man she's spent so long night and day begging to come back to her is responding positively to its presence. she is truly in her worst lose-lose situation

Lewis keeps his distance as best he can in the time after, he sees the fine threads of connection weaving when he talks with the shadow, bringing it ever slowly back to them. but is it right, or merely cruel to do so? to convince a soul that should be at peace to turn itself back, bind it to existence just because they aren't ready to let go of their friend? is Arthur doing this for himself, or for them, or is he even aware enough of it to be doing it on purpose? he still says he's tired, that he just wants to sleep. they're together again, he's happy, seeming oblivious the two are steadfastly avoiding all but the most required interaction with the other. are they coercing him into ghostlihood by encouraging these ties he likely doesn't even notice are forming? tying him to a reality that doesn't exist?

((I don't know. I don't know if he stays and regains himself. I don't know if they let him go. I don't know what happens after except in all cases they must mourn what was lost, what will never be the same again.))

[the-headbop-wraith]

3_ 44  Mending Fractures in Clock Faces

  It was one of those days where she didn’t feel capable enough to get every little detail in order, before heading out to tackle a day. The day itself wasn’t especially meaningful, aside from one meeting at the college Though she wouldn’t typically fret over a conventional brief to slog off materials, she had reasons these days to be a little more cautious about approaching individuals outside her close knit circle of friends.

 Vivi finished applying some contours and shade to her face, and afforded a little shade of blue tint around her eyes. She and the boys were usually in and out of places in such a whirl, she didn’t go for a full slather of makeup. It was maintenance and she had better things to spend her money on, such as rare and illusive books that the Tome Tomb would pay a good percentage for. On this day however, she wanted to conceal the grayness of long nights and short bouts with sleep; though Uncle Lance knowing her, the rouge would be a dead giveaway she’d been a workaholic lately.

 A soft whine and delicate scritch-scritch tumbled through the lower space of her door. “Give me two seconds,” she hailed back. Edged back from the mirror, she made a face by squinting her eyes and tilted her head under the phosphorous light. It would get her through the day, which is all she needed.

 The sultry aroma of a warm breakfast assaulted her upon exiting the bathroom. It was warmer in the living room than it was in the freshly steamed shower.

 “Ooh, that smells scrumptious.” She stepped aside, while Mystery nudged by and entered the bathroom. He kicked the door shut rather rudely, once she was out. “Sorry.”

 “Wow, that’s a record for you,” Lewis croaked. He was in the small kitchen, a dishtowel draped over one shoulder while he worked the stove. With a graceful tilt, he platted the pan-fried toast and eggs onto an awaiting blanket of the napkin. “But Mystery sure appreciated it. He’s a bottomless pit.” He set the plate on the bar and went rummaging around for the silverware. “Though it gave me a chance to practice. Cooking, it’s not so easy when temperatures are all… eugh.”

 Vivi examined the breakfast collage set before her. She bought all microwavable stuff, fast and easy for a pinch, but Lewis being Lewis insisted he dedicate to the stovetop method. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. And… shouldn’t you be good at this, isn’t fire your element or something?” She didn’t mean for it to be so blunt or insensitive. “You’re made of fire, aren’t you?”

 “Only my unbridled passion for you, mi corazona azul.” Lewis swept up a tea pot and poured the steaming water into a mug, with a little strainer chain dangling off the side. “It’s the least I could do for crashing at your place. What am I gonna do, watch you work all on your own?” He set the mug beside her plate, along with a fresh bottle of honey purchased the other day.

 Vivi bobbed the steeper and began cutting at her breakfast. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve done enough. You could afford some time off, save some energy. Whatever you need. MMm! This is really good.”

 “Is that a new hairband?” Vivi frowned. “What? Just asking.” He turned off the burner, and began tidying up the counters. Eggs went back into the fridge with the pre-cooked sausage.

 “I wanted to look a little more… put together, when we go in for our review at the college. Regarding that… case.” At the fridge door, a wash of mist engulfed Lewis as he lingered, edging around to peer at Vivi with the corner of a burning fuchsia eye. “It’s a standard brief, but ya remember what I said – the Demonology Department is a little hung up that the case went so ‘smoothly’ as they put it.” She did finger quotes… then licked her fingers of the butter and grease.

 Lewis shut the door and turned away, pretending to examine the dirtied dishes on the stove. He gave the back of his head a rub, a very human gesture and completely reflexive.

 The bathroom door opened and Mystery emerged, looking fluffy and bright. He strolled over to Vivi and gazed up imploringly, eyes big and beseeching. You gonna finish that?

 “We’re gonna go through and give the evidence media another review,” Vivi insisted. “Make certain you didn’t interfere with a photo or vid clip. No offense, but whenever you photobomb you always have this… ominous aura, and that’d contradict our reports about passive spirits.”

 “It’s not that,” Lewis chittered. The oven light flashed, causing him to flinch as if this never happened before. “I guess what is bothering me, is if I wasn’t there. To meet the family. What would… I don’t know. What would the college have opted to do?”

 Vivi took a bite of egg and looked at Lewis’ eyes. “You need to remember, it wasn’t the call of the department to… how should I say…?”

 “Escort?”

 “Escort’s good. You did the escorting, I guess.” She set her hands on the bar and straightened up a bit more. “The point is, I didn’t rightfully care about the Hershey’s. They weren’t worth it, we were there for them but they didn’t require us. See? They could’ve gotten anybody, to deal with that family – locked in the memories of their home.” She sighed, looking aside wistfully. “Anybody else could have torn them apart, tormented them. It wasn’t warranted.”

 Lewis held his smoldering eyes with her clear blues a moment longer, before giving a rasp and withdrawing. “Yeah. You have a point.” He took the skillet and set it in the sink, BUT first he took a napkin and began wiping it out.

 “You’re invited to come along, if you’re curious?” she posed. Honey went into the tea and she gave the mug an experimental sip. “Mmm. Maybe not a flashlight, this time. Or you could do that invisible thing… can you turn invisible?”

 “Ah, yeah,” Lewis muttered. “If it’s the same by you, I’d feel fine just sitting this one out. Demonology Department and Paranormal Investigations? Investigation being a keyword here. We wouldn’t want someone seeing shadows, and suspect of all things you were followed or something.” He cracked a grin. “That would be awkward.”

 “I always wondered how astute those people are,” Viv admitted, while pressing a bent finger to her chin thoughtfully. “But you’re right, it’d be better not to risk it. I won’t be back for a while though, just so you know. The college isn’t our only stop, Art and I have to dump supplies and get the van in for the exterior overhaul.” She turned the bare plate over and looked down at Mystery.

 “All gone. See? Why are you even begging, that’s so unbecoming of someone like you.”

 Mystery huffed and stamped a rear foot. I’m a growing boy!

 “I won’t be in for a while. That’s the deal.”

 Lewis pursed his lips and gazed upward, giving it serious consideration. “I would prefer helping you, and let Arthur have the time to take it easy and catch up with his work.”

 Vivi shrugged. “He has to be present for the brief.”

 Lewis ran water in the sink and began scrubbing the skillet. “I do kinda need a break from people for a while. Ya feel me? Lo sie— Sorry, that I won’t be able to help with squaring away our stuff. I know that’ll be a massive pain for Artie.” The whole… possession thing was rough on the both of them, though he didn’t want to say that aloud. This was the first chance he was able to put up distance with Arthur, since he rose from his hibernation. There was still a lot of sensations and spite boiling inside him, a lot he didn’t quite have defined words for. The way Arthur was so lost and out of his mind with utter desperation shook something to Lewis’ core, while at the same time; it rekindled those old memories which sustained him during his existence before the surviving trio stumbled upon the catacombs of his resting place. A place he wanted buried away and secluded from the world, for all the damage it had done.

 “Lew? You okay?”

 He jarred and gave Vivi a look, then, followed her gaze to his arms… the water in the sink bubbling and scorched. Vivi was leaning back, clearly uncomfortable with this turn. Lewis pulled backwards, careful not to slosh the scalding water. He patted at the dish towel hung over his shoulder and focused on snuffing out the heat.

 “That must be some water heater,” he sputtered.

 “Are you really… okay?”

 “Yes, really.” He offered a wide grin. The crisis averted, he ran some cold water in the skillet pool. “Well that suckers sterilized.”

 “Can you be honest with me?” When Lewis raised his gaze, she went on, “Is it… Arthur?”

 “No. Not at all. Okay-okay, the truth is I need a break from him. But it’s nothing personal, I get the feeling it’s mutual.”

 Vivi squinted one eye, but the topic she didn’t pursue on. “I feel better that you told me, so, I’ll keep that in mind. Whatever you two need.” She downed the rest of her tea and handed mug with plate, over to Lewis. “We need to get a move on. I don’t want us rushing Arthur, if he’s had another rough night.”

 Mystery yapped.

 Slipped off the bar stool and moved around the room. Collecting the few bags and notebooks left strewn about – off the couch and end-tables – she jammed everything into a backpack. “Do you want Mystery and I to check in, after we get the meeting out of the way? That’ll be three hours, give or take.”

 “I’ll be in fair shape,” Lewis assured. “Unless you need a break from Artie, too. Don’t worry about me… unless, you don’t wan me haunting your place?” Vivi laughed.

 The last of the folders and the laptop went into the backpack, and she secured the zipper. “That’s tots cool, just don’t set off the fire alarm, or scorch the carpet. Uncle Lance won’t let go the tragedy of the vans ceiling. When did that even happen?”

 Lewis shrugged. “Estoy tan perplejo.” Vivi passed into the kitchen and took Lewis by his faux ascot, pulling him down enough to give him a peck on the cheek. A little fluff of ember flashed from his hair but dispersed on the air, harmlessly. She bid him a final goodbye, and called Mystery to hurry along as she ducked out the entry. “Ella hace eso a propósito, pero me gusta.”

 The door shut and like that, he suddenly felt very alone. The small apartment quiet; the heater wheezed gently throughout the unit, electricity whistled in the walls with its somber hymn. Somewhere out there, people would be getting along with their lives, normal as can be. Mundane routines, venturing here or there on private quests to fulfill minor roles of the day before the sun set, some even extending activities into the night when the world turned serene and quiet.

 By a cruel swipe of fate, Lewis was expelled from that. He had no place to be specifically, no one was expecting him to arrive, he was not due somewhere or needed to be in a particular space of time. Aside from Vivi’s apartment, which was not an extensive or an endless mansion; or, Kingsman Mechanics where there was areas to move through or depart from.

 Some minor files and notebooks remained on the couch, for Vivi’s personal archives – most of it handwritten messy notes, sometimes amusing or unflattering doodles decorated the pages. He gathered these into neat stacks and set them beside the lamp on the end table. It was much too quiet, prompting Lewis to drift over by the radio player and set his hand on the front panel. With a spark and nudge of his persuasive heat, the player chattered to life. The digital dial tallied through the various stations, voices and electrical instruments bombarded through the speakers, volume rising and then dipping as he set the device to a familiar old favorite. Passive tunes played through, affording some atmospheric warmth to the space where he was set to dwell.

 It grieved him to admit that he didn’t want to be around Arthur – let alone anyone, for a time. Why was that? It was difficult to convey. Before, he was never like this; that he was certain of, or he wasn’t Lewis Pepper. Outgoing, confident in his own right, yet now, he needed solitude. Sometimes in Vivi’s passionate forwardness he forgot these things, forgot how much he missed the silence, the isolation. When did it begin, he wondered? Where was the break in the timeline – certainly not when he awoke. The heat that burned through him was vivid and unforgettable. The betrayal, not only of what… occurred, but what followed. Left behind and forgotten, for so-so long. Endless halls, doors one after the other, candlelight to comfort his wanderings. Seeking but internally lost, bound to that place by sensations and emotions he couldn’t shed. Nothing to ponder through, aside from the echoes of recollection and what ultimately led to his current state.

 And the ever-present thrumming of his locket, aligned to a silent beat he no longer possessed. That was loneliest of all. The conviction and irrefutability of his reality. Lewis Pepper no longer was. It had all ended, and the world left him behind.

 The dust atop the radio player was disturbed, but only slightly, when Lewis drew back his hand. He chided himself, but Vivi was very busy and when she was home… well, she only barely returned home. It would help him maintain focus and pass the time, if he did something productive. Where was the cleaning supplies? Did Vivi have cleaning supplies, at all?

 One of the cabinets in the kitchen had suitable gear and cleanser substance, which allowed Lewis to at least get the hard surfaces in order. The kitchen itself didn’t have a great well of culinary space, and most the stuff Vivi bought was either fast meals or condiments, and one cabinet dedicated to teas and coffees. He didn’t have a specific cleaner for the cabinets, but some dish soap and a good rag would suffice to remove sticky substance or whatever else was left on the panels. She didn’t even line her cabinets, Vivi, what the heck? His parents would lose it if they saw the state of her stove; not that it was filthy (see Vivi-s preferences for meal planning), but it could use some attention.

 Having worked in a restaurant for his life, it was no issue getting the space freshened up ceiling to floor. The one thing Vivi did have was a mop, in the bathrooms towel closet. He suspected that was more for random spills than the actual task of cleaning, but he scrubbed the small patch of hard floor and called the apartment a better living space.

 Lewis put on his sunglasses before checking out the window, facing the small thicket below. He wasn’t worried anybody might see him at this height, but the sun would forever and always irritate him. The hour was still early, though he couldn’t recall what else Vivi needed to toil with before she should call the day well and worn past usefulness.

 On the shelf above and below the radio player, there lined up numerous volumes on the spiritual and legends. Some of the books appeared aged and frayed on the spines, while others didn’t look older than a year; with glossy covers or crisp pages. He took one of the elder books, a text about ‘ghosts’, spirits, and phantoms. The book was not very detailed, but included photographs from the 1900s all the way to the more modern era, showcasing dreaded orbs and shadow people. He put the book back.

 The next book, he decided to go through an older volume and try to decipher the nonsense. He eased back as if reclining on a chair of air, with his heel braced on the floor. There was included inspiring observations about residual haunts, and speculation that spirits are a substance of none substance, capable of easing through solid and immovable surfaces. Yadda-yadda, however, he did have issues when complicated obstructions such as cabinets or interior wiring was involved. He flipped through the book, further exploring insightful passages, such as manipulation of electrical devices or digital media. Boring. Did any of these books have any insight on how to be less spirit?

 After returning that riveting intuition of publication manifesto, Lewis went next to a book of meditation. There were a few volumes along the same genre, and it made sense that Vivi would have them in her collection. She had a thing for channeling good energies, or chacra, or whatever; an important asset, he had come to learn. He hefted the book up and gave the front and back cover a quick inspection, before settling up into a float. The whole mind over matter deal might be more insightful than books of shadows, perplexities, and speculations.

 __

 The Mystery Van thundered as its engines heaved it up into the parking zone, for arriving vehicles of the Kingsman Mechanics. Typical of his ways, Arthur wasn’t even up when Vivi arrived, but she had anticipated this and thus showed up early in order for Arthur to get his bearings in order. After speaking with Uncle Lance, Vivi propped open the back doors and sifted through the packets of files and folders. At this point it was organization, pulling credible and intriguing information to the forefront while leaving lesser interesting portions to the bottom of the barrel – sort to speak.

 Once more, Vivi thanked Arthur for lending her the van. She knew home much the vehicle meant to him.

 Arthur checked through the backdoors, as he hauled up with an additional duffle of spare equipment rented by the university. Vivi noted he had opted out of his arm, though it didn’t seem to slow him down. “It’s us today,” she offered, with meaning. “Just us.”

 Mystery padded around on the seat beside her and pushed his face against her shoulder. She gave him a soothing scratch beneath the dog chin, which compelled an appreciative whine from the pseudo canine.

 “A self-care day,” she added, as Arthur slung the backdoors shut. “Go on, Mystery. No more scratchies ‘til later.”

 “Self-care day,” Arthur repeated. He wound up on the passenger side, but upon seeing Vivi’s new placement, he sighed and made the long trip across the front of the van to the driver side door. He situated himself in the seat an pulled the belt across his chest. “Okay. Are you… sure?” A quick fix of the side mirror, and he turned the ignition switch. “Or are you saying that to make me feel better?”

 “Lying to you wouldn’t make you feel better.” Vivi rebuked. While she relocated further into the passenger seat, Mystery plodded over her lap.

 “Mystery!”

 Arf!

 “Mystery wouldn’t lie to you, would he?” she smiled.

 Arthur had to stop the van at the exit chute, and get the dog under control. This ended, by him wrapping one arm around Mystery and hugging him tightly to his side. “Now, no more. We’ll cuddle war later.” Vivi assisted by snatched Mystery away, and hauling the withering pupper to her side. “I finished formatting the files. Are you wearing makeup?”

 “Are you implying something?” she glared Arthur’s way.

 “No! Not at all!” Arthur put the van into drive and eased forward.

 Once they arrived at the city where the college was stationed, Vivi insisted they hit up a drive thru and grab breakfast, since she was ‘in such a hurry, and left without a goodbye.’ Those were her exact words. Arthur ordered some breakfast burgers and a tea. However, Vivi pulled an uno reverse card when they reached the campus, and insisted Arthur eat one with her and Mystery. Playing traitor was Mystery, sitting entirely too clos to Arthur while he worked to transfer files and simultaneously nibble on the burger, all with one arm between them. Mystery’s pleading whines sounded so mournful, it was near impossible to drop his eyes from the hound to do anything productive. Unless it was put a sandwich in his mouth. Then, Mystery would go quiet, his expression would change to an air of optimism, and he’d lick his lips. Or, shove his cold muzzle under Arthur’s chin.

 Arthur hissed, “This is why you can’t hang at my place.”

 Meanwhile, Vivi was doing a second browse of the files Arthur worked on, just in case. “Though that is under debate, if you don’t take better care of yourself.”

 “Uncle Lance is keeping tabs on me.” He jammed the burger in his mouth and held it there, while he did some swift type up on the laptop. “All you people! I have a very slow metabolism.” Mystery licked his chin. “No one’s impressed with you.”

 “I think you ignore your metabolism.” Vivi packed up the laptops, and reorganized the files for submission. Everything went into a large satchel made of canvas, with a two large buckles.

 “No, but let’s get a move on anyway.” He shut down the laptop and disconnected the external hard drive. “Get this out of the way, so we can move on to more important things.”

 “I hear ya.” They locked up the van and gave the doors one last go over, insuring everything was secure and that the beaten vehicle offered no enticing lures for the would be prospective vandal. It was a time like this, Vivi would have appreciated a certain spirit to keep watch other their things. Computers and other essential equipment was damn expensive.

 The meetings were not too terrible, but they were mandatory and time consuming on some cases, especially with a group that had gone to such lengths to ascertain that none of the content was ‘out of place’, as Vivi referred to it. Paranormal Investigations, Forensics, and the Demonology Department were all located in the same section of building, in a structure that better resembled a sanitarium than an education department. It was in among the sparkling new or freshly refurbished halls of Business and Financing, and arguably out of place, though mysteries and criminal activity went hand-in-hand with such divisions. Through their work of investigating mystery cases and unexplained events, their correlation was aptly relevant among these industry’s trends.

 In a certain crescent shaped room, a desk sat with stacks of files atop, alongside USBs, and an external hard drive. Among these items an Ouija Board lay, wrapped in a loose, clear plastic bag. In two chairs across from the table, Vivi and Arthur sat, as they directed their attention to the desk wherein a figure was typing into a desktop computer.

 “A few more seconds. I appreciate your patience, as with your punctuality.”

 “It’s no problem,” Vivi replied. She gave Mystery’s shoulder a rub; the dog left his head resting on her lap. “The assignment was very cut and dry. Mrs… Her, er, Hirstein, was very theatrical of the paranormal activities.”

 The tapping stopped momentarily, and the figure moved out from behind the computer to browse the collected files on the desk. “I see…” she hummed. She took a tab of stickers, wrote on one of the pieces then pealed it off. “Will you elaborate on these theatrics, as you have transcribed it?” She returned to the desk and resumed typing, but at a bided pace.

 Vivi shared a look with Arthur, and gave a nod. He began, “It was all completely blown out of proportion.” Arthur winced, when the typing accelerated, “The spooks we encountered were not hostile at all. A lil creepy, but not malicious. Not like some of our other cases where things, uh… kinda get out of hand. Y’know, with people terrorized, families harassed, angry, hostile, peeved ghosts….” He shuddered.

 “They were displaced souls,” Vivi took over, “who didn’t realize time had moved on without them. Like residual, but sentient within a projected facsimile that included bystanders.”

 The Department Head looked to Vivi. “From your tone, I anticipate you had some sort of experience?”

 Hesitantly, Vivi nodded. “There’s an included recount… in the files. Arthur and I both had experiences, of some form.” Arthur shifted in his seat and looked aside. “There was no repeat or predicted frequency, is was a… temporal interjection, or hallucination projected.”

 “Hallucination?” Arthur snapped.

 “Hallucinations are not all bad, or indicate something is wrong with your head,” Vivi declared. “It’s merely a case of some event or visual portrayed through subliminal suggestion, and is sometimes the cause by, or enhanced, by outer extremities.” Then, she returned her attention to the Department Head:

 “On that note, we performed extensive studies of the homes internal applications. The wiring checked out, appropriately insulated as per code standards.”

 “And actually— Oh!” Arthur glanced from Department Head, and back to Vivi. “Should I say?”

 “Go for it.”

 Arthur indicated the files, “The wiring and furnaces on the first and second story received a complete overhaul, given the incident that… resulted in the ghosts, being unaware that they had passed. Spirits, I meant to say spirits.”

 The Department Head took up one of the files, and flipped through the printed pages. “And there is paperwork, as evidence and relevance to the claims?”

 Arthur leaned a little forward from the chairs back. “There’s no available paperwork, but I did snap pictures of the installation serial along with dates listed on the machines. That’s standard procedure for installations.”

 The Department Head set aside the folder, then, reached for one of the USBs. “My only concern is that this assignment did not reach it’s expected timeframe – in fact, an extension was expected.”

 “Is that somehow a problem?” Vivi inquired. “It wasn’t as difficult as Mrs…Hirstein insisted, and we were able to guide the spirits to their final path.” She pulled her hands off the needy Mystery, and gestured the table. “I have no reason to believe they will have further issues with lost spirits, if the children stay away from obscene board games.”

 The Headmaster set aside the folder, and took up the Ouija Board. “It only becomes a problem, with clients such as the Hirstein’s. One client with false expectations isn’t the issue, but mishandling one or more clients can have negative impact on our future studies into the paranormal and occult. Studies go nowhere without funding.”

 Vivi tilted her head sideways. “We understand. On the topic of professional relations, I did not appreciate the Hirstein’s treatment of my team, or their attitude to the situation. But our interactions with them remained civil, and we conducted ourselves with the utmost respect.”

 Ruff.

 The Department Head flipped the Ouija Board over. “The Hirstein’s?”

 “Evidence.”

 She set the board aside and clasped her hands together. “My department will keep your history with the Hirstein’s in consideration, for our eventual follow-ups. Is there anything else either of you wish to add regarding this assignment?”

 “No… not really,” Arthur admitted. Mystery boofed.

 Vivi stood from her seat, first glancing to Arthur. “I wanted to take the time to recap, that my team runs strict investigations. We’ll bring evidence, media, give our play-by-play reports, document eyewitness claims, but that is what we signed up for.”

 Arthur reached up to his vest collar and tugged at the plush material. Mystery inched his way over and set a paw upon Arthur’s knee, and whined at him.

 “Of course,” the Department Head acknowledged. “Your group is persistent and invested in the depths of lore, which you explore with grand vigor. I assure you, there will be no changes unless you first submit a request. On that note,” she looked to Arthur, “I spoke with Uber Jiver, with Engineering and Technology, and there is expressed interest in your participation with some of the advanced programs. Would you find it beneficial to your primary work? It could aid in new techniques, and perfecting a better model.”

 Arthur grimaced. “That’s really swell, but the whole… building a better arm gig is something I kind of practice in my…personal time.” He reached down and gave Mystery the scratch he deserved. “And I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

 The Department Head clapped her hands together. “That’s quite well. Once again, thank you both for your quality of work. We’ll be in touch.”

 That concluded the entire meeting, for the day at least. Mystery’s claws tapped on the polished tile floor as he trotted between Vivi and Arthur, making the long march through the open halls. A few students stood out or about, passing on their way. The trio trekked out the large, glassed doors to the exterior sidewalk, interwoven among the division of academia. Arthur let loose the most dramatic sigh:

 “Damn longest fifteen minutes of my life.”

 “I think it was more like thirty,” Vivi mentioned. “Mystery, don’t run through the bushes! I just brushed you!”

 “I lost an extra fifteen?” He capped a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Do you ever get this impression, y’know, the sort where she doesn’t believe? In what we’re saying. She’s head of Demonology and forensics, but she’s got some harsh skepticism game.”

 Vivi held up a finger. “First rule of paranormal investigations, debunk or err on fantastical claims. Trust no one, until the relevant evidence is presented fully and truthfully.”

 Arthur raised his palm off his springy hair. “That’s a mouthful, even for a fortune cookie.” Mystery padded over and ran around both Vivi and Arthur twice, before siding up alongside Vivi. “I know that. You know that, Mystery sure as hecken knows that.” Mystery yapped. “But I get this vibe she doesn’t particularly like us, like, it’s personal. You get me? I’m not alone in this, right?”

 Woof!

 “We go in her office, and it’s sort of special – ‘Ah, there you three are. Trying to sell me ‘ghosts’ in designer sheets again, I see.’” He bent his arm and put a fist to his hip and tilted sideways, “Pictures of shadows in places where shadows shouldn’t be? Tsk-tsk, that’s not how the school documents.”

 “People always wanna make a buck off the rare and unusual. Haven’t we learned that?” She reached down and gave Mystery a pat. “It went a lot better than I expected. I guess the Hershey’s were satisfied with all the shenanigans, though I never once doubted Lew.”

 “Oh really?”

 “Really. Zilch doubts.”

 Arthur kicked at some leaves along the sidewalk. “I give a dang, in only that they don’t seem to give a flunk. All bark, less ‘cAn I SPeAk toO yOUur maNaGER?’ I hate dealing with clients like that. Worse than the culty fanatics, and their sinister dark gods of cheese sauce, children of the corn, or whatever.”

 “The most absolute worst.” Vivi adjusted her glasses and peered up into the overcast sky. “But even if there are problems, it doesn’t reflect poorly on our performance. And, we’re not gonna take their case again, even if it doesn’t close. We washed our hands of that, no worries. Chill.”

 Arthur jammed his hand in a pocket. “Until the next clan of Hershey’s,” he sighed. It would be inevitable. “It’s only ‘cause we can’t get rough with assigned clients. OoOOhh, the school wouldn’t approve of our curbside services.”

 Bark!

 “What?” Vivi snapped. “We represent the prime cut of paranormal investigators.”

 Mystery sighed and rolled his eyes.

 __

 The next order of business was clear the van of all supplies and work essentials, not only the electronics. Gear such as essentials for documenting paranormal activity, would go to Arthur’s shop for quality assessment. Everything else went to a small storage shed, rented not far off from the college zone. It was better described as a large atmosphere-controlled closet, for outdated files, along with other non-essential equipment; camping gear, and larger artifacts that wouldn’t fit at an apartment – and were kinda creepy or maybe a little cursed.

 It took some time to walk all the supplies from the parking lane into the inner building, a task made more time consuming due to the process of sifting through which would go into the shed and what would be left temporarily at The Shop. It wasn’t an issue of hauling every last and overflowing box to the shed, but cataloging what was going into the shed. There was a trolley available for customer use, avoiding the issue of heavy lifting, and Arthur made good time with Mystery’s help. A good bulk of files and obsolete tools went to the shed, and one blue bike was hauled out. For Vivi’s use.

 From there, it was a return trip to Kingsman Mechanics to drop off what remained of the equipment, plus whatever else didn’t get shipped out at the shed. It was Arthur’s continued role, to navigate the van through the wrap around of the carport. While Vivi was in the back hauling out equipment such as sage and spices from cuvees, and organizing the tech among rolls of spare blankets that hadn’t been moved out yet. The van easing to a stop spurred Vivi to pause in her work and check the front of the van. The interior alit considerably under the pressing glow of the central lights within the garage.

 “There? Already?”

 Arthur hummed, as he put the vehicle in park. The pop of a walkie-talkie snapped off, “Uncle Lance? Yo?” He slung around in the seat and tumbled into the back of the van, the whole affair made awkward by the fact he didn’t have a second arm.

 The scratchy reply came back through, “Yer?”

 “Vi and I are here. We’re dropping off some shit, and getting’ the spare truck.” He released the toggle. A few seconds later, the garbled reply came:

 “Say over.”

 Arthur sighed, “Over.” He scrambled on to the back doors and cracked them open. “I’m gonna borrow a flat cart and salvage boxes from parts, and park this stuff out of the way. We’re kinda in a hurry.” He paused outside the van, surveying the garage. “Over.”

 “I read yu,” the reply crackled. “Lemme know if y’need anything. Over.”

 “Thank yew, over.” Arthur darted off, out of sight and view for a short period of time. When he reappeared, it was hauling two large boxes one handed. He deposited them on the back, and Vivi began packing them with the equipment divided up.

 “How many you reckon?”

 “Hmm,” Vivi folded back and fitted her chin on her palm. “Seven, at most. Some of them I can’t fill all the way, though there won’t be shortage of space.” She grabbed Mystery by the collar, before the dog could attempt vaulting over the displaced equipment. “Hang tight for a few, would’ja? You’re gunna jar the merch.”

 With a very doggish grumble, Mystery tumbled to his side and lay there dramatically.

 Five more trips, and Arthur had supplied eight boxes for Vivi to work with. The rattle and grind of wheels bulldozed to the bumper. Arthur sided up to the back and used his hip to brace one box and gripped it around the side with his one arm, carefully, he crouched down to set the first box on the flat cart. This method was repeated for the five boxes, and once they had been set securely on the flat cart, Arthur used his foot to keep it steady while lining them up. While Vivi finished finalized the last box, he scooted up into the back space.

 “Could I trouble you to nab some coffee, and see if anyone dropped off snacks in the lounge?” he posed, innocently. “And I’ll grab the keys for the backup truck.”

 For the most part, Vivi was stunned. “Um, sure, I can do that. I gotta give the van another sweep before shutting the last box.”

 Arthur motioned with his hand. During this, Mystery insisted on hopping up into and out of the van, impatience in his eyes. “I’ll go through the cuvees. Ooh, and don’t forget the books in the floor compartments, too.”

 Vivi’s eyes lit up. “Shit! I completely, almost did!” She pushed the partially packed box aside, and fumbled for the seamless latch in the panel. “I doubt they’d go missing, but it’d peeve me off if I remembered I didn’t put them up someplace safe.”

 Arthur patted a space on the flat cart with his foot. This enticed Mystery from leaping off the bumper, onto the flat cart. “We’re gonna catch up with Gala, and I’ll take a few of these up to the room.” He swung away and snagged the handle, bracing to angle the stubborn cart. But Vivi called out:

 “You’ve been going overboard with the work, Mister.” She climbed from the vans back and straightened her skirt. “We’re not in a hurry, we just hafta park the van. Sit down for a bit, and I’ll go nab those refreshments.”

 Arthur pouted. “And Galahad?”

 Vivi sighed. “One thing at a time.” As she strolled by Arthur, she spun around and aimed an accusing finger. “And you’d better be here when I get back, or at the very least, not fighting those boxes up those stairs. Mystery, stay here and don’t let him get up to no good.”

 The ears perked on the little dog, and his bob tail waggled.

 It didn’t really mystify Vivi a whole lot, about Arthur’s eagerness to get the work done. At least work that didn’t involve specters or weird creatures, or whatever kooky stuff. He could focus and barrel onward with minimal resistance, equipment and engines could only have so many defects, and so many solutions. Such is the same of mathematical equations demanding straight answers, to unchanging numerals following unyielding laws.

 Leaving the van at the body shop wouldn’t hasten repairs, but she figured Arthur was done with staring at the unsightly scar in its side. And maybe, he wanted some time to himself to work on his arm.

 Someone brought in fresh muffins and cupcakes, likely from a local bakery. She went through the boxes, scavenging for something Arthur might like that was super sweet and bad for him. The coffee available in the pumps was stale and cold, so Vivi took it upon herself to fix up a smaller pot to brew some fresh. While the coffee brewed fresh and hot, she tucked two cupcakes in the microwave and just gave them a few seconds to warm up – not enough to melt the icing but to soften them. A trick she learned from Lewis. For a ghost, he knew a lot about making the best of boring foods.

 It was hard to get Lewis to talk about things like that. She remembered, the people she met back when Arthur was in the hospital. The confusion and wrongness felt, when they tried to connect with her. They knew her from somewhere, and if she was honest with herself, she knew who they were – like, knew them from somewhere, an acquittance, but that was it. That was about it. The history she had, before the accident, she didn’t fully grasp. The whole event frightened her, because she recognized something critical was missing. Something from her, between them, which connected them all together. Arthur knew, but he was too crushed to admit anything other than regret.

 What really stuck with her, was how much she cried. She didn’t understand why it hurt so much to stand before those people, and insisted she didn’t know anything. They asked questions, so many questions, and the tears wouldn’t stop.

 She snapped back when the buzzer went off on the microwave. Fuck, the icing was all runny. She tossed the cupcakes and tried again, this time setting the timer to five second increments.  

 Armed with a spare cup of sugar, one coffee, and three gently warmed muffins, she returned to the back closest of the garage for shipments. Arthur was nowhere in sight, but Mystery was still upon the flat cart awaiting patiently with his chin between his paws. Vivi inched up and set one muffin on his paw, and Mystery began nibbling at it politely.

 “Where’s Artie?” she pondered aloud. Someone was in the van, fumbling around. “Art?” Something within thumped or whumped.

 “Oh, you’re back! That was fast.” Arthur emerged at the back doors, rubbing his ribs under his left side. “S’that fresh coffee?” The communicator in his vest pocket began gargling about something undercarriage, up until Arthur reached in and flipped the volume down.

 Vivi cast a careful eye over to the flat cart, unmoved. Then, looked past Arthur into the van, and saw the boxes undisturbed. She handed the muffins over when Arthur leaned over. “How much sugar you want in your coffee?”

 He sat on the bumper and began digging into the first muffin. “Just pour the whole thing in.”

 Vivi bit on her lip. “You sure? There’s half a cup here, and it’s… two cups of coffee or less. You were really hungry. Everything all right?”

 “Famished,” Arthur gasped. “Maybe half then?” He glanced back into the van, then looked to Vivi. “It’s looks supe- hot.”

 The sugar was cool and by the power of science, would lower the heat in the coffee. Not by a lot, but maybe enough he could sip it. Vivi dumped a portion of the sugar into the little cup and gave it a stir. “Did you manage to scrounge up the rest of our gear?”

 “Mmm, no. Yes. I got distracted.” He set the coffee aside, and lifted up the disposable plate. “Look, no food. I ate it. Happy?”

 Mystery nodded.

 “I’ll finish going through, then.” Vivi climbed in past Arthur, and went to the slots nearest the back doors. “You’ll still need to give it a last pass, just to make sure.”

 “Right.” Arthur appeared stiff, or put off by something. “I’ll… wait ‘til you’re finished, so we don’t overlap.”

 She stopped and glanced his way. “Are you okay?”

 “Never better.” Arthur slipped off the bumper. “I’ll check the front, and maybe clean up a bit.” A few moments following Arthur’s voice fading out, the driver side door opened. Noises of fumbling and supplies shifting, items – obviously rubbish – scattered, or rebounded through the space beneath the bench seat.

 After some time, when Vivi was finalizing her scrutiny of the cuvees and organizing a few last mediocre bits of supplies – such as spare sage or graphite packets – Arthur vanished from the front seats. Vivi doubted he did any cleaning.

 Shortly after, the harsh grind of a flat cart wheezed its way to the back doors.

 “I just need that last box,” Vivi mentioned. “There are a few odds and ends, but I checked everything just to be sure.”

 “Yeah,” Arthur mumbled. He stepped back beside the right-side door and looked at the boxes. “You wanna take these up to the workstation? I need to put the other two boxes on here – they have cameras too.” He dug around in his pocket, until he produced the key ring.

 “Is something up?” Vivi took the key as she plopped out. “Just let me know, and I’ll help. What it is.”

 Arthur blinked and raised his brows high. “No, nothing’s up. I didn’t sleep well last night, and it’s kinda catching up.” He leaned around and took up the coffee, for a sip. “It’s gonna be a bummer, bein’ van-less for a few weeks.”

 “Yeah.” Vivi positioned herself behind the flat cart and began swinging the rear wheels, lining them up with the large doorway adjacent to them. “But at least the van can get repaired. And, it’ll be sort of like new. There’s a bright side to this.”

 Arthur groaned, and took another sip of his coffee. It was almost completely gone. “It could have been worse. I’ll give it that much, but no more.” He tossed the cup onto the plate and climbed back into the van. “Not like this’ll be the last time something….” Vivi didn’t hear what else; something about roasting or toast. Arthur probably wasn’t wrong.

 “Wanna ride, Mystery?”

 The flat cart could maneuver all through the receptionist’s area, and back into the employee area behind the wall that shielded off the stairs. Mystery lightly drifted off the cart, then galloped up the steps to the upper work area. Hauling boxes up wasn’t a grand ol’trial, foremost they were not heavy, and second they were not large. The containers served to separate the equipment, and one of the boxes Vivi transported to the room was full of parts for Arthur’s arm. She didn’t leave that at the work room, and opted to cart it to the private quarters where Arthur worked on designs and unique projects.

 Mystery was keeping constant company, and nearly underfoot at every turn in the narrow corridor. Vivi went ahead and opened Arthur’s room, just to make sure she put his essentials where they needed to be before they got misplaced. She paused beside his work desk and looked over the different schematics and sketchy designs, shapes and cogs in uniform colors. There was no sign of Arthur’s current arm, though he might’ve placed it somewhere safe. Unless there was an evident issue, or he seemed to be in visible pain, she wouldn’t ask. He might even provide an easy excuse, or might’ve provided an earnest but dismissive reply. Regardless, it wasn’t her business, not until it began to gnaw on Arthur, then and only then would she make it her business.

 Upon returning to the shipments, she found Arthur going through the cuvees. However, it was apparent he was distracted and unfocused with the monotonous task. He didn’t react as she stood there, watching him for five full minutes. Beside her, Mystery leaned forcibly into her knee and raised his doggish eyebrows.

 “I know something’s up, ‘cause you ate food without me bitching.”

 Arthur yelped and crashed sideways with a hollowed Thunk!

[notgonnarememberthis]

Resurgence Chapter 2: Repetition

Melinda wakes in a morgue with little to no memory as to how she got there. Her only clue is the broken bits of information provided to her by the coroner, Phil Coulson. All she knows is she was murdered and she has to stop the people who killed her from doing it again. Even if it means she has to help Coulson find his missing daughter along the way.

And I am back once more. Life got a wee bit hectic especially in the lew of returning to classes for this semester. Anyways enjoy!

Melinda jerks awake with a gasp only to be met with complete darkness. Where is she? How the hell did she get here? She wracks her mind searching for something, anything. Any possible situation. She shuts her eyes once more trying to calm herself. Panic would get her nowhere.

There was the missing child case. An eight year old girl named Robin mysteriously ran away from home a few months after the equally mysterious death of her father. The case got worse after an alert that a civilian had spotted Robin with shorter hair and a man who didn’t match the description of any family member. Hill proposed that it may be the same child kidnapping ring that they’d been following for three months. They’d tracked a lead only to come up with a dead end. Hand commanded her to go home as she’d been up for hours on end searching for that lead. She remembers walking back to her car and then… nothing.

She reaches a hand out carefully only to come in contact with cold metal only inches from her face. Reaching out the the sides and above her yields the same results. The box she is contained in is far too narrow to even sit up so she kicks below her. She smiles slightly finding that the bottom has more give than the rest. She kicks again realizing now that not only is she barefoot but she’s completely naked, only a thin sheet covering her. She’ll kick ass for that later.

She braces her hands at the top of the box kicking with all of her might. She lets out a gasp as the table underneath her suddenly slides out. Her eyes meet with very startled blue ones as she’s suddenly plunged into unbearably bright light.

“Oh my god.” The voice says. The shadowed figure shucks off his jacket covering her up quickly. Once her eyes adjust she takes in her surroundings. The scene is incredibly familiar as she realizes she hasn’t, in fact, been taken hostage but rather she’s in a morgue.

“What the hell.” She croaks. Her voice aches from disuse as she falls into a coughing fit. The man, who she can only assume is the coroner, rushes to the sink filling a cup with water before delivering it to her.

“I don’t understand. This shouldn’t be possible.” He stares at her half in confusion and half in wonder. She clutches his suit jacket tighter to her with her free hand, greedily drinking the water with the other. “You were…” His eyes fall on her knee for some reason. She places the cup down wishing she could pull away from his gaze. “Do you remember anything? Who you are?”

“I’m Melinda May, I’m a cop, I was on a case but now I’m here.” She states simply. “How did I get here.” Her eyes fall on the badge pinned to his dress shirt, “Phil Coulson.” The man awkwardly adjusts his sleeves trying to maintain the little bit of professionalism he has left. She takes note that it’s probably not every day that he opens one of these things to find a living person.

“You were attacked. You were bleeding out in alley and you were confirmed legally dead on the scene.” Melinda lets out a shaky breath clinging to the table. She died…

“Who found me?” Her fingers shake as she tries so hard to remember.

“Your partner, Maria Hill and Bobbi Morse. They left after your bo… you were dropped off here.” Her eyes well up with tears. To find her like that must have been devastating. Why the fuck can’t she remember any of it? She must’ve gotten shot or something…

“How?”

“What?”

“How did I die?” She asks. “You said I bled out but not how.”

“Well…” He sighs flipping open the chart. “That’s what’s confusing I suppose.” He picks up a folder lying on a nearby table before handing it to her. She clenches her teeth preparing herself before flipping open the manilla folder. The first few are typical of case files; the photo of a gun by a brick wall, her crushed radio lying next to a dumpster. Her heart sinks as she flips to the next photo. It’s her alright, eyes staring at the sky seeing absolutely nothing. Blood surrounds her neck and head. As she narrows her eyes it almost looks like the blood had come from a bite wound. She shakes the shiver out before flipping to the next photo. It’s a full body shot this time and she can make out another red stain on her knee.

Subconsciously her fingers drift to her knee only to find the smooth skin there completely undamaged. A flash of pain echoes through her body, she flinches as though burned. The pain still burns despite there being no wound. “What happened to me?” She whispers in shock.

“Well, I’m not going to lie when I first heard the pounding I was absolutely positive I was in a zombie apocalypse.” She can’t help the smile that twitches at her lips. He’s trying, god help him.

“Could I…” She gestures to herself. The room is still pretty frigid even under the suit jacket and sheet. He seems to catch onto what she means moving to a locker with his head down. He pulls a to go bag out of a locker against a wall. She gives him an odd look and he shrugs.

“It’s a colleague’s. I’m sure Sharon will understand when I explain to her.” He rubs the back of his neck with an apologetic smile. “The bathroom is out the door on your left. Nobody else is here so don’t worry about being caught without a badge.”

“Here alone on a Friday night?”

“It’s Sunday.” She groans again realizing she’s missed two days of her life being presumed dead. “At least it’ll be a good Thanksgiving story.” He tries for a joke but it falls flat in the tense air. Her family thought she was dead. How the hell is she even supposed to explain this to them? “Go change. I’ll wait here.” She nods at the command too entrapped in her thoughts to argue.

Her bare feet patter against the cold tile in the aching silence. Two days… She rakes her hand through her hair separating the tangled strands. She finds herself in the restroom peering at her reflection. Her eyes fall on the red mark on her collarbone. It’s faded like a scar that happened years ago. Yet she’s never had a scar there, she keeps good track of them she’d know.

Melinda shrugs the jacket off, a wallet bouncing out of the pocket and falling open. Two smiles look up at her from the white tiles. She picks it up slowly staring at the photo. The man is obviously Coulson. Even with the glasses perched on his nose she recognizes him. The girl next to him, however, is unfamiliar. To be fair she just met the man.

The girl looks like a teenager, probably 17 or 18. At least from what she can tell in the photo that’s how she looks. Her long dark hair falls over her shoulders bangs hanging across her forehead. It’s funny, she looks nothing like him.

She snaps the wallet shut suddenly at the loud knock. “Hey are you alright in there?” She didn’t even realize she was lingering for so long. She gets dressed quickly in the leisure wear checking herself in the mirror. It’s a simple t-shirt and leggings that are far too long on her. She still doesn’t has shoes but at least she has clothes. She’s been in worse situations.

She gathers his jacket and the sheet off the floor yanking open the door with a muttered apology. She hands him the items to him with eyes cast to the floor. “Thanks for the clothes. I’ll get them back I promise.”

“I’ll explain the situation to Sharon. Not that she’ll believe it but honestly what other excuse would I have?” He smiles down at her shrugging his jacket back on. He leads her back into the morgue to return the sheets but she can’t bring herself to enter. It’s not as if she hadn’t been in one before. Often the job had called for attending examinations with their detectives but it’s different now. When she was laying on the table… When it was her rather than some faceless corpse. “Are you okay?” His eyes are on her now, carefully looking over her. So much compassion from an utter stranger.

She shivers in the cold air rubbing her hands over her arms. “You have a daughter.” She says suddenly wishing to turn the topic off her for once.

“How did you know?”

“You left your wallet in your jacket. It fell open when I was getting changed.”

“Yeah.” He teases. “It fell open.” She narrows her eyes at him and his mouth snaps shut under her glare. Yet the sparkle of mirth is gone from his eyes. “I do but…” He swallows heavily his eyes focused on the wall beside her. “She’s been missing for a year.”

“I’m sorry.” She sighs shutting her eyes tightly. “I shouldn’t have intruded.”

“No don’t worry.” He smiles sadly. “Daisy left one night angry at me. I… She said she was going to go find her real parents and never came back.”

“Real parents?”

“I adopted her after she hacked into my radio signal while on a case. She was only 12 and a scrawny little thing too.”

“A case?” She asks with a small smirk on her lips. “You’re a man of many mysteries Phil Coulson.”

“You know normally I at least take a girl out on two dates before we’re talking about our pasts.” The teasing tone is back but there’s none of the same punch behind it as before. It’s a defense mechanism.

“I’m willing to bet you don’t normally open one of those boxes to find a living person either. Nothing about this is normal.”

“I used to work for the FBI.” He shrugs. “A mission went sideways and I got shot in the chest. I had to get a heart transplant and I almost left Daisy without a father again.” He settles back against a metal table. “I moved down to doing autopsies. Lot less likely that I’m going to get shot by corpses.”

Questions still plague her mind but they’re better left unanswered. The air is heavy with revelations between the two of them. “I’d hate to ask you for another favor but could you give me a ride home?” She shuffles awkwardly leaning against the doorframe. “I’d drive myself but I’d say it’s a good bet that my wallet and keys are somewhere in an evidence closet.”

“Yeah let me just.” He whips out his phone, likely texting someone to let them know he’s leaving. “Let’s go.” She follows him to a red convertible to which she just raises an eyebrow. “What? It’s a classic.”

“It’s December.” She says. God how it must have felt to get news days before Christmas that your daughter is dead. Bitterness clutches at her heart with fire thrumming through her veins. She’ll find answers to this.

“Are you cold?” He passes her his jacket again. She’s beginning to wonder if he’s the strange one rather than her. Who the hell drives a convertible around in late December?

“No just judging your life choices.” She jumps into the passenger’s seat just aching to get home already. Apparently being dead for two days is still incredibly exhausting. She can fall into bed to the sounds of the street outside. Tomorrow she’ll go to work and figure out what the hell happened to her. Surely someone has answers.

Phil catches her hand before she has the chance to get out of the car. He passes her a slip of paper with his number scrawled haphazardly on it.

“Is this your way of saying third date is on?” She mocks raising his eyebrow.

“In case you need something. Stay safe Melinda.” His tone is far too serious sending another chill down her spine. She only nods giving a quick squeeze to his hand. He waits until she’s safely in the apartment before pulling away. She walks up to the desk but sure enough nobody is there. Leave it to them to slack off when she needs it.

She sighs going back outside. Scaling the fire escape she makes it up to her floor. With a deep breath she heaves herself at the window breaking the glass with her elbow. With a sigh she settles against the wall taking in the familiar surroundings. A vase of flowers sits on the counter that was definitely not there before.

She has no time to linger. Surely her neighbor heard the glass break and the police would be on their way soon. The last thing she needs is to be arrested on the day she wakes up in a morgue. She works quickly grabbing all the clothes she needs as well as three burner phones she’s stashed in her drawer and the wad of cash she taped underneath her bed frame. She hesitates before she ends up taking her pistol from her desk as well. She shoves her stuff into her bag before slipping out again. She’s running from the building just as the sirens begin to echo in the distance.

She waits until she’s far enough away before she dials the number on the paper.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” She huffs trying to catch her breath. “It’s me.”

“You know I’ve always dreamed of getting a call from an unknown number and hearing that. Are you going to threaten my life or are we about to go on a grand adventure?” She can hear the smirk in Phil’s tone even over the phone.

“I need a place to stay tonight. Just one night.”

“Did something happen?” His tone is serious yet again and she swears she can hear him turning around in his car. Damn that man and all his compassion. She’d just met him hours ago and he already cares for her more than she is comfortable with.

“I’m fine. The desk guy at my apartment is slacking off again. I can find somewhere else don’t worry…” Actually it’s very unlikely. Hotels had to be packed because of the Christmas season. Everyone is visiting family.

“Please May.” He begs. “Let me help. Like you said it’s just for tonight and I have an extra guest room.”

“Thanks.” She sighs. She’d figure out where to go from here tomorrow. Right now all she can picture is hitting a bed and getting some damn sleep.

“Help!” The cry has her blood running cold as she stops in the middle of her tracks. “Help me!”

“What the hell…” She murmurs.

“May was that-”

“Yeah.” She says quietly as not to give away her position. The cry is close, just around the corner. Her fingers fall on her pistol as she creeps closer.

“Hold on May. I’m almost back there just stay put.”

“I’m going in.” She mutters.

“You just woke up in a morgue after a failed mugging and now you’re going to help someone else possibly being mugged or worse?”

“I have to do something.” Her mind buzzes with possibilities. This could be the same man who attacked her. If so then she could catch him. She could figure out what the hell happened to her if she had to beat it out of him.

“May… Don’t be a hero.” She hangs up the phone without another word. She lines herself against the brick wall, the cold penetrating her even through the layers. She takes a deep breath closing her eyes as she gathers herself.

She counts to three before rounding the corner.