Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cat's eyes gleamed from the shadowy black of his fur as he watched me. “I'm heading out, Sissel” I said to the cat. He blinked, once, and yawned before sprawling ever more languidly on the dirty yellow couch. He would follow if he wanted to and wouldn't if he didn't. That was the good thing about cats, they did what they wanted.  I smiled at him and shrugged on my suit jacket, letting the red fabric slide onto my body the way it always did. It was comforting to have it on, as if it somehow connected me to the rest of the world. But of course, it didn't. They were alive, I was dead. I had no connection to any of them. Well, mostly none of them.

Connections, life, death... none of it mattered in the end. I had a night laying open before me, intricately planned. Every step of that plan gave me a purpose to work towards, a vengeance that thrummed inside of me like my long lost heartbeat. Thinking about my revenge, about what I would do and how I would do it, made me feel alive. Almost. I was just settling my right shoulder into my jacket when the phone screamed at me.

RING!

I stood still, listening. It was futile, I knew. The call was not for me. I looked, stupidly, at Sissel – the call wouldn't be for him either, obviously. He watched it, ears perked and eyes alert, but unafraid. Sissel was used to loud, sudden noises.

RING!

I adjusted my suit. It would probably stop after the second ring, once the caller knew they had the wrong number.

RING!

Third ring. The phone in my apartment rarely rung. It was hooked up mainly as a way for me to return home – to the droll little crypt Sissel and I called home anyway – quickly. A port for a ghost, and nothing more. A convenience used for something other it's intended purpose. What, then, was coming over the line?

RING!

It was probably a telemarketer. The phone did have a number, after all. The number was still listed. It could be called, and they somehow ended up with every number possible. Poor fools. They were alive and they used their lives for that?! It was pretty sad...

RING!

I put on my sunglasses and paused. I could just walk out of the door and let it ring, but I didn't. Six rings... someone was determined. They weren't calling me, of course, no one called the dead, but as the seventh ring began, I began to feel a strange sense of hope. I reached to pick it up right in the middle of its next ring.

“Hello?” I said. I wasn't sure what I'd find on the other end.

“Hello!” said the voice of a very young child – a girl, though its always hard to tell with kids. “Hello?!” Impatient little thing.

“Yes?” It would have been rude to leave her hanging, though I didn't know what to say. If she was a scammer wasting my time, at least she had a cute little voice.

“Are you Amilie's dad?”

Oh. “No, I'm not,” I said. My voice was flat, free of my disappointment. Of course, she hadn't been calling me. No one did. I didn't know why I had thought anything different. Hope is a funny thing, though – it sneaks up on you and makes sure you’re as disappointed as possible. “I think you have a wrong number.”

“Oh,” she said. I expected her to hang up - There was nothing else to expect. She would call her friend, this Amilie, and never touch my un-life again. “Well...” Her voice was thoughtful, in that way that children's voices get. I didn't know why she was still talking.  “Who are you, then?”

“I don't know.” I said, before I really thought. It was a reasonable question, but why had she asked it.

“You don't know who you are?” the girl paused. “Everyone knows who they are!”

Did I? Did I really? “Well, who are you?”

“I'm not supposed to tell strangers my name!”

“Then I won't tell you mine.” I said, smiling. I really had no reason to be coy about my name. Heck, I could have just said 'I'm Sissel', and it would have told her nothing... and it wouldn't have been technically false.

“Why not?!”

“Well, you're a stranger.”

“Huh?”

“I don't know you.” I said, “That means you're a stranger.”

“Oh... oh! S... so, I can be a stranger too?” I supposed I'd just blown her mind with that revelation, not that there was probably much to blow. She only sounded like she was very young, just at that age when kids start acting smart.

“Sure.” I said, sitting down and settling in a little. I knew I should be out there, setting things into motion, but I... wasn't. I didn’t know why.

“But you're a grown up...? And I'm a kid?”

Sissel mewed and leapt onto my lap. “Just because I'm a grown up doesn't mean that I don't have to be careful of strangers!” I stroked my cat softly. Actually, that was true. In the shadows, you couldn't trust anyone, even if you didn't have a life for them to take. “It's a scary world out there, kid.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” What else could I say? Besides the obvious: “Well, goo...” I started.

“So, if I'm a stranger,” she interjected. A bold child, this one, and probably a handful for her parents.

Parents... The sadness, that old companion that I thought I'd left behind welled up in me again. If only we'd had the chance... She hadn't stopped talking. “Hmm?”

“If I'm a stranger, then are strangers actually not dangerous at all?”

“Uh.” I wasn't sure how to answer that. “Well, I mean... Some are, some aren't...”

“So why can't I be nice to a stranger?”

“You can if you want.”

“So, are they bad or good?!”

I wasn't qualified to have this conversation. “They're... You don't know until you meet them.”

“So, I should meet them!”

Good lord, was this a lawyer in the making? “Well, you don't know. That's why you shouldn't uh... you shouldn't meet them. Because you don't know if they are going to be good? Or bad?” I fumbled through my explanation. I was completely out of my depth here. And comfortable – as comfortable as the cat purring in my lap.

“That doesn't make sense,” she said flatly.

I was really out of my depth. “Look.” I said, “Weren't you calling a friend?”

“Mmhmm! Amilie! She's my best friend! Her daddy has an important job – just as important as my daddy's job, but in different ways, I guess. She's really pretty too, and...”

“Won't she be disappointed if you don't call her back?” I interrupted. I didn't want the call to end, but all the same, she hadn't been calling me.

“No, I didn't tell her I was going to call.”

“Even if she’s not expecting you, don't you think you should try calling her again?”

“Why?”

Why indeed. I didn't know. “Were you planning to do something with your friend Amilie?”

“Yes! I wanted to invite her to go to the Museum of Inventions on Saturday! I like machines and stuff!”

That sounded familiar. “Well, if you don't call her to invite her, she won't come.”

“Oh! Oh, right!” she said. It was sort of nice to hear the awe in her voice – as if I had done something more impressive than basic logic.

“Go call her.” I said, smiling.

“All right, mister!” she said, “I'll call her! Bye!” and with that, it was over.

I replaced the phone on its holder and stroked Sissel's chin. “Well, that was nice.” There was a warmth that lingered in my soul before gently fading away, something pleasant in the endless darkness.

Endless darkness...

Suddenly the night, with its plans and plots, seemed less appealing. “Let’s stay here a while, then.” They'd keep a night or two anyway.

Chapter Text

There was fur on my suit. This was unavoidable – cat fur got everywhere, with or without hugs. I did not generally mind – I didn't care about most things – but even for me, there was a point beyond which something had to be done. I was shaking out the suit, preparing it. “Things start to come together tonight.” I said to Sissel, who flicked an ear in my direction. Yes. My revenge was falling into place.

I felt invigorated – alive, nearly – for the first time in years. Not quite there, of course, one has to be alive to feel alive, but it was as close as I was going to get.

I pulled on my suit and coat and packed the items I would need. Finally, I reached for Sissel – my friend, my companion, my cat. “All right, Sissel. Let's go.” He meowed as I picked him up, wiggling until he could climb onto my shoulder, where he sat as if it was made for him. I smiled – maybe it was.

I headed to the door and... hesitated. I glanced at the phone even as the darkness of the night and my deeds invited me forth. It wasn't so long ago, after all, that it had rung and given me a breath of human, living contact. I kept expecting it to ring again every time I walked out of the door in my own body, but of course it never did. No matter how many times I expected it, and no matter how many times it failed to arrive, the hope remained. I didn't mind the hope, even if it was bittersweet. One thing I had learned was that hope was a precious thing in this world, even if followed by disappointment.

It seemed that it would be the same tonight. I turned away with a wry smirk. “Let’s go.” I said to Sissel again, stroking him, “There is much to do...” But right as my foot crossed the threshold... it rang. My spirit jumped, and I stared at the phone in the stasis of the blue-tinged spirit world, wondering what to do. But then, I already knew what I was going to do.

Almost immediately, I found my hand on the phone's receiver, bringing it to my ear. “Hello?” I asked.

“Hello, mister!” It was the child. Of all the things I had been expecting – and admittedly, I hadn't known what to expect – I hadn't expected this.

“Hey there!” I greeted, “Were you trying to call your friend? Did you get the number wrong again?” Her voice was familiar, strangely so, and I wondered if it was because I was happy to hear from her.

“No!” she said, surprising me, “I dialed you this time! I had to try every single possible number until I did!” I immediately imagined countless people crank called by a young child. Looking for me. She was looking for ME. “And I did it!” She sounded so proud. And she'd been looking for me.

“Wow.” I managed. It was easy to keep emotion out of my voice, but I could feel it resonating into the ghost world around me, and Sissel certainly felt it. He rubbed against my head, purring curiously. “You are one determined little girl.”

“That's what my daddy says!”

“Its impressive! Don't you want to talk to your friend, though?” I was petting Sissel with my other hand, the sensation of it relieving some of my pent-up energy. Why me? Why had she called me?

“Well, yes. I wanna call Amilie and invite her over to make a cake for daddy... but you're my friend too!”

“Uh.” Friend? “You only know me from one call...” I protested weakly, “You don't know who I am. I'm a stranger...”

“Nuh-uh.” she said, “Now I have your number, so I can call you lots and lots. That means we're going to be friends, so we might as well be friends now, right?”

“... Sure.” I said. It was logic of a sort, and I didn't think I could argue with that. “Okay.” And why not? What harm would it do to have a child who thought the mysterious dead man on the phone was her friend? Possibly a lot, but... a friend. I kind of wanted that. “So. Friend.” I tasted the word in my mouth. Not bad. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s talk!” she said, “About... stuff!”

I looked at the open door and the night outside. I thought about the plans I had. I thought about the preparations I had made, carefully, up until this night. I thought about the pain I felt every day, the fuel for the vengeance that burned inside of me. I thought about Sissel, perched on my shoulder. I thought about the girl on the phone... and, briskly, with my spirit abilities, I closed the door on the night and slid a chair over. “All right.” I said, sitting down in it, “Let’s talk.”

Chapter Text

I waited this time for the tell-tale ring of the phone. I was patient, but anxious. Now was the time she was supposed to call, and now was the moment of truth. Would she leave me here, waiting, or would she call me?

Our call was now a regular part of my not-life, thrice weekly. It was a schedule as regular as breathing, and it had become just as necessary, a literal lifeline.

On the nights she was to call me, all things stopped. All tricks, all traps, all errands were secondary and thus suspended as I made sure that I – and my shell – were there to receive the receiver and speak to her.

I stared at the phone. If my palms could sweat, I knew they would. My spirit trembled, waiting... waiting...

RING!

I picked up immediately. “Hi, Kamila.” I said, relieved.

“Hi, Mister!” she said.

I was always afraid she wouldn't call.

“How was your day today, Kami?” I asked, “How did the test go?”

“It was a test...” I could imagine her making a face by the phone, scrunching up her cherubic features in an adorable way.

“That's all?”

“That's all that needs to be said about that.” I laughed – she sounded so mature. But she was only a child, younger than 10, far ahead of her grade. Sneakily, I sent a bit of my spirit down the phone line, becoming aware of where she was; she was in the family room. It was filled with a model roller coaster in the making and the sounds of a TV set. There was barely enough room for the people in it, including the stocky detective who would, later in the evening, squeeze into the room and sit in his favorite recliner. Kamila sat, kicking her white-socked feet. “But something interesting did happen today!”

“Oh?” Yes, I knew who she was – the daughter of my nemesis, the man I hated. I had found that out easily, doing just as I was doing now, peeking beyond the end of the wire. But she'd just kept talking, and somehow I felt I could handle it. I didn’t know why.

“Mmhmm! Cheryl found something really neat in the playground today! We all got to look at it!”

“What did she find?” I asked, smiling. It was really fine, that the Detective was her father. It meant that I definitely couldn’t hurt her to get to him, I wasn’t sure if I could stand it. Me, hurt my only connection to the world of the living - my literal lifeline? I could tolerate a little suffering in my unlife, but these calls… they were as essential as my now-stilled heart. It did throw a hitch or two into my plans, but that was the thing about plans: they always needed to be revised.

“A bug! A big, ugly, shiny one!” she said proudly.

“Wow!” I said, “You know, when I was your age, I had a pet bug.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm! I kept it in a big plastic container and fed it fruit mush. It was very big, a little spikey, and very shiny.”

“That sounds like the bug Cheryl found!”

“It was probably a lot like the bug she found! Beetles make good pets, you know, and you can find them wild around here.” I said. It was a memory from long ago, and I savored it. I didn't often think about my childhood these days – it seemed so far off, so full of potential compared to now. Still, it was better to linger there than on memories of... her. “Did you know that the hard stuff on a bug is called its carapace? And that the special science name for beetles means shield? Because their wing plates are like a shield?”

“Huh?” she said, confuse

“I thought it was cool.” I said, pretending to be disappointed. Outwardly and inwardly, I was grinning.

“Oh, no, Mister! It is cool!” she said frantically, and I tried not to laugh, “They have a shield on their backs! Like a turtle! That's really cool, Mister, don’t worry.” She really was wonderful. I relaxed, smiling. This was why I waited for these calls.

“Mister?” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think... We could catch bugs together sometime?”

“What?” The question had come out of nowhere. “You and... your friend?”

“You and me. Do you want to go out and catch bugs sometime?” she paused, “you know a lot about them, and it sounds like a fun thing to do...”

“With me? I, uh...” Of all the things, I hadn't expected this. Somehow, though, I knew that this was inevitable. Of course she would want to meet me in the flesh. “Um, so, you want to... meet up?”

“Mmhmm...” She hesitated – I didn't need to peek over the phone to see her fidgeting, “I-I mean, if it's all right with you, mister...”

“Yomi. You should call me Mister Yomi. We... we know each other well enough at this point, right?” She was quiet. “Look, Kamila, it's fine, but you should talk to your parents first. I mean, I'm a stranger, right? You're not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“You're not a stranger! You're Mister Yomi! You have a cat named Sissy!” She blustered into the phone. Sissel, I wanted to correct her, but that wasn't the point. “You're my friend!”

“I'm fine with it...” I said warily, “But talk to your mom and dad. Make sure they're okay with meeting me.”

She inhaled as if about to argue further... but no argument was forthcoming. “You're right, Mister.” she sighed, “I'll talk to them tonight.”

“All right,” I said, “Good.” there was a brief moment of silence – anxious silence that I knew I had to break. “So, a funny thing happened to me today...” I began, and that was that. The call continued for another few wonderful minutes until her dad arrived home from a long day at work.

I turned to Sissel as I hung up the phone. “I hope they say no...” I said to him. He looked at me with his big yellow eyes, and blinked once.

It was as if he knew I was lying.

Chapter Text

She called early this time, somehow just as I returned from a prior engagement. I knew it was her because no one else bothered to call this number, but it was highly unusual. In fact, given our schedule, she wasn't supposed to call at all. This made her call the fourth call this week. Not that I minded.

“Hey, Kamila.” I said, balancing the phone against my shoulder as I took off my suit jacket and set it aside - it needed to be dry cleaned and professionally stitched up. Or, maybe, it was time to buy a new suit for myself, as a treat. Just because I was dead didn't mean I couldn't look nice, right?

“Mister Yomi! Mister Yomi!” She wasn't shouting, but her voice through the telephone was amplified by hope and excitement into something that might have hurt my ears – not that anything hurt my senses at all these days. “They said yes, Mister Yomi!”

“They... Oh.” I felt a flicker of dismay and joy, and I took a moment to calm myself. “Your parents said yes.”

“They said yes!” she said again. I didn't have to look for myself to know that she was bouncing up and down next to her phone – her voice said it all.

“They're really okay with us meeting?” I was incredulous. One would think that a detective and his wife would be more careful about letting some grown stranger meet their elementary school-age precious only daughter.

“Yep!” she said, as if that was all that needed to be said. “So, when should we meet, Mister Yomi? Where should we meet? Are you going to bring Sissy with you?”

“Wait, wait... are they letting you go alone?” I asked. This was all going so fast, and I just had to be sure.

“Oh! No. One's going to go with me.” she said.

“Oh. Good. You shouldn't do these sorts of things without a parent handy.” Inwardly, I bit my lip. It would be awkward either way, but if it was her father… that could be… bad. I was barely ready to meet my initial intended victim and nowhere near ready to face my murderer. But of course – no one would send the one person I was ready to connect with alone.

“Of course not!” she said. Such a sensible child. I picked up Sissel and pet him, holding him until he made himself comfortable on my lap. I couldn’t feel his warmth, but his friendship was warming enough for me to get some comfort from it.

Whatever happened, good or bad, Jowd or Alma, I knew deep in my soul that I had to give it a shot. A poor choice of words, given the situation. Sissel meowed and headbutted my chin.

“Oh! Is that Sissy?”

“Yep!” I said.

“Hi Sissy!” Sissel meowed his own response, and she giggled on the other end.

“He says hello back.” I said, closing my eyes wearily. This was going to be... interesting. And I saw no way to avoid it. “How about... Saturday afternoon. Temsik park. Do you think that will work?” I asked. There was no way to avoid taking this chance, not if I wanted to continue this phone thing. And I did. I needed it, otherwise I would drown in darkness. Now that there was a way out… I wanted to grab that thread of light and climb it as far as I could.

So, I set a date.

“I'll talk to them!” She said. I heard a voice in the background – her father's? Was he off today? Good for him. “I gotta go!” she said, “Daddy's taking me to a baseball game! Do you like baseball, Mr. Yomi?”

“I like it well enough.” I said, smirking. Detective Jowd's baseball habit was well known to me. I'd spent some time in one of his signed baseballs. It was a handy enough core. “Maybe...” I let the thought die. Going to a baseball game with her would likely involve the detective, and I would rather encounter him in Temsik park than in a crowded stadium. More history there.

“Bye, Mister Yomi!” she said hurriedly, “I just wanted to make sure you knew! Bye bye!”

And then the call was done. I sat back.

“Well.” I said to Sissel, “That's happening.”

Chapter Text

Temsik Park. That was where it had all ended for me – my hopes, my dreams, my needs... Everything. The exact place where I'd died was very close, still a crater and off-limits, even after all of these years. I wonder if Kamila knew what her father had done that day. When he'd killed me.

Kamila and I were going to meet in person. I could hardely believe it, that she had wanted to go, that I had gone along with it, that her parents hadn't stopped her… Truthfully, it was a terrible idea, and not just because I was a grown man off to meet a child who wasn’t blood or family… If she was anyone else’s daughter, and if I wasn't a corpse – a dead shell animated by a lost soul – it would actually be adorable. But of course, she was the daughter of Detective Jowd, and she had said she would be bringing a parent along. Smart of her. Smart of them. But what if it was her father? I was trapped in time. Five years had given him creases in his face and scars on his skin and soul, but it hadn't done anything to me. He would know me, clear as day.

He could ruin everything.

And if it was her mother? It would be considerably better, but so very awkward. What would I say to her? “Hi, I'm Yomiel, I was plotting your death up until very recently?” or maybe “Nothing personal, I just hate your husband?” No, you really didn't say that to someone. It made a terrible first impression, and first impressions were everything. They could make or break... Whatever this was. Whatever this was going to be.

Of course, I wasn't going in unprepared! I was a coward, haunting a lamppost, waiting for Kamila to arrive at the meeting spot. I still had a chance to back out of this, to never arrive. I could also zip back to my body and puppet it, oh-so-gracefully, to meet her. Possibly with ice cream – that would make a fantastic first impression... If I chose to do so.

I could still back out of this. I was just a phone-friend. I wasn't even really her friend. She didn't know me, who I was, what I was... If she knew the truth...  No one befriends the dead.

It looked like she was keeping her side of the bargain – she moved into view, at exactly the appointed time. 3:00 sharp. Temsik park. “Mama, come on!” she said, dragging the tall, purple-haired woman into view. “He's going to be here soon!”

“All right, all right! You'll tear my hand off tugging like that! I'm coming!” the woman laughed. Alma Jowd. Her mother. The detective's wife.

Well, at least it isn't Jowd himself.

“I just want you to be here – right here – when we meet him!” Kamila said, though she slowed down. Her voice sounded higher pitched than usual, her eyes blazing with surprising fire as she moved, determinedly, towards the bench.

“Well, he isn't here now so we have plenty of time...”

I sunk into the ghost world, contemplating my options. This was my last chance – meet her or don't? Risk it all, or let the plan run its course? Quietly, I decided, and jumped between cores.

“So, this Yomiel man... when did he say he'd meet you?”

“Right now!” said Kamila, kicking her feet back and forth as she waited.

“Was he going to be wearing anything in particular?”

The two sat, side by side. They were very nearly identical in pose – definitely mother and daughter. It was there in their eyes, too – bright and open, but focused and determined. They were good people, the both of them, but when they did something, they DID it, and it was best to get out of their way!

“Um... He said he'd be wearing a red suit... oh!” Kamila giggled, “and he'd have his kitty with him!”

“What sort of cat?” asked her mother.

“Um... He said Sissy is a black kitty, and that he put a handkerchief on his neck so that they'd match!”

“That's... really cute.” It wasn't hard to tell that her mother – that Alma – was not sure about this meeting at all. “Are you sure he's coming?”

“Mmhmm!” Kamila said, searching the crowds, “I'm sure he's here!”

“He most certainly is.” I said, swinging out from behind a tree. “Hello, Kamila?”

Her small face lit up. “Ah!” she swung forward, letting gravity do the work of helping her stand. “Are you Yomi?”

I tipped my sunglasses with my free hand. “I definitely am.” I said, lifting the bundle in my other arm. It meowed. “And this is Sissel – he didn't feel like walking today.” In truth, he did – I just wanted him close. Had I had nerves, they would be trembling.

“Sissy!” she squealed, reaching up to pet him. He shifted unhappily in my hands, upset at his confinement.

I turned to the woman – the woman who I'd spied on, plotted against, hated. “Hi.” I said, “I'm Yomiel. You must be her mother.” The only other option would have been sister, to be honest. Sissel wiggled, and I - reluctantly, put him down. I offered my now free hand to the woman. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” I smiled my most charming smile.

“Oh...!” She seemed surprised. I understood – I was too. I'd almost not joined them at all. “Well!” She shook my hand – tight and professional, but not too tight. Not that it would have mattered, in all honesty. “I'm Alma, and I am her mother... it's nice to meet you too!”

“Good.” I looked down at Sissel, who was being adored. By my 'date'. “Heh – Did you invite me just for Sissel? Is that it?” I teased, crouching to her level, “It's okay – it's happened before. He's a charming cat.” Sissel made a face at me, and Kamila giggled.

“No!” Kamila said, laughing even as she denied it.

“Are you sure? He likes you.” I said, smirking.

“No! I invited you!” she said, hands on hips, “And you're here!”

“Yes, I am!” I said, “Almost didn't make it, though – traffic was a pain. And I had to scout out all the ice cream stalls – you know how they are. Sometimes twenty are open, sometimes none...” I said, in all seriousness.

“Ice cream?!” she exclaimed.

“Sure. Want to get some?” I stood up and stretched, “How about you, Mrs. Alma? Do you want some too? My treat.”

“Yes!” said Kamila, jumping for joy. Heh – kids. It looked like I'd hit the nail on the head there – after all, what else did one do with a kid you didn't know? Ice cream. That was the answer. And what did you do with her mom?

“Well, all right.” said Alma, a real glimmer of a smile shining through. A real genuine smile, on a face practiced to lying. Clearly, ice cream was the answer too. She was suspicious, and I didn't blame her.

This was, after all, her daughter.

“Sure, lets get some ice cream. And then we can do whatever you want.” I smiled at Kamila as we began to walk. She smiled back, and I felt... good.

First impressions.

They counted for a lot.

***

There was something about sharing ice cream with a little girl, her mother, and a cat on a park bench. There was something about conversation and walks and romps in the playground. There was something about doing all of this in the bright light of day... They were good people, the Jowds – at least, Alma and Kamila. They were direct and forceful, but they had a way about them that made you feel at home.  I could almost forget. All of it.

Almost.

Because every time Alma asked a politely probing question about me and my life, I remembered. All the pain, all the frustration and sorrow and regrets... they all sprung to the forefront as I lied.

“Where do you work?”

“Nowhere currently! Taking a break from it all to enjoy life. No one stops to do that these days, have you noticed?” Ha. I wished. There was no life to enjoy.

“What did you do, then?”

“I worked in computers.” Not a lie. I missed them.

“Do you live alone?”

“I live with my cat.” A nice quip. A sad quip. “It's just us.”

“What do you do at night, when my daughter calls you?”

“I go out. I take walks with my cat.”

“Where to?”

“Oh, here and there...”

She had a right to ask these questions. Working for the prosecutor's office would do that for someone. I asked none of my own – I knew more than she would ever want me to know about her. I knew when she came home, tired and hungry, but still made sure her daughter was fed and her husband had something to eat. I knew when she waited up for her husband, too scared to even cry with worry. I knew that her favorite food was spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, and that her favorite music was smooth, romantic jazz, though it was only secretly so: anyone she met thought she liked classical music and classical music alone. I knew how fierce she could be in court, and how tender she could be with her daughter.

I was the stranger here. She had the right to question me. I had the right to give her lies and half answers. The truth... was impossible.

“I swear I've seen you before...” she said, thoughtfully.

“I just have one of those faces.” I said, taking off my sunglasses. “Or maybe it's the glasses. How about now?”

“No, you're right.” she said. Was she convinced? Had she ever seen my face? Had Jowd ever told her about me? I realized that, of all of the things I knew about the little family, the tiny details and minutiae, I didn’t know if she knew.

Kamila chattered on about her inventions in between interrogations. She was brilliant, despite her age, and it was honestly hard to follow. The point was that she'd made the choice to trust me, and I knew that that was as much gift as burden. Could I betray her? Dare I? I didn't want to. I felt too good.

Finally, the time came for me to leave, and for them to leave. “Hey,” I said, “That was fun. How about a museum next?”

“Sure!” said Kamila, “I love museums! What about the Kid’s Museum? They have this biiiig mobile, and...”

“Sure.” said her mother, “We'll let you know.”

“Hear from you soon!” I said, making a phone gesture at my ear.

“See you!” called Kamila. I watched her go, and then clicked at Sissel.

“Come on.” I said, as my ever-present shadow reluctantly leapt to my shoulder and made himself comfortable there, “let’s go.”

Well. I thought, as I strode to darker avenues, That was pleasant.

Chapter Text

Going to the museum required a little bit more planning than just meeting at a park, so I did some preliminary investigation. Of course, I did other things too. I was a master of multitasking, though to be honest, my “day job” didn't exactly go with a kids museum. Not in the slightest.

Not that I had a single steady job. No, I was more freelance than anything. That's what I told myself, anyway, as I bludgeoned a man in a dark alley with a baseball bat. Not to death – oh no – but he would wish he was dead by the time I was done and would feel a whole lot worse if he didn't pay the person who was paying me today. I made sure he knew it. Several times.

I wiped off the handle and the bat and tossed it in the trash. Id' thought about donating it to a school as a gift but, lately, the idea of children playing with such a weapon had made me uneasy. I'd been paying attention to children a lot more lately as I walked. They never noticed me – no one did – but I'd been struck at their blatant emotions. Shyness, loneliness, anxiety, joy, love... they showed them so plainly. The adults’ emotions were rarely so plain on their faces. Blank. False. Plain. Tired. They had grown up, and the world weighed them down. They didn’t know what they had.

I watched the crowds pass by, envying both child and adult before I joined them. I made my way to the Kids Museum, which was convenient because it was only a few blocks away – enough to walk to with ease. I could have made it faster in the ghost world, done my sleuthing that way, but I wanted them to recognize my handsome personage. At least, I thought I did. I was nearby, so why not go as myself?

I looked up at the large and colorfully painted doors to the museum, feeling out of place. This was a place frequented by parents with children – an adult on their own, me, seemed like an oddity. I would stand out. I didn't care – I pushed my way into the doors and went to the information desk with plain purpose, picking up a brochure and leafing through it.

The museum seemed to focus on science and building, a sort of breeding ground for young science-minded children. Or just curious children who wanted to touch and play and do things with their world.  Science demonstrations (the fun kind) were just around the corner. A giant mess of building blocks was advertised as an 'architecture center,' foam, of course, to prevent injury. Gears and contraptions and lightshows – and a theater. There was space to run. There was space to play. There were healthy snacks and comfortable seats. I flipped through the brochure, and wished I'd had this place as a kid -- I'd have been all over it.

“Hi!” I looked up at a cheery woman – early twenties – manning the counter, “Can I help you?”

I returned her professional smile with one of my own, tucking the brochure away. “Hi – I'm planning a trip here, and I was wondering what a good place would be to start?”

“Okay, what does your child like?”

“Oh, she's not mine.” I corrected, though I didn't know why I was so vehement, “She's... a friend's, but I'm taking her here. As a treat.”

Her smile faltered, though I didn't know why exactly. What I'd said wasn't so unusual, was it? Friends took friend's families out to museums, right? “Er, yes.”

I kept my charming facade up, taking off my sunglasses in an attempt to reassure her of... what? My innocence? Why was she looking at me so strangely now? “She's really into mechanics – she invents things. Her parents are in law enforcement.”

“Oh.” What, did that change something? How?

“Do you have anything that would be really good for her to start with?”

“Oh, ah, well, we have an exhibit on working women – women in careers,” her smile was back, just as before. “It's called 'Girls Only,' you can see it on the map here.” she pointed to an exhibit room in the back. “It has large pictures and biographies of women from many professions – doctors, lawyers, policewomen, engineers, programmers, CEOs, zookeepers. We want to show little girls that they can be anything.”

“Programming, huh,” I smiled and scribbled a note on the brochure. “That's a nice exhibit.”

“It is!” She said, nodding encouragingly, “It's not open yet, but it will be soon – I think it will be a hit!”

Soon, huh. “All right. We'll come here when it's open.” So not for a while, but that would be fine. “It's a shame, though,” I said, musingly, “that an exhibit like that needs to exist... Does it go into how hard it can be for a woman in those fields?”

“Yeah...” her smile faltered again, like a flickering flame. “Well, no, we wanted it to be inspirational. It's better for kids, you know? To have hope.”

“Right.” Was it better to have hope, or to know that the road was hard? Well, this place boasted that it had educational experts working on its exhibits, so they probably knew more than I did. “All right – that sounds perfect for her.” I looked up at the ceiling in the lobby – a high dome, dominated by a huge mobile, just as Kamila had said. “What’s the story with that thing, anyway?”

“Oh! That!” she said perkily, “It was made by children at an elementary school a few blocks away. It was an art project – in the style of a collection of famous artists.” 

I could see it – the swirling paint style of van Gogh, a few stumpy pigs and cows in a spinning farm scene up above sort of renaissance-like... and the whole mobile looked a little like a Calder. I stared at it as it gently twisted and spun. Sissel would have loved this. I thought, remembering another museum long ago, on the arm of my fiancé, paintings finally making sense to me after years of boredom. I remembered an easel in her apartment, thick with the smell of paint and turpentine and old books...

“Sir?”

I looked back at her, my smile a little off. “Sorry, I was... thinking.” I said. Yes - thinking about what could have been. Of what had been.

She smiled, almost relieved. “Oh, yes, it has that effect! It's one of our biggest features – we'll never take it down.”

I nodded appreciatively and thanked her, before walking away perhaps a little more quickly than normal. It hurt to remember. It hurt to think about what it would have been like, to take children here. A child of mine and Sissel's... would they love art? Or would they want for more, to grasp one of the careers in the “Girls Only” exhibit, so carefully encouraged. What would they have found here, among the exhibits? I would never know.

“Sir?”

I turned back, frowning at the ghostly memories. “Hmm?”

“You have... ah... blood on your suit.” she gestured to her upper body. I looked down. It was hard to see against the red of my suit (Crimson I remembered, thinking of paint,) but it was there.

“Oh! Thank you!” I took out a handkerchief and wiped it away. It showed up bright red – so bright (Candy red) on my handkerchief. “I must have...” I tucked the handkerchief away, scrambling for an excuse, “cut myself shaving.”

I faked my biggest, most charming smile, and left.

Chapter Text

Another day in the park. Why not? I couldn't think of a reason to not spend my day there. The light of vengeance, so bright in the dark despair of my un-life, paled before the fun I had there with Kamila. As long as it was her mother coming with her and joining us in the park, I saw no problems and no reason why I shouldn't! It would be fine. I didn’t even feel guilty that I was dragging Alma away from her busy job – I didn’t care.

I met her in person this time, more or less blind. No scouting, no cowardice, no playing in the ghost world -- no hesitation. Just courage. Just... well, hope, I supposed. There was hope there. Was that, I wondered, why the detective always returned home, never stopping at a bar, never delaying longer than he had to? For hope?

“Hi, Mister Yomiel!” Kamila said. She waved at me as I approached, dressed, I noticed, in adorable brown khaki pants and a rough-and-tumble T shirt. It was not her usual attire... nor, indeed, was the bug net she was carrying in her hand, almost as big as she was by the looks of it.

“Just Yomiel. Or Yomi – either works. What's that for?” I asked, smiling, hands in pockets as I slouched over to her.

“We're catching bugs!” she said, squinting quizzically at me. “Where's yours?”

“Uh.” I'd forgotten the net. Or, I'd mixed it up with something else. It happened, from time to time, and my nights were so busy... “I, uh.”

“You forgot, didn't you?” she said, crossing her arms and pouting, her voice almost a mirror of her mothers in her sternness. I looked over at Alma, who pretended not to hear, though I could see her smirk from behind the book she was reading.

“Y... yeah.” I said, embarrassed. I tried to remember the call from the night before. Had she said anything about this? Or the night before that? They were all blurring together into a warm haze. It was embarrassing, but it was nice, in a way, that it was so normal now. I’d take it. “When did you tell me about this?”

“... Um.” she paused, frowning, “Didn't I tell you last night?”

“I don't think so...” I tried to remember again, “... no.” I said with certainty, “I don't think you did.” And now I was sure it was true. We'd talked about the park, we'd talked about meeting up, we'd talked about her homework. Bugs hadn't been mentioned at all.

“Oh,” she said, expression downcast. “But I did tell you, though,” she said, expression quickly becoming defiant. “Remember? I said I liked bugs, and you said you did too, and we promised to go bug catching together!”

“Yeah, we did.” I said, remembering that conversation, a fond smile creeping over my face, “but that was a while ago, Kamila!”

“So?!” she said, her cheeks puffing out. Where did she get her defiant stubbornness, I wondered, from her mother or her father? Both, most likely.

“Well, you need to mention these things closer to the day,” I said, taking off my red suit jacket and putting it neatly on the bench, “Like during the week. Or yesterday. Adults are very busy, you know, and I need time to find a good net. But I guess I'll just use yours!” I rolled up my sleeves. “Let’s do this.”

“Really?” She looked at the rest of my clothing – it was nice clothing, made for the suit jacket, best for a job interview or just looking snazzy all the time. “But you'll get dirty.” Her feelings were complicated. She didn’t want me to ruin my clothes, but she wanted to win the argument, and I could almost watch her trying to figure out which one would prevail. Kids had it hard.

It's only going to get worse from here on out, though. I thought, sympathetic to Alma's plight as a mother of a growing girl. “Don't worry about it.” I said, holding my hand out for the collection box, “Let’s go catch some bugs, all right?”

“Okay!” Kamila looked at her mother, “Mom?”

Alma looked up from her book – as if I wouldn't notice that she was watching like a hawk over the top of the book. “Go ahead, Kamila. But don't go too far.”

I nodded. “Of course, Ma'am.” I said. The trust she was putting in me was startling and addictive. I wanted more. “Come on, Kamila, we can catch something around here.”

“Right! In those bushes, maybe?” she pointed to a patch of brush.

“Sure.” I said.

I left my powers out of it – I could have found every bug and flown them right into her net. But I didn't – instead, we stalked them and flushed them, the same way I had when I had been a kid long ago, with my life ahead of me still.

Kamila ruled the bug catching with her tiny iron fists. She dictated when and where to go, and who would chase butterflies down the path, and who would climb the tree after a fleeing beetle. Sometimes that was me. Sometimes, that was her, laughing as she swiped her net on an elusive bug and then, with care, brought it out of the net and into the collection box. I envied her.

What I wouldn't give to feel the wind in my hair, the beat of my own heart in my ears, the exultation of living. I didn't mind that my suit became dirty and scuffed, that twigs and leaves prodded me, that my shoes were terrible for running in. I couldn't feel any of it, and I longed to. I tried to feel attuned to nature, that sense of blissful peace that I once had had chasing after bugs in the playground and the park. That I felt, a little bit, enough to make things a little less unnatural. A little less numb.

Eventually, even she was tired (she of nearly limitless energy!) I studied her as she flopped onto the bench near her mother, and I wished I could feel what she felt. Exhaustion, heat, sweat after an afternoon of running and play... I felt nothing, just a cold puppet of meat and bone. “This was easier when I was younger.” I said, jokingly, an attempt to lighten my own mood.

“You did this as a kid, right, Mister Yomiel?” Kamila asked, grinning as she caught her breath.

“When I was ten.” I said, “just a bit older than you, right?”

“Mm-hmm!” she confirmed.

“When I grew up, I stopped doing going out and hunting bugs.” I continued, looking at our finds scurrying about the container. Poor little things. I could sense their cores in the world of the dead. I could be any one of them, at any time, if I wished. “I got really into my schoolwork, and I didn't go outside so much when I was older. Can't go out with a computer, you know?”

She eyed me. “... What were you like when you were my age?” she asked, though I could see that she was looking at the insects too. I saw them as objects, things I could possess and ride around in for a time. How does she see them?

I chuckled and glanced at Alma. She was paying attention now, the pretense of the book now put aside. Sissel sat near her – on my jacket, happy to be in the sun. It was very comfortable here. I weighed the options, but my decision wasn't hard. What’ll it hurt? “I was a little brat.” I said with a grin, “I teased everyone, I went everywhere and got into everything. I got into trouble more often than not –”

“Like what?” Kamila's interest was piqued at the mention of trouble.

“Oh, the usual... pulling girl's hair, making fun of people, goading friends into doing things they really shouldn't, running off to go catch bugs, bringing those bugs to class and letting them loose...” I smiled fondly at the memories. “I was a bad kid, but I never got away with it. Me and the principal got to know each other very well, and I got a lot of detention... it was a good place to do homework in, honestly.” I shrugged, “I did like homework, and I couldn't really do it at home. Heh. Maybe that's why I got in trouble all of the time? Who knows.”

That part caught Alma's attention. “Why couldn't you do that at home?” She asked, and I realized that I had gotten too comfortable, let slip too much. Or had I? How much to tell? How much not to tell? How much did I want to tell?

“It... wasn't a very quiet home.” I said with a shrug, looking away. It was odd – I wanted to tell her, to tell both of them about myself, as if it would somehow bring me out of the shadows of obscurity. To be known, to be cared about... that would give me life. But at the same time, they were Jowd's family. The enemy. I bit my lip, a gesture I hoped she would read. Honestly, that part of my story wasn't even really appropriate for Kamila. Death had dealt me a terrible hand, but life hadn’t exactly given me winners in my younger years. The middle bits were nice, though. “Anyway, I haven't caught bugs for years.”

“I see.” Alma said. What did she see when she looked at me? Was I like a bug in a cage, strange but contained? Or was I just an amorphous potential threat, a hornet that hovered at their table?

The thought made me much less comfortable. I made a show of checking my watch. “I have to go.” I said, lifting my cat from his comfortable resting place and putting on my suit jacket, “I have to... be somewhere.”

Alma saw through my bluff. I knew it. “Kamila, go help Yomiel free the bugs first.”

Kamila hopped off the bench. “Okay!” she said, picking up the container, “Let’s let them out over there.” she pointed at the brush we'd started with. A suitable spot for freed bugs, I supposed.

“You're not going to keep them?” I asked, adjusting my suit.

“Nah – bugs are supposed to be free.”

I managed a smirk. “Hey, that's true.”

We put the container down and opened the lid before dumping the bugs out in a milling pile. “Bye, bye bugs!” she said to them, waving a dirty hand.

I couldn't help it. “'Bye bugs.” I said, waving to them as well.

“I didn't have all the stuff to keep them as pets.” she explained as I walked her back, “but maybe next time.” She looked up at me, “you'll come out next time, right?”

“I...” I paused, and then entered the ghost world. Everything glowed blue, frozen in time. Cores shimmered all around me, inviting me into them if I wished it. I could see the blue aura of the meteorite fragment inside of me, bathing her in its strange radiation, her own core oblivious.

I couldn't make myself vulnerable to these people, but I wanted to tell them everything. I hurt, and I wanted to hurt them – to hurt Jowd – but I wanted to be their friends and taste some of their happiness. I mused on those two words with confused, chaotic darkness. How many next times could I get? I wanted to go and think, but I didn't want this moment – this moment where someone saw me, heard me, and wanted to see me again – to end.

In the silence of the world of the dead, my soul conflicted and flickering, I reached out to Kamila, touching the core that represented her briefly. It was so alive, so warm, so innocent, a bit like sunlight. I could stay there, I knew. I could ride around – be her – but it felt wrong to do that now.

Just as it felt wrong to run away.

I moved back to my shell of a body and left the ghost world. “Yes.” I said, “Of course, anytime you want... just...” I smiled, “Just let me know first, all right? And remind me about the bug net next time, so I don’t forget.”

“Sure!” she said, beaming.

“See you later.” I said, picking up Sissel, “See you both later.” I said, adding Alma.

“Bye, Yomiel!” Kamila said, as I turned to walk away.

“See you.” said Alma.

I waved at them with my free hand as Sissel climbed onto my shoulder. I stroked him idly as I walked away. Not from my friend, but towards her promise, the two words that made the world just that much less unbearable.

Next time...

Chapter Text

A check of my calendar reassured me that I hadn’t forgotten – the kids museum exhibit, girls only, opening soon. I had the ticket and, today, I would invite Kamila. And then we would go. And it would be so much fun… I checked again, though, of course, the calendar wasn’t going to change if I looked away.

I felt a strange exhilaration, a phantom feeling that coated my tongue – though, of course, I had none of those physiological responses anymore. It was odd, too, to be excited considering… well, considering everything. I shouldn’t be excited, I knew. I couldn’t quite explain why I shouldn’t feel this way… but I knew it was wrong and strange and temporary. So temporary.

But I was excited anyway.

Today, I would meet Kamila in the park. I would talk to her and her mom about the exhibit. I felt a thrill of fear, but nothing – nothing at all – could go wrong. That was my plan, and it was perfect. I tried not to crumple the ticket as I tucked it into my pocket.

Sissel jumped onto the counter and meowed. “Are you looking forward to this, too?” I asked him. Meeting Kamila and her mother had happened enough times for it to feel right. We’d gone bug catching, discussed current events, told stories, and annoyed the cat. She was a great woman, with a great daughter, and I was glad to have met her.

“Oh, I can’t forget this!” I said, packing a book I’d seen that I thought Kamila would enjoy – a science book for children that seemed age appropriate, (insofar as Kamila herself was age appropriate.) Sissel stared at me, blinking. “What, too much?” He blinked again, “I don’t think it’s too much.” The first aid kid, coloring book, blanket, cat toy, and a cool picture of a cloud, however… “What am I doing?” I asked him, laughing at the absurdity. It really was too much, too much in the bag, too much on the mind… but I didn’t care.

“It’s too much to take, Sissel, but don’t give me that look.” I picked him up and cuddled him, “I just want everything to go well. I want to have a good day at the park. That’s all. So don’t give me that look.” Still, I decided to leave most of it at home.

“Let’s go!” I said, excitedly, and left my apartment with cat (and the science book, the thing I didn’t want to leave behind) in tow. I was happy and I was going to let it happen. I deserved it. As I left, I hummed a tune – a merry thing, nothing in particular. Just something happy, something that expressed my joy. It was like flowers in a graveyard, a little bit of brightness for the dead man Yomiel. It was color added to my life, and I was grateful. It was something that I deserved.

It was also a gorgeous day – bright and clear, but not too bright or too clear. Just right for play or for work. A day to be alive. And, despite the intrusive numbness, I did feel alive. With a purpose. Among the living, for the first time in so many years. Where could I go from here? Would I spend more time with Kamila? Would I rebuild a ‘life’ for myself, an afterlife, something more than limbo? I had no idea what I would do, but maybe, if I just kept doing exactly this, spending time with people and enjoying my days…

Maybe I would figure it out from there.

The park was bustling with people, all of them having the same idea as I did, all of them alive and living. And me, among them. I hastened towards our usual meeting spot, considering – briefly – buying an ice cream for Kamila preemptively. But no, that, I decided, would be a little too much, creepily so.

The thought was… slightly darkening, like a cloud over the sun. Kamila was my friend, but I was still an adult, and she was still a child, and there were concerns. Reasonable concerns. She gave me purpose, but was it appropriate for her to be my only purpose?

Her and Sissel, I corrected myself, they were the living people in my life, the people who were on my thoughts, on my mind. It was amazing how many actions they seemed to govern, how many times thoughts of them arose. A kid and a cat – were they enough to ‘live’ on? So far, yes. But for the future? Well, I finally felt like there would be a future. That was something. That was, I thought, something special.

The crowd parted before me as our meeting spot came into view, and suddenly, that future became uncertain for before me stood the whole Jowd family. Kamila, her mother, and… My nemesis.

I froze, reaching for Sissel in both my physical body and in the ghost world. They hadn’t seen me – I could run. I could leave. There was time to leave.

But how? If I turned, they would still see me. If I leapt to Sissel, then they’d have a dead body on their hands. Time did not freeze as I deliberated, the ice-cool of the ghost world did not touch the brilliant color of the living world this time. It was all a matter of perspective, a desperate grasping at the hourglass sands slipping away. So, in slow motion, I saw them turn. In slow motion, I felt my momentum move me forward. As three pairs of eyes turned towards me – two smiling, one confused, I realized it was too late.

I had been seen.

I took a step closer, bag falling from my numb fingers along with the cat. Sissel ran nimbly to Kamila, the normalcy of his friendliness conflicting with the expression on the detective’s face as he began to recognize me. His wife had noticed too, her face changed from greeting to uncertainty. I could feel the path behind me burning away, and my wonderful future too. It had only been a fantasy, anyway.

“What’s the matter, Detective Jowd?” I managed to choke out. Something had to be said, after all, to fill what felt like a stifling silence. I suddenly felt aflame too with a burning hatred that hadn’t died at all, only suppressed itself beneath affection for my new friends. I could not hate Kamila, I could not harm Alma, but Jowd… “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You… you’re…” he gasped. It was funny, in a way, to see him gasping like a dying fish, pale in the light of day.

I laughed bitterly, as the sunshine and glory of the day began to burn like hellfire. Like hate. “Yomiel.” I said, smiling. It was so easy to smile – just a manipulation. I didn’t feel like smiling… I felt like screaming. Like crying. Like howling my laughter at the clouds. “Surely, you didn’t forget my name. Surely, you didn’t forget me…” I wished that this was a nightmare that I could wake from, but I’d known I couldn’t wake from this long ago. There was no hope for that now, and no going back to the sunny day of before. “The man you killed.”

“How…?”

“Let’s leave that as one of the mysteries of the universe.” I focused on his face – and only his face. I didn’t want to see Kamila’s reaction. I didn’t want to think about what was happening now. If I focused on him, and only him… this was my chance. It wasn’t how I’d planned it, but I could get revenge. I could send him to keep my fiancé company on the other side. I could make him pay… I began to approach, all sinister ice-cold calm, not stopping even when he pulled his service pistol out.

“Stop!” he cried out. I didn’t.

“I’m sure you remember what happened, all those years ago. In this very park, no less.” I said, feeling strange and energized. I had nothing to fear, after all, nothing to lose. My voice was even, but I still felt like it quivered. “I died for a crime I never committed. I could have done so much good, detective. But when you cornered me here, you killed me, and all the good I could have done.” I stepped closer, noticing a tremble in his hands. Wasn’t this the moment I had been waiting for? Dreaming of? For years? “Does it still eat you up, detective Jowd? Do you still dream about it? I know you have nightmares about it. I’ve seen you dream.”

I kept up a steady pace, daring him to fire a shot. I was close now, a few meters away. As far as he knew, I was unarmed, but, of course, I wasn’t. The world was my weapon. He could be my weapon. So many ways to get revenge… what would I do? “How nice it must be, to wake up from your dream and see your wife and daughter, to go to your job, to live through another day, to drink a cup of coffee, and come home to do it all again… Well, Detective, this isn’t a nightmare that you can wake up from.” I laughed, bitter and low.  “Go on, try it.” I could see his finger curl around the trigger… more reluctantly than he had, 8 years ago. He’d grown, matured, wizened up, and learned how to be less trigger happy. But I’d stopped. My time had stopped that day, and it was his fault! His!

I braced for the shot that would come. I braced for the impact of the bullet, the severing of nerves, the tearing of muscle, the brief moment of limpness that would come before the meteor lodged inside me reset my body and I could manipulate it again. It would be death, but it would mean nothing more than a pause. I braced…

“Daddy, no!” Kamila came back into my myopic vision, grabbing her father and holding him, as if she could hold back the flood of terror and anger. “Please, no…” she repeated.

I had not braced for that.

I could see so much – her tears, her confusion, her desperation… she didn’t understand what was going on between us, but she understood enough.

“Kamila! Stay out of this!” her father said with stiff emotion. I stopped and watched them, no longer certain, no longer ablaze. Hate now felt heavy, like a raincloud about to set loose a storm of rain.

“No!” she said, “He’s my friend, Daddy! Don’t hurt him.” My resolve faltered. I was suddenly aware of eyes – Jowd’s eyes, her eyes, Sissel’s eyes, Alma’s eyes, onlooker’s eyes. It was like my world had suddenly expanded, no longer just me and Jowd. Or just me and my vengeance. It was a world full of people.

When you join the world of the living, even a ghost can be seen.

Jowd never took his eyes off me, and I could see the terrified question in them, one that he would not voice or ask me. It was a question for the universe – for fickle fate. I asked the question myself – would this go like the last time?

Kamila would make a perfect hostage. It would be a small matter to manipulate her over to me, to grab her and hold her and force Jowd to do anything I wanted of his own will. I would have the power, then. I would have my revenge, without even harming a hair on her head.

Of course, my revenge would only be properly symmetrical if I killed her. What was the point of keeping her alive? If anything, she did not deserve to suffer, and she served no purpose to me if she wasn’t my friend. And how could she be, seeing this truth right in front of her?

But the thought fell flat. I could not hurt her. I could not hold her hostage. I looked upon her, her pleading face, her desperate attempts to keep her father from ‘killing’ me. Only one option remained for me, an option neither forward or back. Why had I bothered to fool myself into believing that any other direction remained? I had run out of time, and not even revenge could save me now.

No. This isn’t happening again. I turned away, grateful for my sunglasses as I faced into the sun. I couldn’t cry anymore, of course, but it would hide the stormy expression of pain. I didn’t want them to see that. “Don’t follow me, Detective Jowd,” I said.

And then I bolted from what could have been my future. I ran as fast as my shell could take me, heart breaking under the oppression of this sunny day as I sought to run – to hide – to bury myself.

Like the dead man that I was.

Chapter Text

They have words for people like me, here in this place. Zombi. Jiangshi. Vampire. A member of the unrestful dead. Not precisely, of course – I have no need to feed on the living. In fact, I have no need for anything anymore. But no other word works for a dead man like me.

I barely know what I am, lairing in this dirty, thin-walled closet-sized deathtrap. The day before, I sat inside all day and wrote my name on a napkin, over and over where no one could judge me. Yomiel. Yomiel. Yomiel… I didn’t want to forget who I was.

My home was so tiny, so out of the way, so ignored, that it might as well be a coffin. That was intentional: I was burying myself in the only way I could. Without my cat, without my friend, without the fires of revenge, I had nothing. No hope, but no despair either. I was nothing, now. Nothing but a lonely ghost.

Life went on without me. In the upper levels of the slum, cloaked by drying laundry, a woman sung as she cooked exotic foods that blended sweet fruits with heady spice. In another house, a man cheered at the TV, the sports announcer continuing on intently in a language that I didn’t know. On the street people called out in conflicting tones as they sold their wares. The bustle of the slum market was the heartbeat of life itself, and it gave me some comfort to be ‘buried’ near this place where I could witness the pulse of a neighborhood. I hadn’t decided what screams and gunshots were in this model of life, yet, but in the end, it didn’t matter.

Nothing I did would ever matter. I was just a hollow existence, a mistake in the universe. A zombie – an aberration, that just kept moving mechanically and without purpose. There was no other option for me than to exist here, as I was. If there had been a way to escape this wretched hell of emptiness, then I would have taken it. But now, if one appeared in front of me, I wasn’t sure if I would even bother to leave. Maybe I deserved this.

I was too dead to live, and too restless to be at peace. So, I had gone out on an errand for a kind, weathered old lady that lived above my hole in the wall. I returned to find the shouts of the market were silent, the streets rapidly clearing. It didn’t take me long to see why. I stared at the nightmare in white, musing that he looked so extraordinarily out of place here that it was almost ludicrous, if I cared.

He saw me too, soon enough. I waited and was rewarded with a complex expression that gave me some small pleasure. “Dios mio…” he murmured. I waited. I gave him a little of the silence of the grave that he had given me. “Not very…” he did a flourish, maybe an attempt to mask his discomfort, maybe a way to break the silence, “liiively around here, is it, Yomiel?” I wondered whether he realized that he’d made a pun.

“Where many of these people come from,” I said, my voice a flat monotone, “a cop is someone to flee from.” I felt only apathy for the man who had left me a gun all those years ago. His actions had started the spiral that had killed me, and none of it mattered anymore.

“Ooo, understandable, understaaandable.” He said, and I wondered if he understood at all. “And what about you, Yomiel?” he flounced over, all arrogance and flowing white coat. “Are you going to flee from justice?”

I stared at him, numbly. “And what justice would that be, Detective Cabanela?”

“Inspector, darling. Inspeeector Cabanela.” He corrected me, smirking. As if I should have known. And, I should have. I had known at one point how the man in white had catapulted himself up the ranks, promoted beyond his dear friend and partner. I knew how he had done it. I just didn’t care anymore.

“What justice, detective?” I felt a tiny twinge of pleasure at the annoyance that flashed across his face, “I have nothing to answer for.”

“That depends,” he said.

“On what, detective?” I asked. The products of my errand still lay snugly in my arms, but I could feel it in the air, a sort of electric tension that threatened to grow into a storm.

“On whether you remember a certain incident or not.” He replied. The tension grew thicker still, and I barked out a laugh. If he meant what I thought he meant, then he was a fool.

“Oh, I see.” I sneered, my old hatred fluttering to life within me like the dying embers of a campfire. “Did you really come here to erase that little sin of yours? After all of these years, detective, I’m surprised that you want to use blood to wash out the mud stains from your pretty white coat.”

“I…” I watched his faltering face with growing amusement. Whether he intended to kill me or not, I had touched a nerve.

“If that’s what you’re here to do, get it over with.” I said, “If you want assurance, then that’s what you’ll have to do.”

I thought I saw him reach for his gun. It would be under his coat in a body holster, to not ruin his style and image. It would be just like him. I braced for the shot, not really wanting to drop all of my groceries even if he shot me in the head. It would be a pain, to have gone through all this trouble to get supplies for that nice old lady, only to have them crushed.

“Do it.” I said, coldly.

“He was right, you know.” Cabanela said. He pulled out an item… not a gun, but a portable phone. “Your body hasn’t chaaanged at all, not a hair out of place from the man I sat across from, once upon a time…” he tapped the bulky number keys. “But you’ve changed, haven’t you.”

“Does it matter?” I asked, “If you aren’t going to murder me, then I’m going to leave.” I went inside. Cabanela followed, looking out of place in the grungy stairwell of the building.

“You reeeally thought I’d do something like that?” he said, gesturing flamboyantly, “Oh, I’m hurt, Yomiel. Very hurt.”

I shrugged. I didn’t know what his motives were. I didn’t know why he would bother coming here, presumably to find me. Why look and do nothing? Why did he care? I neither knew nor cared. Just as I didn’t care that he knew where I ‘lived.’ I entered my apartment, wondering if it made him uneasy, how much I didn’t react to the egotistical bastard.

“No no no! Why would I kill someone who walked themselves out of a morgue, hmm?” I glanced back to see his eyes boring into me, trying to see through me. “Hypothetically, if I put a few bullets in you, who’s to say that you won’t come back? Plus, I’d have to off my dear friend too. Pointless, pointless, pointless.”

I turned away, another shrug. I’d seen people be beaten and killed for less. I’d done it, too.

“No, I want to hear all about how you committed this criiime – the one against life and death, baby!” I glanced back to see him pointing at me, theatrical as ever. “How can a maaan get pierced in the heart by a meteor and still be up and breathing years later? How can eeeveryone else grow taller and get themselves grey hairs while this one same man looks exactly like he did that very day? How can a man steal himself from the morgue? I want to know. I want to know, I want to know, I want to know, baby!”

“I did nothing wrong.” I said, too apathetic to even snap. “And… I don’t know what to tell you. If you’re looking for immortality, find it elsewhere.”

“Oh yeah. I’m looking for so muuuch more, baby. You don’t understaaand. Was it the rock in the park, baby? Was it that?”

“Maybe.” I lied. I was aware of the meteor chunk glowing idly in my chest, holding me in that moment of time forever. “Maybe not. What do you care?”

“Do you have aaany idea what something like that is capable of? Something that can bring back the dead? Hold back time?” He grinned. “Come on, baby. Advance the science of medicine a little. Work some miracles!”

I was tempted to show him a miracle or two. I was tempted to murder him myself… it wouldn’t be hard to hide a body here, in this place where no one truly cared. With my powers, it would be almost too easy. Instead, I forced a sigh. “Let the dead rest in peace, inspector.” I said, using his true title this time, “Don’t dig where you shouldn’t… you may end up with more than you bargained for.”

“Oh, I’d say I was quite prepaaared to end up with a lot of unintended consequences.” Cabanela said. I hated the grin on his face. I hated his stupid white coat. I hated the perceived innocence in his eyes. He thought he was doing nothing wrong here, interrogating me as he was. I hated him, and for a moment, I thought about how to kill him right there. I knew I could move faster than him. And if I couldn’t move faster, a flicker of will would be all that I would need to control him and have him take his own life.

But, just as quickly, the fire of hate became tinged with melancholy, and died away. “No. You really aren’t.” I said, “Please leave. I’ll say nothing about what you did to me, and you’ll never see me again.” I paused for a moment, “And if you think you could arrest me, torture me, kidnap me… any of those things… then know this. You cannot hurt me. You cannot cage me. You cannot do anything more to me than what was already done. You won’t be able to squeeze that information out of me, no matter what you try.” I let myself slump, not even bothering to keep up the façade of liveliness. “No law or man can touch the dead. Don’t bother.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.” He said, “Then let me leave a few little offerings for a dead man, hmm?” The light sound of moving paper hit the table behind me. “And maybe we can talk about this subject a little more some other time. For now, ta-ta, baby. You’ll know how to reach me.”

I knew when Cabanela left the room without even needing to look even before the crappy door cracked against its frame. His presence was so palpable that his absence made the room feel empty. Silent. Sepulchral. Like a proper grave.

Good.

I just wanted to rest.

I turned to the table and saw, lying on it, four envelopes. I picked them up, filled with a strange sense of dread. “To Yomiel,” each one read. No stamp, no address, made for hand delivery. I opened one of them, lavender with a handmade card inside. A smiling trio of stick figures met my gaze: a man in red, a girl in purple, and a cat.

“Dear Mr. Yomiel,

I don’t think you’re a bad man. Sissel is a good cat, so you must be, too. Daddy says you made a mistake once, and he did too. Whenever someone makes a mess, they should clean it up – so you should come back, so you and daddy can fix whatever it is that was wrong. I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person, Yomiel. So come back, and we can play with Sissel, and catch bugs, and build robots. Please.

Your friend,

Kamila”

I let the letter flutter to the floor, the pictures staring up at me with their blank smiles. Robotically, I read the next letter.

“Dear Mr. Yomiel,

My husband explained everything to me. At first, I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t more upset about letting a kidnapper near our child, but then he explained further. Your situation was regrettable. Is regrettable. I researched your case. I know about your fiancé. I’m so sorry… I know what it is like to lose a loved one in that way. In light of your survival, and her note, I can only imagine your suffering.

You will be glad to know that your cat is well taken care of. Kamila insisted that we adopt him, and Sissel is now an inseparable part of our family. I believe he misses you, however – he is always slightly disappointed when I come in through the door, though it is hard to know what a cat thinks.

From our conversations in the park, I can believe that you are someone worthy of being missed by an animal. And by my daughter. She’s tried to call you a few times. She won’t stop asking after you. I’m sure that, given time, she would get over losing you as her friend. Maybe she will make other friends, and not play alone so much anymore. But little is certain for the mother of a gifted child. Or for the wife of a detective.

You do not need to know all of the reasons why you should come back. But I believe that if you can return, you should do so. If only briefly. The air must be cleared, this whole sordid matter must be resolved, and you need to say goodbye to Kamila properly. You owe her that much.

Please consider it.

Sincerely,

Alma Jowd”

I felt like trembling inside, but, as the third envelope beckoned, I reached out with eerie stillness. It was tangled, informal, brusque – exactly what I would expect from a detective.

“I never thought I would have the chance to say sorry to you. When I asked about where your grave was, and heard you had none, it hurt. Seeing you walking, talking, I didn’t know what to do. But now I do.

I asked Cabanela to find you, wherever you’d gone to, and I assume that he has and you are reading this. I’m sorry for what happened all those years ago. I’m sorry for everything. Please, I beg of you, give me a chance to say this in person.

Help me put to rest the nightmares from that day in the park.”

I sneered at the letter. Help him put his nightmares to rest? Leaving him be would be the best revenge. Burying myself here, away from everyone would hurt him… and help Kamila, and Sissel, and all the others whose lives had gone on without me. That was what I owed them. That would wipe the slate clean, and I could exist, lifeless, deathless, without any more cares or regrets.

I moved to throw the letter aside, but the picture on the grimy floor caught my eye. I picked it up between my bloodless fingers. The saccharine faces stared back at me, the poorly drawn sunglasses on my poorly drawn face giving my facsimile a dorky look. A happy look. I saw a detail that I didn’t see before – Kamila’s hand in mine. And another – a heart above Sissel’s head. I stared at the picture for a long time.

And then I opened the fourth envelope. A business card fell out, obnoxiously ornate.

“Inspector Cabanela” It read, listing out an address, a phone number, a pace of business. On the back, in black marker, another number was written, and a message as well:

“Call me if you want a chance.”

I sat there, I wasn’t sure how long, and then mechanically brought the lady her groceries. Back in my apartment, I picked up the business card, flipping it between my fingers for a moment, or maybe a few hours, before I slipped the card and the picture into my pocket, grabbed a few spare coins, and left. I looked at my feet as I started down the stairs, loping through the reinvigorated market as I made a beeline to a very specific place.

To the only pay phone in the neighborhood.

Chapter Text

It had been a week and some change since I’d called Cabanela. Or, more accurately, since I had attempted to call the man. I’d picked up the phone, dialed it, and hung up at the flippant helloooo like the coward that I was. I’d ended up losing the quarters, but what did I need them for? Rent? I’d wanted to take the easy way out, to bury myself in sorrow and vanish like a ghost. It was so tempting.

His visit had gotten me thinking, though, a dangerous prospect at the best of times. One of my biggest flaws, even now – Even though my brain was as dead as the rest of me, was that once I started thinking, I couldn’t stop. I found myself standing at the payphone again and again, not dialing. I would launch myself across the phone lines, crossing miles in weightless moments to find myself jolted from the stark blue of the ghost world into a new place.

One day, I found myself following a half-remembered number. Not Jowd’s, not Cabanela’s, but it was a familiar home all the same. Like Jowd’s family, they were picturesque: a mom, a dad, two kids, and so very happy. I watched them go about their lives for a few minutes, their lovely normal lives, and I remembered another family who had lived at this address.

I remembered drunken screaming, a crying woman, and an impassive, nerdy child with sensitive eyes. That child had a computer, his one salvation, and one day that computer had been broken in a fit. That day had been all shouting, fury, and pain. That child packed a bag with the essentials and ran away from home that very night.

I’d thought that I’d stopped running when I’d met Sissel. I’d thought that I’d never need to run from anything again. But, ever since that day in the park, all that I’d done was run away from my problems and my grief.

I looked at the new child’s computer, a nicer one than mine and completely intact. Would they become a programmer too? Who knew? I extracted myself from their lives and returned to my body on the other end of the payphone.

Maybe I should run towards my problems for a change. Maybe then the world would stop turning for a moment, and I could feel… what? Safe? Secure? I didn’t know. Even as I put the quarters in the payphone and dialed the number, I didn’t know. I waited as it rang, ignoring the sounds of the city around me until I heard the telltale click, the distinctive Helloo? on the other end of the line.

“Inspector,” I said, speaking clearly and quietly, “I’d like that chance.”

Chapter Text

Kamila’s face appeared at the window, kind of like the moon peeking out from behind the clouds on a dark night. I ducked back into the shadows of the neighboring house until she left the window. My pulse would have pounded if it could.

I had another chance – another one – and I was about to blow it. Right up to the walkway, I’d been certain that this was what I wanted to do. But then, looking at the warm lights of this happy family I had hated so much, I thought that it seemed so alive. There was a gulf the size of a heartbeat between me and them, no matter how much they didn’t seem to want to accept it. We were part of different worlds, and once upon a time – seemingly so long ago now – I had had truly dire plans for them. Their blood could have been on my hands so easily, and I would have liked it.

It was funny. You’d think that I’d have left the ‘nerves’ behind that day in the park. But here they were, full swing, and I was tempted to flee right then and there. Toss my metaphorical invitation, my integrity, and myself right in the trash where they all belonged. I turned away and took a single step, like a coward. An undead coward… I thought, stopping once again, Come on, Yomiel, you literally have nothing to fear and nothing to lose.

“Gods, just do it,” I said, turning back around and marching my body up to the door before I could change my mind. I fidgeted with my tie, my clothes, and tried to avoid fidgeting with the mortuary makeup I’d put on as I did so. I climbed the steps - Did I look lively enough? I didn’t know, nor did I know what I would do once I opened the door. My hand hovered over the doorbell of the house I knew far too well – the place where my nemesis lived, my mortal enemies once. Was this all right?

I pushed the doorbell and waited, and then pushed it again. That’s that, I said, preparing to turn and leave, I tried…

When the door opened, revealing the tentatively smiling, bearded face of Detective Jowd. We stared at each other for a few moments. “So… Do I… need to invite you over the threshold or something?”

“Nope,” I said, smirking very naturally as a powerful urge to mess with him grew within my soul. It kept me there. “I don’t need permission… or a body.” I decided to leave it on a vaguely threatening note.

“Well uh…” I saw his eyes widen, but he tried to hide it. “Thanks for… not doing that.” He moved aside to let me in, and I crossed the boundary between dark and light… as easy as that, I thought.

“Here.” I handed him a basket containing a bottle of wine and a few flowers. “’Cause I’m an invited guest for once.”

“Oh, thank you.” The expression on his face as he continued to try not to show his fear was delightful. I felt better than I had in weeks, the mischief and spite warming me up. I took another step in… Right into a trap!

Suddenly, a black blur came rushing towards me. It was pure reaction that allowed me to catch it as it leapt into my arms. Sissel immediately became comfortable as only a cat could purring as if he’d swallowed a cicada. Before I could react to him, another blur crashed into my legs and I felt another body hold me tight. I looked down to see Kamila hugging my legs. “Yomiel! You came!” she said, looking up at me with stars in her eyes, and I felt all of my fear, rage, spite, and despair melt in their brilliance.

Holding a cat, being held by a child, I looked to her father as if he would know what to do. Now it was his time to smirk, albeit warily. “Kamila, remember what I told you? Yomiel is going through a rough time and is going to need a little bit of space, okay?”

“Okay!” she said, letting me go and doing a little hop back. It was adorable, fairy like, innocent – but I could tell that she knew much more than she let on, and maybe she’d intended to break the ice with that hug. Clever girl.

“How much does she know?” I asked Jowd quietly.

“Not much…” he said. Understandable, I had no idea how the hell I’d explain this… situation… to a child.

“I know that you’re a zombie!” she piped up cheerfully, and I had the pleasure yet again of seeing Jowd’s face drain of color.

“Uh…” I took a moment to recover, purring cat and all, “Well, um, not really. I’m a ghost. I guess some would call me a poltergeist.” A strange hysterical whimsy took me and I slipped into the ghost world and made the door close on its own. “Sorry,” I said, with a broader grin, feeling oddly enervated, “it was getting drafty.”

Kamila clapped her hands in delight. “That was amazing!” She began to corral me, cat and all, into the too-familiar living room, her father following along soon after. Her mother waited there, standing and stern as ever, and she joined her. They looked at the two of us expectantly, and I could tell they were mother and daughter in that moment: Kamila and Alma had the same eye for foolishness. They blocked the door to the dining room, smiling but firm.

“Well?” said Alma, “we can’t let this hang over us for all of dinner, so let’s get this over with.”

I didn’t want to say anything. It shouldn’t be me making the first move – but, I looked over at Jowd, and realized that I could make him squirm yet again. The two ladies cornered us further and made us sit down on a couch next to each other. Sissel slinked his way onto my lap, and that was that – I wouldn’t be getting up for a while.

“So.” I said, glad that I didn’t have breath to catch and give away my nervousness, “Are you going to apologize for taking my life away?”

He shuddered. “I… would have shot. Yes. It might not have been my bullet that took your life, Yomiel,” he took a deep breath, “But I am responsible, and I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”

“You killed me,” I said frankly. It felt strange, actually saying it so casually, without trying to hurt him. “But there’s something else you need to apologize for, because maybe you need to understand what dying meant for me. I’ve done…” I glanced at Kamila, still petting the cat, “terrible things.”

Alma got my hint and began to try to shuffle her away, but Kamila – with all of the stubbornness of her tender years – stood firm. “No. I want to hear this.” She gave me a look that would have quelled my heart if I’d had one. “Yomiel is my friend,” she crossed her arms, “and I can’t be afraid of what he’s done!”

I knew she would probably change her mind, but I accepted that was her decision. A very grown-up decision from a child, which was funny. I looked back at Jowd, observing him intently as I listed all of the sins I could remember, all of the dirty deeds I’d done, the people I’d hurt. His face creased with horror, his eyes glazing over as he realized just how terrible his mistake was. I didn’t dare look at Alma and Kamila. I didn’t want to see their faces. Once I started, it was hard to stop, and it felt good to tell someone. To confess. Finally, I smirked. “You can’t arrest a dead man, detective,” I said, “the best you can do is trap this body, and even then, let’s be honest, my current existence is punishment enough.” I could have stopped there, but instead… I froze time, looking at Kamila and Alma in the ghost world. Maybe I wanted to hurt myself, I wasn’t sure. Their cores glittered, alive and beautiful, and their faces… Alma was horrified. Understandable. Kamila, though… she seemed stunned, hurt maybe… but  kind. Sympathetic. Maybe I should put an end to that.

“There’s one more,” I said darkly, returning to the world of the living, “one that I didn’t do.” I told him my plan to hurt Jowd, to wreck the life he didn’t let me live. How I’d wanted him to suffer and fall into the same darkness I was in, up until he got the release of death that I never would get. I gave them every vivid detail, every bit of my plan – the Rube Goldberg machine, the reloaded gun, the way I was going to use Kamila against him… “In sum,” I said, “I wanted to hurt you.”

“… but then I called you,” said Kamila, her voice eerily cheerful. I didn’t want to believe it. I wasn’t sure why she was covering up her horror. There was no point to it – I burned with the need to hear her tell me off. Let me have it! Let me suffer! I deserved it.

“Yeah.” I said, waiting breathlessly. The room was silent and I wondered if I’d just sucked the life out of the room. The thought was bleakly amusing.

Jowd was the first to stir. “It sounds like… you hurt yourself too,” he said haltingly at last, with a regretful sigh. “All I’m going to ask you, Yomiel – is it over? Are you done hurting people?”

He touched my hand and that gave me pause. I didn’t jerk away – I was too startled to move my body in any sort of reaction. “I… think so.” I said, stunned.

“Good,” he said, smiling thinly.

“Good!” Kamila said, with all of the cheer of her precocious years, “Then that’s that. Mom?” she turned to Alma in one smooth movement, “can he stay here?”

“Um…” Alma hedged, clearly stunned by my revelation, and I couldn’t blame her.

“K… kamila, remember what I said?” Jowd said, unnerved but trying to keep a cheerful expression on his face. For her, I understood. “He needs space. I don’t think he’s really…”

“Yeah. Neither of us are ready for that,” I laughed, “Lets just…” maybe? Please? I didn’t know why I felt like begging for this chance. “See where the evening goes?” Honestly, I didn’t know what I felt at all. I felt like laughing and crying and couldn’t really do either here. Without that release, I just felt raw…

Like I’d been born anew.

Chapter Text

It was a normal school day morning in the Jowd household. Perhaps not normal by any other family’s standards – all of them rose early, before dawn, attuned to the detectives’ schedule. It was still hectic, because Alma needed to prepare for work (which required a lot of fortification, that was for sure,) and Kamila had many uses for the free time that she had no desire to waste.

“Okay, Pancake is on!” Jowd announced, as the fresh blueberry pancake batter filled the large pan. The family didn’t bother with little bitty pancakes – only inch thick, pan-sized monsters for them, cut into fourths. One slice for each. “Bacon or ham?”

“Ham!” Kamila called out, drawing in her drafting book. A new invention was taking form and she simply had to perfect it.

“Is the coffee ready?” Alma asked, bustling to and fro trying to collect the papers that somehow, every night, found themselves strewn throughout the house.

“It is now!” Jowd poured a cup for both him and his wife, and orange juice for the girl. “I’ll get started on the ham. Who’s feeding the…”

The cupboard door opened on its own and a can of wet food fell out of it, rolled to the bowls on the floor, and seemed to hop in. The can opened with an odd twist, and soon after, a sleek black cat with a red ribbon trotted out from wherever he was hiding to feast.

“Nevermind, he got it,” said Jowd. He poured a bit of water into the cat’s water bowl from a pitcher, lingered there for a moment, and then set it on the counter near the stove. “I’m going to crisp up the ham, now.”

The kitchen was soon filled with warm and welcoming smells. It was nice, these mornings – you could almost forget how easily it could be Jowd’s last. The SIU was not the most dangerous part of the force overall, but it could quickly become that in a heartbeat.

Alma, having collected her things, sat down at the table with the morning paper and her coffee. “He’s going with you today, right dear?”

“No, I think he’s going with you today.” Jowd replied, checking his digital timer every few cracklings of the ham.

“I’d rather he go with you today,” Alma said, “I just have a feeling…”

Jowd lingered for a moment, turned off the stove, and stood there for a few minutes more. “Guess he’ll have to use the bathroom early, then. Everyone done with washing up?”

“Mommy and I will use the downstairs bathroom for our teeth!” Kamila said, looking up and smiling.

“Good. You have… 2 minutes before this thing needs to be flipped.”

A few seconds later, the basement door opened and nimble footsteps made their way upstairs. The cat looked up from his meal, followed the sounds with his eyes, and then resumed. The family heard something be set on the floor, the door close, and the shower begin to run.

“30 seconds.” Jowd said. A cup rattled nearby and he moved it closer to the stove with an almost absentminded reach. He cut up some slices of oranges and set them next to the ham on three different empty plates.

Right as the timer began to sound, the pancake flipped on its own, a perfect 180 in mid-air that fell into a perfectly held pan. It slid back onto the fire with a smooth movement. “Thanks,” Jowd adjusted the pan on the stove and reset the timer, “You always do it perfectly.”

The phone rang, loud and clear. Alma picked up the phone. “Hello?” her brow creased, “All right.” She put a hand over the receiver. “So, John, about that feeling.” Jowd dried his hands and took the phone.

“Good morning, Captain…” he made his way into the other room.

“Mommy,” Kamila looked up from her drafting, “can I take Sissel into school today?”

Alma turned a page in the newspaper. “I’m not the one that you need to ask.”

“Oh! Right.” Kamila sat up straight, “Yomi, can I take Sissel into school today?”

She waited a few seconds before, from upstairs, came a muffled call of “Yes.”

Kamila giggled and Alma, despite her worries, couldn’t help but smile. The school didn’t necessarily allow cats, but Sissel kept Kamila company, kept the bullies out of her way, and had already charmed the socks off of every teacher in the school. “3 minutes on this side,” she commented. A few more seconds and they heard the water stop and feet move a lot faster than usual down the stairs and back to the basement. “I guess he has to be quick,” Alma murmured. For all she knew, the man knew what was happening on the other end of the line before even Jowd did.

The timer went off and Jowd hung up the phone. He returned to the kitchen. “Yeah, it’s a case,” he said, stroking his beard with a sigh. He took a long drink of his coffee, and then looked at the pancake for a moment. “The timer’s done,” he said. He waited a little bit longer, and then – nose wrinkling with annoyance – reached out and turned off the stove himself.

Alma gave him a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

Alma just shook her head.

“I think she means that you’re lazy, daddy.”

“I am not lazy!” Jowd protested, “I’m just…”

“You’re too used to it…” said Alma with a smirk, “Well, I think he’s downstairs getting ready to go with you, so you’ll just have to make do.” Jowd huffed, but his smile belied his good humor. He used the completely clean spatula to portion out the mega pancake, one fourth for each person right next to the ham and oranges, and a spare fourth. A pat of butter on top, a little maple syrup, and the three living members of the household had their breakfast.

Kamila ate as if she hadn’t eaten in years, and Jowd couldn’t help but grin. “Slow down. You’re just like Lynne…” he said, shaking his head.

Kamila’s reply was muffled by pancake.

“We should invite her over,” Alma said, looking over the financial section.

“Not while there’s a case on,” Jowd said. He was slower than Kamila, but not by much. At least he chewed. “And not until I’ve read her in on… you know.”

“He’s literally downstairs, you don’t need to be coy about it,” Alma said, drinking her coffee.

“Yeah,” said the man in question, poking his head in, “I’m not a koi, after all.” He smirked bemusedly as he buttoned up one of his suits, his tie hanging loose from his neck. He almost looked alive with the carefully applied makeup, but the eyes were a ‘dead’ giveaway. No matter what he did, he couldn’t make them any less uncanny. “Even though I did go with red today.”

Kamila swallowed, somehow. “You always go with red!”

“Not true!” Yomiel said, hovering over her briefly as he began to tie his tie, strands of long, damp blonde hair hanging down around his face messily, “Just the other day, I went with blue… What’s this?”

Kamila folded up the drafting paper, a playful gleam in her eye. “It’s a surprise!”

“Oh, is it?” The paper began to unfold on its own, but Kamila stopped it with a hand and a pout.

“Not yet!” she declared, giving him a defiant look.

“All right, all right,” Yomiel said with a wink. He finished tying the tie expertly and maybe with a little supernatural assistance and bent down to pet Sissel, who leaned into the pets. “Hey there, old friend,” he said softly, picking up the cat and cuddling him for a few precious moments, “look at this, right? One heck of a life.” For a moment, there was an aura of melancholy in the room, but only for a moment. Yomiel flipped the cat over, holding him in front of him. “Now, you take care of Kamila at school, all right? Anyone messes with her… well,” he grinned sharply, “you know what to do.”

“Mrrow!” Sissel protested, and Yomiel laughed and put him down, where the cat immediately began washing himself thoroughly.

“Oh, hey, Alma,” he said, turning to the woman, “how do I look with my hair down? I mean, it’s still wet, but…”

“You have very nice hair, Yomiel.” She said, “I don’t know why you like to use so much hair gel.”

“I like it!” he said, false affronted. They had a similar conversation every few weeks. “It’s me. But today, I’m going natural.”

“Don’t have time to do much else,” Jowd said, wiping his mouth. “I’ll be ready to go in a sec, gotta get my things.”

“No problem,” Yomiel said smoothly, with just a hint of malice, “I’m always ready.”

“So, what’s the case, Yomi?” Kamila asked, earning her a sharp look from her mother.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, giving her head a pat, eliciting an embarrassed squeak, “we’ll tell you if we can.”

Alma closed the newspaper and finished off her breakfast with almost reluctant bites – work was going to be rough today, for sure. As she did so, Jowd hustled, disorganized, through the hallway to the door, practically juggling his badge, gun, trademark coat, and hat.

“That’s my cue,” Yomiel said, putting on his sunglasses with a flourish and giving mother and daughter a ‘super cool’ finger gun, “See you later!”

As the detective and the undead man made their way out of the door, one awkwardly hustling, the other moving far too smoothly, and as the door locked behind them… well, Alma still worried, but she supposed she shouldn’t. Not every detective had a guardian angel by their side. Or devil.

“I’d better get ready too,” she said to Kamila, standing up from the kitchen table. Kamila’s smile warmed her heart, and she couldn’t help but revel in how normal life had become for their haunted household. So normal, even, that the fact that her next case involved a spirit medium didn’t even phase her.

***

Inspector Cabanela had a bad (baaad) feeling about this interview from the start, but what could a man do, baby, but keep it going? “So, where were you at about, oh, 1pm on a certaaain Thursday. A certain warm April day?”

“Here, alone,” the CEO said, gesturing with glittering fingers to his well-appointed office. They matched each other, smooth for smooth. “More coffee, Inspector?”

“Thanks, baby, but no thanks. I have pleeeenty of energy at the moment,” he said, leaning forward, “See, I don’t think you were.”

“Oh? And why don’t you think that?”

“Oh, I have my sources, baby. I never kiss and tell.”

The CEO smirked, and Cabanela’s danger sense went off like a siren… but he wasn’t stopping now. No – he couldn’t stop. In fact, as he watched a picture shift slightly behind the man, as if from nothing at all, he was only motivated to keep getting closer.

“Now, how I figure it,” he drawled, “you went to the sceeeene at around when most folks would have lunch. You did the deed, baby, and then you were off like a goose going north.”

“Oh, and then where was I?”

“Oh, you vanish baby. Completely off-radar. You know who doesn’t do that, baby?” Cabenela stroked the ring he’d received as a present from Jowd when he made inspector. It was as much a ‘congrats’ as a ‘you bastard’ and Cabenela would treasure it forever. “The innocent. The common criminal.”

“Is that so? Well, let me tell you how I figure it, Inspector.” The CEO stood and made himself another coffee, using the full latte machine at the back. “I figure, you don’t know what you’re sticking your nose into.” He gave the latte a good milk foam. “Like you said, this is a pretty uncommon crime, more than a homicide.” He turned and flicked over a piece of candy from a bowl nearby. Cabenela caught it with ease. “You’re going rogue, Inspector, chasing shadows. Shadows chase back, you know. Stick to your beat, Inspector. People killing people, cats in trees, noise complaints…”

“But what if I want in, baby?”

“Sorry?” the man turned, surprised, and didn’t notice that the display on his machine blinked slightly.

“What if I want in on those little shadows? Like you said, I’m going rogue, I’m stuck on my homicide beat, sometimes vice if things are spicy, but I’m a bloodhound, you see, and I want more than this life, you dig?” Cabenela winked.

“Hmm.” The CEO nodded thoughtfully, “you know, from the moment you started sniffing around me, I had some of my people sniff around you. You’re an interesting man, Inspector. You like to dance with the devil a bit.”

“Devils’ got the best moves around, baby,” Cabenela said. He hoped that the flickering display didn’t mean that the recording stopped – but no, this tech was too good for that. “They lead the way to greatness, too.”

“Hmm… That they do… They also leave some dirt behind. I bet you don’t want some of your… extracurriculars to get out”

“Alright, baby, you have dirt on me, I have dirt on you, let’s do some business.” He leaned in. “Let’s get straight what that business is though.”

The CEO leaned in, and then slowly grinned. “I know your game, Inspector, and that’s not how this works. I’m not spilling my secrets. You could have a wire on, for all I know.”

“Ahaha,” Cabenela leaned back and winked, “You got me, big boy. But don’t you worry about that.” He nodded once, very slightly, “you have other things to worry about.”

Suddenly, the painting crashed to the ground. The CEO jumped, jumping again as his latte spilled all over his desk – still steaming. “Gah!” he said, smooth demeanor shaken.

“You see, I’m not homicide, baby, I’m Special Investigations, and in my unit, we have some… unorthodox ways of getting evidence.” Cabenela brought out a flask and sipped it calmly as the latte machine began to steam of its own will.

“What the hell is this?!” the CEO cursed, standing up and moving as far away as he could – only to be stopped by his own wheeling chair as it swiftly flanked him and knocked him back in his seat.

“Anyone’s guess, baby, but it’s probably all the ghosts you’ve made.” Cabenela rearranged his long legs gracefully as the lights in the room began to flash, “Maybe if you wrote out a confession, you could put them to rest, hmm?”

“G… ghosts, that’s absurd, this has to be some kind of magic trick, I…” the chair, of its own accord, wheeled him back to the desk. “I…” he stared, dumbfounded, as he reached into his desk, brought out a lined legal pad and a pen. “What’s happening?” he asked, voice high with panic as his own hands wrote, over and over again; confess, confess, confess.

“What did I tell you? Restless spirits.” Cabenela said with a wink.

Repent, repent, repent.

“What…?”

Give them all up or give up all hope of peace.

Cabenela nodded appreciatively. “Nice. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, a classic,” he said, as the latte machine’s foamer began to scream. As if it was completely normal.

“All right, all right, fine, I’ll do it! I’ll make a written confession,” said the CEO in a panic, “Just, make it stop…”

“Oh baby, that’s up to them.” Cabenela said, as the man began to feverishly write. The movement in the room did not stop – flickering lights, computer screens taking themselves to creepy websites, misbehaving machinery, false phone calls. And through the storm, Cabenela sat, calm and patient. “Make sure you get eeeeeverything down, baby, otherwise you might not calm them all.”

The man’s confession was six pages all told. Cabenela gave them a good read through as the chaos continued.

“Good, good.” Cabenela said. Suddenly, all of the strangeness stopped. A glass cup stopped spinning and fell on its side. The machine stopped shrieking. The computer returned to its desktop screen totally normal. All was quiet. “Thank you kindly.” He stood up to leave and made it to the door before the disheveled CEO summoned up enough courage.

“Hold on a moment. Just because you got your confession doesn’t mean that you’re leaving here with it,” he said, grasping for some sort of control.

“Oh? I think it does, baby,” Cabenela said, putting his hand on the door handle. Both of them heard an audible click as the lock disengaged on its own and Cabenela strode out of the office with his usual swagger.

He didn’t stop swaggering until he reached a nondescript white van, that he entered with a flourish and a little dance, as per usual. “Niiice job in there, baby.” He said to the technician sitting at the wall of computers and wires.

“Put on quite a show, didn’t I?” The man turned to look at him, a very unnatural movement. He was wearing basic street clothes and, despite how hot it was in the van, wasn’t breaking a sweat at all.

“I hope you got yourself some real evidence too, baby, because this,” Cabenela held up the confession, “is only going to get us so far.”

“Relax. I found the files in his computer, don’t worry about it. And I had the computer trace out some of his other contacts. I bet,” said Yomiel, grinning a wide, scary sort of grin, “I’ll have all of the digital evidence we need to take down the whole operation by the time we get back to the station.”

“Is that so, baby?” Cabenela loved confidence, but even for this man (or whatever the hell he was,) that sounded like a tall order.

“Well, as long as we take the long way back and do a loop around the park,” Yomiel amended.

“Can do, baby. Take your time,” Cabenela sauntered over to the much cooler driver area. “Heey, so, what’s for dinner?”

“What do you think,” Yomiel said, the screens reflecting in his uncannily bright eyes. The entire van felt alive in an eerie way, from the engine to the screens, but Cabenela was sort of used to it by now. “It’s chicken.”

“Is my baby coming?”

“Lynne? Yeah, she’s been invited.”

“So that’s, what, three whole chickens from that Chicken kitchen?”

“I could call, make it four.”

“Different flavors, baby?”

“No problem.”

Cabenela started the engine and started driving, and for a few moments there was a silence made up of the noises of the engine, the tapping of keys, and the whirring of electronics. “Sooo,” Cabenela began, as they began their first loop around Temsik Park, where everything had changed. “Are you going to be there, baby?”

“No,” said the man. Cabenela wasn’t sure what emotion he detected in that voice. Numbness, maybe. “I’m exiled for the night. You know why.”

“And you’re all right with that?”

A pause. “Yeah. Jowd doesn’t think she’s ready to face me yet, so what can I do?” another pause, “Don’t worry about me inspector. I’m going out for a walk with the cat. Might play some arcade games, watch the people, heh,” a hollow chuckle, “live a little.”

“And you’re okay with that, baby?”

“Sure.”

Cabenela knew that was a baldfaced lie. He drove for a little longer in silence. “How about you and me go out for a night on the town sometime?”

“Hmm?”

“Show you the real city, the nightlife, baby, really live a little.”

Cabenela could hear the smirk. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough of the nightlife?”

“I mean the sceeene, baby. Where you can have some real fun. Nightclubs, old movie screenings, novelty shows, you name it! I’ll take you around, and you’ll be in saaaafe hands, don’t you worry.” And you’ll feel like part of the world again… Cabenela thought.

More silence. “Sure,” Yomiel said, “once we’re done with this, pick a night. I’ll be there.”

“Fabulous, baby. You won’t regret it,” the inspector said, relaxing into the drivers’ seat.

That, and maybe we can avoid a close caaall like before.

Chapter Text

It had been a hell of a long time since I promised Kamila that we’d go to the museum and see the GIRLS ONLY exhibit. We were lucky it was still up after all this time, but I guessed it was a good exhibit, so it was even more important for us to go.

I had an excuse, though: even after I’d somehow become the resident restless spirit of the Jowd household, things had just been hectic. We finally had time and space to go, and both parents were busy, of course, as they always were, so we were here together, her hand in mine as if I was her cool uncle or something. It made me feel warm and fuzzy where my heart should be – though I suppose it was my soul. That she didn’t mind the fact that my hands were cold and clammy was a bonus, and the bright smile she gave me nearly made me want to cry. I did cry. On the inside.

I bought the tickets and could barely restrain my excitement as she finally checked out the exhibit. Her excitement, however, couldn’t be contained.

“Looks like they have a good distribution of jobs here,” I said, noting that ‘programmer’ was there, as well as ‘doctor’ and ‘engineer’ and ‘astronaut.’ “Mostly STEM, though, but I guess that’s because they want to try to push that forward, huh.

Kamila nodded. “I don’t see ‘riveter’ here…” she said with a smirk. It took me a moment to get the joke, and I grinned.

“Me neither. Actually, there aren’t a lot of physical fields. Where’s the construction worker? Or the rigger?”

“Or the stage director?” Kamila piped up, “or the actor?”

“I guess they assumed girls would already want to be actors? Or models.”

“That’s pretty dumb of them.” Kamila said, disappointed.

“Sorry.” I said, giving her hand a small squeeze, “it’s still a good exhibit though, right?”

“Yep!” she hovered at the engineer exhibit, with all of its fine pictures of women building incredible machines at the cutting edge of science… things that could take us to the moon, or mars, or the depths of the ocean. Things that could make our lives easier. “They don’t have inventor, either,” she said, a little disappointed.

I laughed, quiet but with a little wildness to it that made one of the other chaperones side eye me hard. “They won’t see you coming, Kami.”

“You won’t either,” she said. She let go of my hand and dug through her bag to hand me a piece of folded up drafting paper. “Here,” the young girl said, beaming, “look.”

“What’s this?” I asked, unfolding it and taking a look even as we resumed walking through the exhibit (the expected encouragement, a few quotes here and there, even some models.)

“It’s my surprise!” Kamila said proudly.

“Is this a robot?”

“It’s a giant robot!”

“How is it going to be powered?” I asked, squinting at the schematics. It was drawn in drafting pencil, with accents and marks in crayon, which honestly made everything pretty clear – and while I could see some minor power generation for the arms and the legs and the small computers, I saw nothing that would propel an actual mecha…

“You’re going to!”

“Sorry?” I looked at her in shock. “I am?”

“Mmhmm! It’s going to be a giant robot,” her grin widened and she spread her arms excitedly, “controlled by you!”

“Huh.” I shook my head at the miniature mad scientist next to me and gave the schematic another look. A lot of moving parts but, with the help of computers and the servos, I could definitely do it. “A literal ghost in the machine, huh.”

“Exactly! No one would ever expect it.”

I paused time in the ghost world, letting the sheen of blue cushion me from the strange emotions rushing through my soul. I looked down at Kamila’s face, this sweet girl with an unbound genius, who cared about me so much that she wanted to make me an actual mecha.

It really hit me all at once. I had a family. They cared about me even though they weren’t blood, and even though I didn’t have a heartbeat, even though I had tried to hurt them once... And… I cared about them. I had to process the moment carefully, overcome as I was.

They’re all mortal and will die and leave me alone…

But is that so terrible? I’ll watch them live their lives and be there for them through all of it…

And who is to say I won’t get passed on to another family, right? A heirloom ghost?

The thought, even of them passing on and leaving me behind, wasn’t so bad. They’d still love me, just from the other side. They’d all be rooting for me, and for whoever inherited me, and it would be one hell of a crowd keeping Sissel company, just out of reach. And who knows – maybe one day someone would figure out how to get me there, and I could finally rest in peace. All because I took an accidental call one day from a precocious child…

Although maybe I couldn’t afford to rest in peace. This family needed protecting, both from outside forces and… I looked down at the drawing again and raised an eyebrow… themselves.

I left the ghost world and returned to that beautiful moment. “Are those… lasers?”

“Yep!”

I hesitated for a moment. “… Why?”

“Because I could!” was the cheerful response.

I could only shake my head and laugh. “Yeah, Kami,” I said, handing back the blueprints with a mischievous grin, “they won’t see us coming at all.”