Archive of Our Own

“Who be Elizabeth?”

The question made him open his eyes, the pink twilight sky above him, Moonah glowing ever brighter as the sun began to set. He blinked, surprised. She never asked about the names he whispered when he slept.

Mary’s fingers stilled as they glided through his hair, having dislodged most of the tangles, before they would inevitably reappear.

“You says her name a lot. More than some of t’others. Even Annie did take notice.” She explained her reasoning before he asked; “She reckons it were one of these spirit-wenches you claim to have been with.”

His face screwed up in revulsion; “Annie’s mind always go to gutter! She call me ‘carnal beast’ but she real pervert.”

“Wouldst we have her any other way though, Row?” She smiled, manoeuvring his head off her lap so she could lay down on the grass.

Now that made him chuckle. No, of course not, though this time she was way off the mark.

“Elizabeth just child. Ten and three when wolves ate her.” He pointed over to a spot only several yards away from the house, where fifteen hundred years ago a great spindly tree had stood not far from an ancient stone circle; “Happen right there…”

The hint of a cheeky twinkle that had shone in Mary’s eyes flickered away at that revelation, replaced with sympathy.

“Oh nos. Poor mite. Dunno if that worse than being burned alive-.”

“It was. I mean, was worse to watch, though yours still horrible…” he quickly added, not wanting to take away from her trauma; “You at least suffocate before flames make you crispy. You still get to keep skin.” He reached up a hand to touch her face, making her blush beneath the soot; “She spend next thousand years almost with not much left of leg. Bone kept falling out and stop her walking.”

“Deary me…Shame she didn’t meet Humphrey, sounds like they wouldst have much in commons.”

Rohr laughed at that, attempting to picture the posh lord trying to befriend Elizabeth with his awful jokes. She’d have given him a chance until her patience wore off, as it often did with rich folk, and she would have asked if he could play a game of bat-and-ball, using a combination of her detachable calf bone and his head.

It had been a while since he’d allowed himself to think of her, as much as she had visited his dreams of late. Rohr usually tried not to dwell on dreams after he woke. They were for the night-time, no point letting them steal time from his days, which were for following the livings to see what they were up to, chasing squirrels and insects, and spending time with the dead friends who were currently here. Night would always make a return, as would his time to dream and all the old memories that were welcome to enter. His attempts to remain in the past, with those he’d lost, to refuse to allow the dreams to end…that didn’t tend to go so well, he’d discovered. Many, many, many times.

Mary shifted next to him as they lay by the lake, watching the swans, which she seemed to enjoy after Rohr spent years convincing her they were not in league with this devil-guy she was so obsessed with. They’d slipped away from the house over an hour ago, while the others were deep in some argument about one of Thomas’ poems which Annie had many, many criticisms about. And Kitty, though claiming not to understand poetry, was doing her best to act as mediator before they tore each other’s throats out.

Had the three of them even noticed they were gone? Annie would be looking for Mary soon enough, when it was bed time. Sometimes, very rarely of late, but sometimes, Rohr (or "Robin" as some had started calling him thanks to Kitty) would get an invitation as her plus one.

Not that he’d ever say it out loud, out of fear of it sounding like he resented any of the others when he didn’t, but he had missed moments like this. Just him and Mary, like in those early years, after she’d stopped being afraid of him and believing he was a demon, but before Annie came into their afterlives, and she found her ‘soul wife’ as they jokingly referred to each other (though given everything Rohr thought he understood about what a ‘wife’ was, he thought it was more than a joke).

“A child, you says?” Mary asked, still curious it seemed; “She not be one of your many babies you does mention? Can’t be with name like that-.”

“No, no…She not mine. Well…Me look after her. Carry her on back when walking too hard, keep her safe from some…not nice ghosts…But really, she…” he sighed, feeling the crack in his heart that he’d believed was long since filled in by the new faces, begin to reopen; “She look after me.”

”You? Needing lookings after? Tosh and flaps.” That twinkle shone once more in her face and he smirked in return. What would she say if she ever saw how much of a wreck he’d once been?

*

“Rohr?”

Despite having been the one to tell her his name, he was still having difficulty responding to it. Wolves didn’t have use for names. The dead slave master who had driven him into the pack with his sadistic behaviour had tried to take his name from him, give him a new one. Or three.

Bestia. Canis. Turpis.

Rohr had refused to wear any of them, each rejection earning him a lash across the face. Bastard had been fortunate to die wearing armour and wielding a weapon, not that it had done much when he’d fled and returned with his new furry friends at his side. He’d never been much of a fan of vengeance, thinking it a mug’s game, having been raised to only pick up a spear when the rival tribe came too close. But, the single human emotion he’d allowed himself to feel as he and the wolves tormented the Roman prick, was that it sure was fun.

After they’d grown bored of that, after they left pathetic Markus to tremble in his hut for the remaining days of his afterlife, Rohr had buried his name deep in the corners of his mind, along with any desire to be ‘human’ after having suffered under one of the worse of what his descendants had become.

Hundreds of years passed by in a haze. Then she appeared. Two instincts had sprung into his head that were nothing like those that belonged to the beast he’d had to become.

Save the girl. Tell her name.

He’d managed to do both. Well, the first one was touch and go, she was still dead after all. But he’d rescued her from becoming an eternal chew toy. He carried her to shelter rather than leaving her to sleep in the rain. He…stayed. Because that’s what he does, why he’s here, he remembered. Someone has to always be here for the new faces.

After that…he doesn’t have much of a clue what comes next. Stupid wolf brain is useless, and he doesn’t know how to mould it back into a man’s.

“What troubles thee?” She asked, sitting up on the bed and looking over to him, those blue eye focused with concern; “Can’t thou sleep?”

He wishes he knew how to stop trembling, a part of his cracked psyche registering how silly he must look, grown man cowering in the corner of the room, in the presence of a thirteen-year-old girl. A small thirteen-year-old at that, though perhaps that was because his own people matured a lot faster, and she reminded him a lot of Kya the last time he saw her, and she’d been only eight when he died. Her voice made her sound older though, revealing a life of hard labour and little indulgence from her parents.

Not to mention how she’d stood between him and the pack of dead wolves, ready to defend him with nothing but her own shoe in hand. Kid had guts. Probably more than him.

She earned the right to sleep in that bed. And from the first night that she’d given him permission to share it with her, he felt…unworthy.

Which was why most mornings Elysabeth awoke to find him having moved onto the floor.

That was where canes belonged, after all. Markus’ voice in his ears made him shake, as if the man were looming over him now, whip in hand.

Elysabeth sighed when he failed to talk back. He wanted to, he really did, but most of his attempts to speak how he remembered was incomprehensible to her. Language had changed again, as it always did, but this time Rohr seemed to have been kept away too long from being there to listen to it evolve. Certain words and tones he recognised, same as they always had been since his own people’s monosyllable way of speaking, but now there were sentence structures that physically hurt his brain when he attempted to form them.

And then there was the issue of overcoming the fear conditioned in him. Fear of a man who no longer existed on this earth, physically or spiritually. Fear of punishments he was no longer around to deal out. Fear that he was right.

The girl got out of bed and began to limp her way over to him.

He tried to make himself smaller, not sure why he didn’t just fall back through the wall, scurry away into the night. No, he remembered why, but there were two figures wrestling over a piece of rump steak inside of him – the steak being his mind, which he was sure wasn’t as tasty. One wanted to flee to the wood and be safe. Alone, insane, but safe. The other knew to Stay.

Why? He’d forgotten again.

“Oh, sweet thing.” Elysabeth clicked her tongue, kneeling close to him; “Thou should know you don’t have to fear me. I’d’st never harm thee, never.”

She spoke as if they had done this before. Had they? Probably. Time didn’t always feel like a straight line, but more of a circle, events repeating in a pattern, sometimes invisible to the eyes of people who only lived a tiny fraction of what he’d been around for. It was so easy for everything to feel jumbled up.

“Did thou get lost again?” Elysabeth asked him; “Always seems to happen around this time of the month. This be your version of a woman’s cycle?”

There’s a smile on her face and even though part of him understands the joke, he doesn’t have it in him to laugh. Laughing is another skill he seemed to have forgotten, along with speaking. Even smiling could be a strain, though the girl had been trying to encourage him.

His eyes glanced out the small holes in the hut to the sky outside. Plenty of stars were giving off enough light. Pretty enough, he supposed. Not as pretty as…

“Moo…” Rohr tried.

“Moo?” Elysabeth tilted her head; “You not be turning into a cow now, art thou?”

He shook his head, raising a finger; “Moo…Moon-ah…Moonah…” How long had it been since he’d said the word aloud, not just in his heart? Even the wolves loved Moonah.

“The moon?” She clarified, “But there’s no…Oh, I see! Ye be unwell when the moon goes dark? Before she regrows again?”

That was it, yes, he nodded. It wasn’t every month. Or at least, it hadn’t been, back before Markus, before he’d known any fellow ghost could be so cruel beyond death. Before, he’d been sane enough, most of the time, to know that Moonah always grew from a tiny silver smile in the sky, into a beautiful shining orb, then shrunk again until there was nothing but a faint dark circle imprinted in the sky. Then she came back. She always came back. Just like the other ghosts who came, stayed, then went – only for new ones to come along. Rohr was no idiot. He knew that nothing stayed forever.

Except him, and Moonah. Even Moonah had to go dark once a month, but that didn’t last forever. So why, recently, had he suddenly become so afraid that every time she went away would be the last time?

Elysabeth inched a little closer and he started to quiver again. How could he try to explain to her that it often felt like all his strength, all his courage, came from Moonah? The one constant in both his life and very, very long afterlife.

He moved his paw up to his temple.

“H-hurt…It…H-hurt…” He took a moment to stretch his jaw and tongue as she’d been showing him lately, in their long and boring hours alone on this land; “Too…loud…Too m-much t-talk…Time muddy up…Bad…thoughts…more r-real in dark. Moonah no…keep away…No..let s-sleep…”

Looking at her watching him, he wondered if any of his words were making sense. Elysabeth just let him continue.

“Want…sleep…Rrroghrr want…sleep…” That’s what it really came down to.

“Then why thou out of bed? C’mon,” she offered her hand.

He flinched back again, a shameful whimper escaping him, “C-can’t…Rohr not…Rohr told ‘no bed’…”

Elysabeth gave him a somewhat defiant smirk and crossed her arms.

“I thought thou said t’was my bed now?”

Frowning, he nodded. Of course it was. Whose else would it be now that…?

“So I says who can sleeps on it with me!” The girl defended; “Whatever puss-faced devil did tell thee otherwise, I hope his backside be simmering in Hellfire.”

His hand flew up to clasp over his mouth, only to hide something he knew would get him in a lot of trouble. At least, it would have done, many decades ago.

A smile.

It pained the unused muscles in his cheeks as it stretched, crookedly, lips twitching as he tried to suppress it. But the image the brave girl planted in his head had been too amusing.

Elysabeth beamed, reaching to try and tug his hand down.

“Be that a smile, Rohr? A real smile for me?” She said, looking as overjoyed to see her accomplishment; “I bets if that golden light did take the git up then the angels realised they made a mistake half-way and dropped him in a pile of o’ horse shit and now he be stuck there forever!”

The ancient man looked down, biting his tongue as he started to wheeze, as unused to laughter as he was smiling. Stop it, he wished he could beg, though he wouldn’t have meant the words.

“He be gone now, sweet thing.” The girl said, firmly; “It don’t matter where he be. He shows his ugly Roman snout around here again, he’ll be the one getting the beatin’, even if I has to use my own leg bone.”

That’s right, he remembered then. He had told her. Or, rather, she discovered what remained of his armor and the whip, half buried outside near the cow shed where he’d fallen down dead from that sickness. Rohr had screamed and cowered from the sight of the skull poking out room the mud.

Elysabeth couldn’t count very high, but she’d managed to put two and two together.

She reached her arms out to hold him, as she had that day, when he was reduced to little more than a terrified, broken-down animal.

“He not hurt you again. I’s never let anyone hurt you again.” She assured him.

And the strangest thing of all was how easy it was to believe her. The girl with a mangled leg who had flailed her shoe at a pack of giant, extinct wolves. For him.

She smiled at him, so close now, there was no cowering away from her. Not that he wanted to.

Elysabeth wasn’t Markus. Elysabeth wasn’t mean wolves. Elysabeth was…kind.

“If ye insist on sleeping upon the floor then I has no option but to join thee.” She said, and he winced a little in guilt.

“N-no…Lys-be…Lys-be sleep-.”

“Elysabeth sleep where Elysabeth chooses. Same as Rohr.” She stated, her young eyes peering into his; “Family be sleepin’ together, remember?”

Family. Pack. Tribe.

With a weary sigh, he decided to give in, once more, laying down on his side. This had been the only spot Markus allowed him to rest in the hut, farthest from the bed, farthest from him. Most people didn’t allow dogs to sleep inside so he should be fucking grateful. The dark thoughts begin to swirl again as he curled himself into a ball.

Then Elysabeth’s arms slid around him and they dispersed like shadows to the first light of dawn.

“My grandmother wouldst sing about the stars to ease my fears when I was a babe afraid of the dark.” She whispered to him. Shame stabbed at him; was that really how weak he seemed to her? “Wouldst thou want to hear it?”

He let out a tiny grunt. Sure. It was that or listen to his own mad thoughts for the rest of the night.

But when she started to sing, he was reminded of how much he missed the sound of music, of the bands and parties that used to occur back when the last tribe occupied these lands. Her voice was smooth as the silk on Penelope’s dress. It lifted him up out of the fog and into the clear, dazzling night sky as he closed his eyes.

“Moon and starlight. Starlight, starlight. When ye wake, thou shall be mine. Clouds and starlight…Starlight, starlight…”

*

“I hope you don’t expect me to sing.”

Rohr snorted, which turned into a laugh, a laugh that grew louder and continued for almost a full minute as the very image began to form in his head.

Then, finally, he shook his head; “Ah…no. Never. Ever. No.”

A pout formed on the Puritan's sour face; “I ain’t that bad! Just don’t wanna be singing any lullabies about stars and rainbows and the likes at three in the mornin’.”

“Me would not ask that, not want to risk breaking glass walls.”

“Windows, you moron, they’re called windows! Pretty sure you know that and you’re just winding me up when you talk like that.” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

He shrugged, giving a half-smile as if to say that was always a possibility. Nothing gave him quite as much joy these days than riling her up. Well, that and the nights the three of them wanted to do other stuff.

“You ask where song come from, I tell story, not expect you to sing.” Rohr explained, wishing the conversation could be over so he can watch the new lord go on his hunt with all his pasty friends. Sometimes he’s able to scare the deer away to give them a head start.

“Then what should I do then?” Asked Annie, crossing her arms.

Rohr scoffed, confused as to why this was such a concern for her; “Nothin’! Just…go find Mary. She know song, she seen it before. Don’t get Humphrey, he useless, his body sometimes better, at least hold me down if I really bad. Or just leave me to wake up by ‘self.”

“I ain’t doing that, Row.”

“Why? ‘Cause Mary be mad?” He rolled his eyes; “Sure she understand-.”

“It scared me, all right!”

He glanced at her, almost certain he heard her voice break, but surely that was impossible. Annie, gobby and fearless Annie, she never got upset, never showed a hint of vulnerability. Even now, watching her stand before him, he can see she’s struggling to keep that couldn’t-give-a-toss image together while something began to crumble behind it.

Rohr frowned, “What-?”

“Don’t you make me say it again.” She trembled, only slightly, fists clenched at her side; “Seeing you like that, last night…Finding you in that cupboard…I thoughts you were just japing with me! Playing some game where any moment you’d jump at me like ‘ha ha, gotcha Annie!’ But instead, you were just…shaking like you were possessed, which made no sense ‘cause you’re dead and I’m sure you be part demon anyway!”

He chose not to take offence as she was making the best, if rather laughable, attempt at bearing her soul to him.

“And you didn’t know me! You did not even see me, you were just…Whimpering, mumbling nonsense words…You were terrified and I had not a single clue as to why and that…” She bit her lip, looking as though she was inwardly cursing him, as if he’d forced her to confess this; “We’re supposed to be the strong ones, yeah? Me and you. Pair of wild beasts, together, you know that.”

Of course he did, but it was strange hearing her admit to it out loud. Yes, they were two of a kind, despite being from vastly different time periods and cultures. She was the first ghost he’d met in centuries who could take a joke and give as good in return, who was happy to rough and tumble to blow off steam, who never held back when it came to speaking her mind. They clashed constantly, but their scuffles always ended in the two of them rolling on the floor, laughing like idiots.

“Mary, she…She needs the both of us to be strong in ways she can’t. Same way she looks after us in our failings.” Annie continued; “And the posh head too, it’s easier not to forget him with the both of us, ‘specially when Mary forgets he ain’t her ‘Lord’ anymore. And I love her to bits, I’d die again a thousand times for her but…”

Creases formed across her face that she tried to hide by turning to the side. Her bonnet could only cover so much without her tugging the whole thing down.

Rohr took a cautious step forward, very much aware that she could turn and swing for him if he wasn’t careful.

“All of this, all this being dead and watching the livings – men in particular – go around behavin’ like shites without consequence, it feel like…It can feel like Hell, even with Mary beside me, sometimes it’s too much for her, reminds her of what they did. And the only other release I get is…With you.” She took a shaky breath; “When you make me laugh, or we spar together, or laugh at the posh idiots. Without you, Rohr, I…I dunno if I can keep it all together…I mean, if you can go mad, then what there be to stop me from-?”

She stopped as his fist connected with her arm.

“…Did you just thump me?” Annie blinked, tears that had been forming in her eyes stilling.

“Yes.” Just a little one. Barely more than a nudge.

“…I be pouring what blackened husk I got for a heart out to you and you gimmie a bloody thump in the arm?!” She sounds too confused to be mad about it.

He shrugged, cheeks warming; “Yes, me not sure why! Just…Well, normal person I would give hug but…You not normal. You…Annie.”

That clearly stumped her. He saw the red glow on her own face, one hand reaching up to rub the spot where he’d ‘punched’ her.

“I guess a hug would have freaked me out more, coming from you.” She smirked, for as physical as they were with each other in many ways, she didn’t really hug anyone other than Mary. Even when she held Humphrey’s head it was usually at a distance.

“Just meant to say…No worry about it.” He tried to explain; “It just something that happen, always has, me have bad night, it pass and me fine…Not like me going anywhere…”

“You better not because if you dare try to fly up to those clouds before me or Mary, I’ll be dragging you back by those fluffy boots, boy!”

He didn’t doubt it for a second.

“But…I ain’t just gonna do nothing when my friend is in pain, okay?” She said, as firmly as she could; “Would you if it were me?”

Usually he’d make a joke, some gag about how he’s used to dealing with her acting like a feral beast, but he stopped himself. Even he knew when it wasn’t the right time.

He shook his head.

 “So then, tell me what I should do next time I find you like that, other than try to sing and torture everyone around us.”

With a smile, he agreed; “…Just. Sit. Talk to me. Not shouty or panicky, just talk. Try to get me to remember stuff we do, stuff that make laugh. Names are good…Say your name, and Mary’s and Humphrey…There names of others I knew before, could teach…But most important is. Stay.”

Which she hadn’t done last night, not that he blamed her. It was the reason why he tried to restrict his ‘turns’ these days to the newly built kitchen cupboard, just the right size for him to curl up and hide in, making a dash for it whenever he felt his head start to spin. Just bad luck that she’d overheard his fevered mumbling this time and poked her head through to see him twitching and whimpering on the floor.

But it was fine. She’d fetched Mary, and from what little his somewhat-stable mind could recall, she’d come to find him, she’d gathered him close in her arms, sang Elysabeth’s song in between repeating the names of his children and his friends. And then darkness. Rest. It was fine. It was over.

Annie took the information in and nodded; “Guess that’s simple enough.”

He smirked; “You so cute when you care.”

“All right, moment’s over! That’s all I needed to know.”

Oh no, he wasn’t done yet! Rohr sniggered, skipping after her as she tried to turn away.

“Ha ha, you love me! Annie loves her friend!”

This time she swung for him, far harder than he’d punched her, her blow knocking him backwards and onto his arse. Still giggling, he touched the slightly sore spot on his jaw where there’d be no bruise, or even pain within a couple of seconds. He grinned up at her as she smirked down at him.

“See you tonight, savage.” She winked before leaving him to enjoy the hunt.

*

Elysabeth had done so much for him. In a mere several decades, she’d taught him how to speak the common tongue, she’d made him feel comfortable walking and sitting like a man again, he was able to laugh and smile again all because of her. He’d had many, many friends over the centuries, but she was more than that. She was a miracle.

Most important, she could bring Moonah and the stars back when he lost them, with a single song. When he lost himself, she always brought him home.

And so, when the day came when the unthinkable happened, when they invited another ghost to join them – as he always had – he’d been dumb enough to think he’d be able to spot another Markus. After what happened the last time, he’d be able to sniff out another potential threat, surely. Never, in a thousand years, would he have welcomed the sweet little warrior boy into their home if he had known there was a wolf beneath that sheep mask.

He’d been a stupid, foolish creature. He’d let that pretty face and funny-lordy voice convince him to let his guard down, trick him into believing that it would be safe to leave him alone…with her.

“Please, Lyssie, I beg of thee.”

Elysabeth was doing her best not to tremble in the young man’s presence as he approached her at the edge of the woods.

“Thou was warned to stay away.” She reminded him.

“I cannot just stay in the woods, not with all these animals, I’m losing my mind.” Edmund appealed, gritting his teeth; “But every time I try to set foot anywhere else on the grounds, he comes for me. Please. Tell him to leave me alone. I promise I won’t come near thy hovel, just allow me to roam on the fields and by the lake… Permit me to follow livings when they wander across the land.”

“Ye can do what ye like when we sleep, I care not. But he were here long before either of us were born. If Rohr don’t want thee loose on his land, then it be down to him.” She folded her arms, though she struggled to meet his eyes.

Edmund attempted the abandoned puppy look; “Lyssie. This is not humane. T’is not fair. I committed no act of sin upon thee.”

“You would have done.” She glared, a flash of fury across her young face; “You did hurt me.”

“T’was an accident, dear one. A misunderstanding.” He took a step towards her; “Just tell me what I need to do to earn forgiveness.”

“Admit what thou did!” Elysabeth demanded, “Say it. Apologise, truly.”

The young man sighed, running a hand through those blond locks, the ends slightly matted with blood from the battle in which he died.

“I am sorry for how it seemed to thee-.”

“Answer wrong!”

Rohr had held himself back for long enough. This plan of Elysabeth’s hadn’t been one he’d been fond of to begin with, but had been willing to give it a chance, after enough time had passed. Except time had changed nothing.

He leapt out from behind the tree from which he’d been crouched, letting the Anglo-Saxon teenage girl act as bait, luring the letch out thinking she was alone.

Edmund stumbled back in fright; “No…Rohr, please…”

“What you think?” He asked, shielding the young girl.

“I…She’s a liar, Rohr. They’re all liars, I-.”

He shut him up with a growl, baring his teeth. He wasn’t afraid to use them, to pin the man down and rip his skin from his flesh and then watch as it regrew before he started again, just as he’d watched his wolf pack do to the forest critters. Just give him a reason.

Edmund flinched, but didn’t run. Rohr kept him in his sight as he addressed his small friend.

“What you think, Lys’beh?” He asked, again.

She took a breath; “I think he had two years to think on what he did and he still won’t admit to it. We been fair enough, we gave him a chance…And he failed. If he still here then other deads who join us be at risk…”

A twinge of fear showed on the handsome face.

Elysabeth stepped back; “I’m going home. Do what ye want with him.”

Now those were the words he was waiting to hear. Rohr smiled, his wolf smile, watching the terror gleam in the other man’s eyes.

As soon as he was certain that Elysabeth was at a safe distance, he took a step forward.

“Please-.”

With another growl, louder now, Rohr unleashed himself, breaking the invisible chain that Elysabeth had somehow managed to clamp around the neck of the feral creature she’d met all those years ago. He charged forward, giving just enough time for Edmund to make the smart choice to turn and run, run for his soul’s safety.

Never had he been the most bloodthirsty of men. Sure, a good sparring match or battle made for good entertainment, but even in life he’d never gone seeking to cause pain. Spears were for hunting food, sometimes protecting the tribe from strangers, but it never did good to go seeking war for the sake of war. That only brought trouble to family, put babies and elderly and wounded in danger. Even when animals attacked the tribe, it brought him no pleasure to put them down, like when he killed the wolf who mauled his mother. It had only been trying to survive, after all, just like them.

But this? He didn’t just want to cause Edmund pain. He hungered for it, just as he had with Markus. He needed him to break and scream and cry. He needed him to suffer ten-fold for what he tried to do to Elysabeth, what he would have done had Rohr not heard her call for him on the wind, had he not arrived there just in time. He hadn’t been able to stand up to Markus, not until the damage had already been done.

Not again. Elysabeth would not be left at risk again. She was his tribe now. She was all he had.

And he would shred the sky apart to keep her safe.

Fury bubbled in his veins as he pursued the other man, weaving back and forth through the trees, blocking off every escape until Edmund had no choice but to go further inward, eventually finding the abandoned, mostly overgrown entrance crafted from rock and flint.

Rohr sniggered to himself. Like catching a rabbit in a trap, he hadn’t forgotten the skills Ma taught him. He followed his prey into the fortress.

The tunnels that ran beneath the woods were a vast and winding maze, but there was only one entrance and exit. Nostrils flaring, he caught onto the man’s scent again, fear adding that extra spice.

He didn’t even have to run. He was happy to take this as slow as possible.

Even before he caught up with the warrior, the man’s pitiful whimpers echoed throughout the narrow passageways.

Rohr approached, one step at a time, claws flexing at his side, for that’s what they would be. His eyes adjusted to the dark better than humans today. The warrior continued to step backwards, no where left or right for him to run anymore, no where but further down, towards this ‘Hell’ he so often heard them speak of. If the descriptions were accurate, he could think of no better destination for his pretty friend here.

“All you had to do…was say sorry. Apple-o-gyse for her cry. And me would have left you alone in these woods till you go up.” He sneered, rounding the corner.

Edmund shook his head; “I refuse to apologise for something I did not do!”

His foot slipped. A scream shook the walls as he fell back, hands scrambling for the dirt, falling backwards, down a steep ditch into oblivion.

Rohr pounced, reaching forward and grabbing the front of Edmund’s armour, thumb and forefinger tight at the cloak around his neck. He held his arm out straight, watching with amusement as the younger man’s legs flailed above a thirty-foot drop, dug deep many, many years ago to throw down the waste – and bodies - of the tribe that hid down here. He wondered if they’d be happy to know it still came in useful, long after both themselves and the Romans were gone.

Fingers clasped at the wolf-skin sleeve.

“Please. Rohr. Listen to me.” He appealed, voice breaking with desperation; “Thou art not a monster. Don’t let the little wench turn you into one to do her bidding! Show mercy. Please.”

Mercy? That wasn’t a word he’d heard of before.

“What is ‘mer sea’?”

Edmund’s eyes darted down at the chasm beneath his feet, clinging onto Rohr for all he could.

“It’s…giving someone a second chance…A chance of redemption. Not just…being cruel. Don’t be cruel, Rohr…Don’t be the savage people think of when they see you.”

He began to pull the man closer to where he stood on the ledge.

“That difference between us. You not admit to be what you are. You not wish to be monster. You want people to believe you good, pretty man.” Rohr whispered; “Me? I no care. Me happy to be monster they see – when I need to be.”

With a fierce thrust, he stretched his arm out again. Edmund whimpered. There would be no mercy for him today, nor ever.

The ‘savage’ smiled; “Bye.”

He let go.

*

“Do you regret it?”

Rohr was watching the young girl sleep as she curled into him, one hand gripped into his furs. Rarely did she wish to sleep away from him these days, not since his return from his little ‘holiday’ in the pit, deep beneath the woods. He let her believe it was mostly for his benefit, to have her close if the torture he’d endured showed its aftermath and he needed her to sooth him, as she had in those early years of their friendship. But really, she was the one who tended to wake most nights, pale and sweating from night terrors, afraid that she’d lost him again.

As much as it pained him to see her suffer so many nightmares focused on him, in a way it saved him from dwelling on what had happened, of the empowered Edmund’s six months of brutal revenge. Rohr had always done better when he had a purpose, a new dead friend to make, new livings to watch and learn from, and most of all when he had someone who needed to be taken care of.

“Hmm?” He looked up at Will, sat in the big Lord man’s armchair with his feet up on a velvet stall. It had taken a few seconds for him to know he was being spoken to.

William chuckled; “Never mind. Stupid question. I know I would’ve done the same. If anyone on my ship tried to do something like that on one of the crew mates, man or miss, they were immediately chucked overboard. Sea usually took care of them quicker than a deep grave though. Especially if there were sharks near about.”

Rohr returned the smirk, not that he’d ever seen a shark, the description alone sounded very impressive. The picture conjured in his head was basically that of a giant sturgeon with teeth bigger than its head.

“Only regret be not able to find way to destroy sooner.” But it wasn’t like he’d had any clue that his plan with the lightning would work as well as it did. Just a foolish hope that was lucky enough to be true.

And he couldn’t exactly control the weather, he thought, though Clarence seemed to be convinced that the growing storm had come from the pain he suffered for all that time. Had he been trapped so long in this place that his spirit could connect to the sky the same way Edmund’s had seeped into the ground?

It was rather depressing to think that if Edmund hadn’t tortured him for all those months, then he wouldn’t have had the means to blow him to ashes. Lucky him.

“What’s done is done, Rohr. You did what you did to protect that one.” Will nodded to Elysabeth.

Lys-beh. Lizbeth. Elizabeth.

Her name had subtly changed through the ages, similar to his own, though remaining mostly the same. Language was like that, he was well aware, and he knew he’d been rather fortunate that his modern friends still called him the same name as what his mother gave him, even if they couldn’t quite master rumbling their ‘r’s as he could.

The two of them lay by the fireplace, the coals still smouldering with the waning flames, long after the master of the house had gone to bed.

“Me just hope it is done now. Not had many ghost be trouble like him. Most just…people. Annoying or, worse, boring, like Clarence sometimes. Not always…”

“Demons?”

It wasn’t quite the word he preferred to use. All the tales he’d heard about these ‘demons’ just sounded like stories meant to scare. Masks that he and Elizabeth had once wore to frighten people off so they wouldn’t be underestimated again. Ghosts could gain ‘powers’, to an extent, though very rare. Some connection to the elements in the living world. He’d never seen any be as destructive as Edmund’s before.

Let alone his own. If Edmund had been, or at least become, a demon…Then what was he?

Elysabeth stretched in her sleep, nuzzling into him, and the sound of her content murmuring dispelled all the self-doubt. Whatever. If being a demon or a monster was what it took to protect her then sure, why not. His knuckles stroked across her cheek.

“Well, forgive me, but I wouldn’t say no to more terrifying monsters turning up every century or so. Makes for more excitement than watching Alexander have his dull-arse trade meetings, or the monk attempting to preach to folks who can’t her a word he says.” William remarked, jovially.

Rohr was sniggering in agreement, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the child, as Godric walked through the wall.

“Oh! No, wait…” He shook his head; “Me thought we speak of anti-devil and he appear.”

“I think I got what expression you were aiming for there.” Will huffed.

Godric frowned, looking surprisingly stern as the two of them shared a smirk.

“We thought you Clarence.” Rohr explained.

“Oh…” His friend said, sounding a little dazed. Had he just woken up? It was getting rather late, he knew, and he kept meaning to carry Elizabeth to bed but got so distracted filling William in on one of the darkest moments of his past.

Will tilted his head; “Everything all right, mate?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I…I think so, uhm…” Godric reached a hand back to scratch his neck, eyes spotting Elizabeth asleep against Rohr. He took a breath; “…I think Clarence is gone.”

Rohr sat up.

“What?”

William put his foot down off the stall; “Gone? You mean like…?”

“No, not like…that pillock.” Godric’s lips curled in disgust, refusing to say the warrior’s name; “He didn’t…dissolve or crumble. He didn’t look scared. We were just downstairs, watching a few of the servants arguing about that missing silverware and who was gonna take the blame…and I said to him ‘Ain’t you missing your evening prayer?’ And he looked at me all startled, then he laughed and said ‘Guess I am’.  And he laughed. I mean…properly laughed. Then…”

He knew what came next. Not like what happened to Edmund at all. Golden light, angelic choir, gentle floating upward and then silence.

How it always went.

“Blimey…” William gasped, collapsing back into the chair, letting it catch him; “…and that’s it? That’s how we all…go?”

Rohr nodded. Yes. Everyone…except him, he thought, doing his best to bury his bitter envy.

“That’s what I thought had happened to you, Rohr, for all those months.” Godric confessed, apparently not having finished apologising for giving up hope, despite how many times Rohr assured him that it was fine; “I told myself you’d looked as happy as that old man did when he finally went up to meet that god of his.”

Despite not believing in Clarence’s beardy god who liked sleep nailed to wood, he thought he might have preferred going up to this Christian ‘heaven’ than the suffocating, impaling Hell he’d been trapped in.

He gulped, the reality of it not having quite sunk in. Only a minute ago, he and Will had been making jokes about his boring godly lectures. Now he was..gone, gone.

No matter how many times it happened, it was always a shock.

“What d’you say?”

The men all turned their heads to the tired, soft voice coming from the girl tucked under Rohr’s arm. He shifted as Elizabeth slowly sat up, squinting the sleep from her eyes.

Godric bit his lip; “Didn’t know you were awake.”

“Neither did I.” She mumbled, blinking at him; “D’you say…Clarence is…?”

Rohr placed a hand on the spot between her shoulder blades.

His taller friend nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile; “Sorry to say, lass. This time it were exactly like Rohr always said.”

The girl reacted about the same as he and Will. Silent. No tears, no words, not at first.

After a while, she finally spoke; “…He…He taught me to read..”

That was true. Him too, though for Rohr it had been more of a refresher on how to read the updated English language. It had meant more than that though, he felt the meaning in Elizabeth’s words. The reading lessons had only been a small part of how much Clarence had helped them when he’d joined them. Before the monk, the two of them hadn’t had any interest in making other friends, living or dead. They’d kept to the woods – the ones on the other side of where he’d imprisoned the warrior. They’d amused themselves by haunting anyone who dared to step through their land, Elizabeth leaving her mysterious trail of blood, some moon-touched folk catching sight of the beast-man in the corner of their eyes.

If not for Clarence, they might not have let themselves trust anyone new again. They’d still be nothing but two lost, paranoid souls, overly protective of each other to the point of possession.

Godric sighed, reaching a hand out to her; “I’m so sorry, Liz.”

The girl pushed herself up and limped less than three short strides towards him, letting him embrace her. Rohr watched her crumble against his broad chest, tears leaking out.

“Damn it, can’t believe I be crying over that crusty, god-bothering old bore…” she sniffled.

“I know, love. Thought I’d be relived when he couldn’t try to drag us to those morning meditation sessions by the lake every dawn.” Godric attempted to laugh, though his own bearded face was creasing with loss.

Will cleared his throat; “I mean…I can’t speak for how you all are feeling…But I was hoping to get to know the bloke more before he left us. I mean…that’s it, I take it? They don’t come back?”

“No.”

Rohr felt the eyes all turn to him as he uttered the confirmation. Cold and blunt. But honest. He wished he could give a different answer. Looking back, way back, he could still remember the first time he’d seen a fellow spirit be taken up into the sky. He’d been so confused, back before he’d heard any concept of ‘paradise’ or ‘heaven’ or ‘the fields of Elysium’. Where had they gone? Why? There had been no one to give him answers…there had been no one else at all. He’d been alone, just as when he’d first woken up and walked away from his own sizzling body.

There had been nothing to do except wait. And wait. And wait.

Eventually, after a hundred years or more, Rohr had to accept the fact that his grandson wasn’t coming back.

He looked at Elizabeth, face softening, apologetic; “…Me never seen anyone come back. Pretty sure that it. Whatever come next…me dunno.”

There were all sorts of theories that he often floated around in his head, but it wasn’t the time to be sharing them, of giving any of the others false hope when he couldn’t be certain.

“But…as you say…” he looked to Godric; “He smile?”

The other man nodded, one hand petting Elizabeth’s hair; “Just like you said my Becca did. If she looked half as blissful as Clarence, then…”

That was what they needed to focus on, he knew. Whatever came next, it made them all smile.

William got to his feet.

“Anyone else fancy some fresh air?”

Great idea. They all decided that they didn’t feel like sleeping, that was for certain. The three men, with Elizabeth clinging to Rohr’s shoulders, ventured out into the recently renovated gardens. Moonah was only in her half-phase tonight, not as bright as he would have liked her to be but appreciated the effort all the same.

No one knew what to say. Rohr knew enough about Clarence’s religious beliefs that he’d probably have wanted some sort of ritual. But it wasn’t as if there was a body to bury, even if they could. Would he have wanted one of those slow, boring Roman songs he liked sung for him? Or one of the prayers from the book he’d carried around for so long? That loss stung, he was surprised to feel. He didn’t believe in his god, or that any of those words did anything special, but it had been the tool the monk had used to teach him and Elizabeth to read all those years ago. The words were comforting, even if they had no spiritual value to him. Some were big boring but others were…pretty…

He was starting to feel as though he’d failed the old monk as a friend, as well as a student, in knowing some way to honour his memory, until he saw William pointing at the stars.

“Hmmm…I’m thinking that one there. The big round one, at the top of the line, kinda a bit like a cross, wouldn’t you say?”

Godric frowned; “What you blabbering about, man?”

Will just smirked; “Ah, forgive me, forgot I was with a new crew for a second there. See, on a ship, we can’t exactly do burials when one of our own dies when we’re on the waves. If we can, we take their bodies back to their families but a lot of the time the journeys are long…and well having a decaying corpse on board is no one’s favourite thing, not to mention those who say it brings bad luck. So most of the time it’s best to give them to the water.”

“That’s so sad.” Elizabeth commented, hands linked together beneath Rohr’s chin.

“Nah it ain’t, little lass. It’s just a shell at the end of the day. We know that better than the livings do.” Will said, gently, to her, “Besides, rather than giving them a grave, what we do instead is look to the stars. We find one we like, and we name it after them. Better than any headstone, wouldn’t you say? Those things get destroyed so easily, graves get untended to…but the stars are forever.”

“Not forever.” Rohr argued, a little sad; “Me been around long enough to see even stars go…”

“‘Course, I know about that, I have met astronomers in my travels y’know. But even they reckon that the stars that die reform as new ones. No idea how they work that out but…it feels right, don’t it? Anyway, most of them last longer than any tomb, I know that.”

That was true. Rohr had always loved the stars, almost as much as Moonah, and part of him had always wondered if that was where the friends he’d lost had flown to.

As many lights twinkled down at them as people he had lost over the hundreds of centuries.

If he wanted, he could find a star for every single one of them, and all the more to come. He smiled, finding the thought oddly comforting, the idea that all he had to do was look up and know that he wasn’t alone. Not just because of Moonah, because even Moonah had to sleep. But the stars would remain, at least on cloudless nights, he would always be able to find them. His friends. His family.

They stayed out until the first hues of dawn began to grace the sky, the stars still a plenty against the lavender backdrop. William and Godric talked amongst themselves while Rohr sat against one of the trees, Elizabeth in his lap, her head only then beginning to dip as she started to tire again.

“D’you really think he be watching us?” She asked, rubbing at her eyes, leaning back against his chest.

He nodded; “Oh yeah…Be wagging finger like ‘make sure both keep learn, no slack, devil make ideal hands’ blah blah. Devil sound good to me if he make hands ideal, but what me know.”

She let out a weak giggle.

He nuzzled her hair; “Go sleep, Lizbeth.”

“I don’t want to…What if I wake up and another one of you is gone.”

“That not happen…It never happen that soon. Always long, long gap.” He was partly sure of that anyway. There had been some exceptions. “Beside…if we go…any of us…it not sad. ‘Member? It always happy. And all need do is look up. Find us in stars. Never alone…”

The young girl shuddered, fingers clutching onto his arm, digging in deep.

“And you’ll remember that? Won’t you? Just in case I ever…” she asked, her voice breaking off.

He opened his mouth, only to lose whatever words he’d had planned, which were quickly forgotten.

That’s why she was scared? Not of herself being left alone but…him being alone? Again…?

His heart aching, he rubbed her shoulders; “If Lizbeth go up to stars before Rohr…it be happiest day. Promise. Would not be sad and not be alone. Will find brightest star and know Lizbeth always stay with Rohr.”

“Promise.” She told him, sounding so much older than she looked with her commanding tone; “And promise you’ll teach my song to someone else, so they can bring the moon and stars back when you need them.”

He nodded, smiling as he tried to imagine Godric and William belting out such a tune. He’d probably be able to snap himself out of his blip of madness from sheer cringing alone.

“Me promise. No have to worry about this yet. Me sure we be together for very, very long time still-.”

*

“Robin?”

That’s wrong. No one is supposed to be calling him that name yet.

He shifts, feeling the empty space in his arms, where there’s supposed to be a short, skinny body cuddled into him. Gone now. Gone, he starts to remember, for many, many years.

“Robin, are you awake? Robin. Robin. Robin. Robin!”

“Yes, me awake!” He snapped, not having any choice it seemed, “What you want, Kitty?”

The last thing he wanted was to be sharp with her, but he couldn’t help but be a little irritated, not just from being disturbed in his sleep but from a dream that had been such a vivid, special memory. He was trying hard not to resent her for cutting it short, not that there was much left to it.

“It’s Mary. I think she’s having a nightmare but she’s also sleepwalking. Humphrey saw her wandering the halls and I could hear her crying from my bedroom.”

Robin frowned, his eyes still closed as he lay in his spot at the window.

“Where Annie? Why she not…?” He asked, only to be cut off by a choked sob.

Oh. Right.

Opening his eyes, he saw her cast her gaze to the floor, shadows of grief fallen over her face. Damn it. Waking up in the aftermath of losing someone was always the worst, because the brain always seemed so willing to forget so it could take a break from mourning, just for a few seconds. And then it came back like a bear claw to the face.

Robin sat up, getting to his feet and reaching to touch her arm.

“It okay. Go back to bed. Me take care of her.” He said, softening his voice for her as much as he could.

She gave him a wobbly smile; “You sure?”

He shrugged; “That my job. Me Robin ‘Good Fellow’, yes?” He might as well live up to the literal meaning of the name she picked for him, as well as playing the part of the playful sprite when they needed cheering up.

It didn’t take long to find her at all. He knew there was one spot she was most likely to have gone if she could still be heard within the house.

Mary stood at the top of the west wing staircase, staring down at the next level, at the far-right corner. He approached, cautiously, not wanting to startle her while she was buried deep in her head, knowing first hand how risky that could be.

She was mumbling under her breath, incoherent, at least to his ears. But distressed, all the same.

“Mary.” He said, gently, “Mary, you hear me?”

“She was there.” She spoke, rather suddenly, eyes still fixed down the stairs; “We supposed to be meeting here. We always meets here, it be our spot, t’is where we find each other…But she not making her presence known to me…Where she be?”

Her fingers moved up, wanting to wave at some invisible face, but the look of despair on her soot-covered face told Robin she knew there was no one to return it this time. Not even in her dreams.

“I can’tst find her, Row…” she began to whimper; “Is lost her…Is lost Annie…”

“No. No lost. Here.” He carefully slid her hand into his; “Follow? Me take you to her, yes? C’mon…”

Without waking from her dream, she let him lead her down the stairs, eyes glazed over, clutching his hand with a subconscious trust that had grown so much from the first day they’d met and she’d screamed that he was one one of Satan’s minions.

Once on the ground level, he gently tugged her through the wall and into the outside, positioning her on the lawn once they reached it.

He placed himself behind her, sliding his arms around her.

“Look up. You see? There she is.” He points up to the one they’d picked out for her, several days ago, when he’d showed her what he did when someone went up. How he kept them close.

“…Oh…Oh yeah…” Mary blinked, “That does explain why I can’t be finding her. Silly cow. I were looking in wrong place…”

As she swayed back against him, he took his cue to start lowering her to the floor, before her knees could buckle. He knelt and continued to hold her, arms around her middle.

The faraway look on her face as she gazed upward told him she still wasn’t fully awake.

Good. Usually better that way, in his experience, if he can just ease her to sleep properly without startling her into cold, hard reality. It’s what she often did for him. He hadn’t needed to be the one easing someone else through one of these in many a year. In fairness, it made sense for Annie to be the one in charge of that, as she was most likely to be in Mary’s bed when, and if, they occurred.

And there had been the odd time when he’d woke, after his mind had ran a marathon through a dark forest of thorns and vicious, grasping roots and cries of little faces he hadn’t seen in many lifetimes, to find both women holding him between them. Annie wasn’t as bad a singer as she feared. He regretted not telling her that when he’d had the chance.

“Shouldst not be out here too late…T’is where they did take hold of me last time…” Mary began to murmur, pupils darting around the field; “Strange woman wandering the field, talkin’ to the devils in her soul, cursin’ our crops…Wanna stays ‘ere’, with Annie, can’t lets them take me-.” Her frame started to shiver.

“Hey, hey,” Robin began rubbing her arms, “Shh. Stupid men not hurt again. Me make sure. They try, I make them be ones to scream.”

It may have been a while since he’d had to resort to such measures, and it may have come back to bite him in the bum eventually, but he would gladly do it again.

His fingers tucked a lock of her ashen hair aside as she leaned against his shoulder.

“Close eyes. Me bring Annie back, yes? Take you to stars?” He whispered, feeling her already begin to relax as he held her there on the deserted lawn, nothing but the two of them and the dazzling sky above.

Mary nodded, one hand feeling for his; “Wouldst be a most kindly beast, you would.” She mumbled.

Smiling, he sang her Elysabeth’s song.

*

“Shh…Sleepin’ baby on the wing, clouds and starlight, starlight, starlight, fly to dreams and mornin’ brims. Starlight, sleep and love…” He circled his finger above her face, slow and steady, watching her wide eyes follow it round in a daze; “C’mon. Don’t wake Mama now, she very tired…Uncle Robin take you to stars, yes? Listen. Shh…”

But she seemed far more interested in reaching those chubby fingers out to grab his finger, or try to push herself up to take fistfuls of his beard in both hands.

“Sleeping baby, shadowed dust…Clouds and starlight, starlight, starlight,” he persisted, wishing his voice didn’t sound like a bear being put through a wood-chipper; “When we called to go, we must. Into starlight…starlight, starlight-.”

“That’s beautiful. Not heard that before.”

Freezing up, as though he’d been caught messing with the expensive living room lamp again, he stilled his movements as he leant over the crib.

Alison sat up in bed, where she was supposed to be having a much-needed afternoon nap after having just given Mia a feed. Her eyes were so red, barely able to stay open, and the last few weeks seemed to have added a decade of age to her face.

“Sorry.” He whispered, straightening up, his knuckle moving to stroke at his shift.

Mia gurgled beneath him, stretching her arms out further, now that the funny face had moved out of her range of vision.

“Heard baby stir and…Wasn’t sure if should have left to sleep but…didn’t want to wake-.”

“It’s fine, Robin. It’s fine.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

A part of him knew the reason for that, and he suspected some of the others did too, but all of them were too afraid to say it out loud. But it seem to become more evident with each passing day, more so with Betty’s presence meaning they were unable to properly communicate with each other. Thank Moonah she and Mike were currently downstairs, engaged in some chat about one of Mike’s sisters.

When the baby began to grizzle, upset that the face wasn’t coming back, he glanced down at her, unsure of what he was permitted to do. He looked to Alison.

“Go on. Gotta give the little madam what she wants.” She said, affectionately; “Give her the stars.”

Robin gave a half-smile. Any time. He leant over the crib again, reassured as Mia settled back, content that her demand had been answered so quickly. Too young for smiles, but those eyes beheld a universe of relief and joy at his presence.

She especially loved it when he stretched his digits out, just a touch of ghostly magic, causing the lights in her mobile to twinkle.

He carried on singing, swirling his finger, the little one eventually wearing herself out attempting to hold it, arms flopping down to her sides. Classic trick. Babies really hadn’t changed much in ten thousand years.

Finally, her eyes began to close, and he gave her another verse to make sure she was settled.

Then he looked up, smiling triumphantly at Alison, who had collapsed back onto her side on the bed. Two for one. Not bad for a savage, he grunted to himself.

He’s half-way towards the door when he heard her mumble; “Robin…?”

“Mmm?”

Alison shifted atop the bedsheets, eyes still closed; “Thanks…’Know I haven’t been able to speak to you all lately with…But, really do ‘ppreciate it, from all you guys…” a yawn interrupted her, stretching her face wide; “…So glad I chose to stay.”

“Us too…Sorry ‘gain, ‘bout whole try to murder thing.”

There was a sting of guilt in his gut but part of him suspected that wasn’t the cause.

The stressed-out new mother gave a hum; “S’what families are meant to do, ain’t it…Kill each other half the time, or somethin’.”

He wasn’t sure that was the expression. And while there had been the odd attempted murder in his own family, long ago, they probably weren’t the best example for nowadays.

“We’ll be okay though…Won’t we…Need some o’ that ancient wisdom right now…”

Were he truly as wise as that, he’d tell her that she was wrong, that she’d made a mistake. A wise man would tell her to run, to stop killing herself trying to be a mother and a caretaker to eight dead people, all while trying to live in a crumbling, draughty manor. He’d tell her that, as wonderful as it was for them to get to see that little baby look at them, love them, want them…It wasn’t worth Alison and Mike missing out on the chance to raise her somewhere safe, somewhere secure.

He knew this and said nothing, that’s as far as his wisdom went. Because all it took was a look at Mia, then a look at Alison, and he remembered Elysabeth. And Mary. And Annie and Godric and William…

And the pain became too much to bear more loss. Not just yet.

“You be okay, Alison.” He told her. Not we, because he’d learned that there were no guarantees, even among the dead. Everything came. Everything left.

It hurt. There was no hiding from it. It always hurt. And it would hurt all of them, Alison included.

But she would be okay, her and Mike and Mia. Whatever may come, they’d have to make sure of that. And if she needed them, they’d be there, whether it was in the house or the stars. They’d be there.

When we’re called to go, we must.

Into starlight, sleep and love.