Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They really, really needed to have better plans when it came to cases.

And as their feet pounded against the carpeted floor, Edwin was also beginning to wish that he’d taken Charles’s offer to teach him combat lessons more seriously. 

Because whilst the spirit currently chasing them down wasn’t wielding a chainsaw, the speed of which the katana was wielded made little difference. 

Their client had been an antique collector by the name of Arabella Fensmore. She’d told them that after the acquisition of a Japanese katana, the first of its kind in her collection, she had started to experience violent dreams every night. Mere days after she added it to her collection, she dreamed of herself wielding the katana as a samurai, with the distinct impression that she was in battle. She could not remember who or what she was fighting, only the vivid feeling of a blade cutting through flesh and that she needed to keep fighting. When she awoke, she had been horrified to find herself standing in the hall, her beloved cat hacked to pieces in front of her, a bloodied knife gripped in her hands. She had tried to sell the blade away immediately afterwards, only for her buyers to die within a week of acquiring the damned thing and for it to make its way back to her. The first was an old man who fell down the stairs and broke his neck, the second was a middle aged woman who had suddenly hung herself. After that, firmly believing that the blade was cursed, she tried to bury the sword in a locked case in the middle of the forest that spanned the edge of her property and flung the key into the river. The following night, she awoke in the night to a terrible pain in her chest, flung herself off her bed and turned around to see herself in blood soaked sheets and the handle of the same knife used to kill her cat sticking out of her chest.

Charles didn’t miss Edwin’s trembling white knuckled grip on his armrest hidden under the table or the way Crystal had turned away as Arabella was describing the last image. He hadn’t been there to witness Niko getting her chest slashed open, but the image of her lying there in a pool of her own blood was still imprinted onto his eyelids. He couldn’t even imagine how Edwin or Crystal had felt in that moment, standing right there and still helpless to do anything but watch.

He wished again that he had hit Esther Finch harder when they first met, and every time they encountered her afterwards. He would have made what he did to Charlie with the music box look like a friendly roughhousing game.

Instead, he placed his hand on Edwin’s and squeezed, not taking his eyes off Arabella or Crystal.

He felt Edwin interlock their fingers and squeeze tightly back.

Arabella continued, oblivious to their turmoil.

“And then I came straight to you. Please, I need you to get rid of it,” she pleaded. “Properly. I can’t let anyone else get hurt by this.”

Edwin swallowed and composed himself, sitting straighter in his chair.

“Ms Fensmore, how did you come to acquire such an item? If it curses every owner it passes through, then its reputation must have been notorious.”

Arabella looked a little sheepish.

“Well, actually, I sort of just…… stumbled upon it? I live basically in the middle of nowhere and I find weird stuff like that all the time. You’d be amazed how much treasure people leave on the side of the road.”

“I have seen people finding vintage furniture on the road,” added Crystal.

“I do have some of those, actually. I’ve a George II Secretary Cabinet that was just abandoned, such a waste. Who knew what the owners were thinking, throwing out such a gorgeous piece!”

“Hang on, you just found a katana on the side of the road ?” asked Charles.

“Well, not exactly,” she amended, “it was in a case. The same one I buried it in.”

The trio exchanged glances.

“At least that gives us a clue as to where it might have originated,” said Edwin. 

They ended their meeting by negotiating payment, with Arabella promising the detectives an item of their choice from her collection each in addition to a week’s rent for Crystal. 

“Not like I’ve any use for any material items, anymore,” she said. “And at least you three seem to know what you’re doing.”

Chapter Text

The house was, indeed, in the middle of nowhere. 

Had they travelled by normal means of transportation, it would have taken them most of the day, but Arabella had told them that there was an old mirror in her shed that they could discreetly hop through. Crystal had protested, but the boys had argued that it would be safer for her to be left behind for the time being, what with the unfortunate fates that became of the last few humans who were in close contact with the weapon.

“Crystal, none of us really know what we’re going up against,” Charles had said.

“Agreed, it could be the blade itself or it could be something else. We don’t know yet. We only know that the last few people who had even the briefest of contact with the article had unfortunate and increasingly gory deaths.” 

“Me and Edwin are just gonna pop over and make sure we know what we’re dealing with, and then we’ll pop back, make a better plan than ‘fuck around and find out’ and we’ll all go back.” 

“Fine,” the psychic had huffed, her arms crossed over her chest, “but if the both of you aren’t back by nightfall, I’m hopping on the first train. Got it?”

“Understood,” Edwin replied a little sarcastically. “Hopefully we’ll be able to spare you the train fare.”

None of them wanted to point out that, if things did go horribly wrong, there was little Crystal could do to make it in time and help anyways. 

It took them a while to find the katana. Arabella had buried it deep in the forest and it had rained as they arrived. Edwin could detect no magic or anything out of the ordinary, and with how recently it was buried the flora had yet to show any effects either, so they had to resort to good old-fashioned digging. 

Eventually, Charles struck something .

“Hey, Eds!” he called, “I think I found it!”

They pulled the long and slender case out of the dirt and leaves. It was made of dark wood and polished to a sheen. Embossed in the corner was what looped to be a signature. Within moments they managed to pry the case open, the lock giving easily due to wear and age.

Nestled snugly inside the white silk lining, was the katana. 

It was clearly an antique. The blade was well cared for, all things considered, but it still bore the unmistakable signs of age, the metal dull, the handle worn.

Edwin muttered an incantation, his gloved hand passing over, feeling for any indication of magic.

“Anything?” asked Charles.

Edwin shook his head, bewildered.

“It’s completely ordinary. There is no magic to be had in this weapon. It seems to me that the only value this has is in the historical, not the supernatural. There’s a little magic in the case, but it certainly isn’t strong enough to be the cause of so many deaths. ”

“So, what? Did Arabella get it wrong then? Maybe it isn’t the katana that’s the source of the deaths.”

“It is entirely possible that it was another item that’s cursed, but she didn’t mention anything else in particular apart from this.”

“Well, it wouldn't hurt to check, now would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t,”concurred his partner. “Better be safe than sorry.”

They buried the case under a layer of soil and leaves and went inside.

The air inside the house was already growing a little stale, mixed with the barest hint of decay. Arabella hadn’t been able to contact anyone after her death, so the only person alive who knew of her death was likely Crystal, who agreed to put in an anonymous report after the weapon was dealt with. 

“Wouldn’t want to let it cause any more deaths,” she’d said.

Arabella clearly held deep enthusiasm for her collection. Even though the basement was dedicated for the antiques, the detectives found a few articles scattered throughout the house. 

Edwin was inspecting a box that advertised a ‘Rejuvenique Beauty Mask’ when Charles called to him.

“Eds, you see that?”

Edwin hadn’t noted anything strange. Still, he scanned the room but nothing seem awry. He turned to his partner.

“See what, Charles?”

“Stay put.”

Edwin did so as Charles drew out his trusty cricket bat, arms poised to strike as he inched towards a glass cabinet displaying a row of various swords. 

He never noticed that one of the swords was hovering behind the case until the cricket bat clattered to the floor, the wood sliced clean in half.

“Charles!” 

Edwin heard metal sing as a metal star embedded itself into the wall next to his ear.

“Edwin!”

They bolted from the room as the phantom materialised and gave chase.

Edwin risked a glimpse back, only to see a lithe figure dressed completely in black with swords strapped to their back, their gaze murderous in the slot of the mask on their face.

It was fast. Edwin didn’t expect anything less, but he’d spent seven decades in Hell running from monsters that sought to tear him bone to bone and he could tell that this ghost was catching up faster than they could handle.

So they ran, and ran.

And ran. 

Charles rummaged for a Molotov but Edwin stopped him.

“Charles, no! We can’t risk doing damage to this house!”

With so many antiques they hadn’t been able to check, any one of them could be hiding some magic abilities.

That left one option left.

They needed to hide.

Charles must have shared the same conclusion, because when they turned the next corner, he grabbed Edwin by the arm and dragged them both through the door of the pantry. 

For a moment, they stood still amongst the shelves of canned and pickled food, not daring to draw unnecessary breath as the shadow slinked past the minuscule crack under the wood.

They listened for footsteps but the ninja was damnedably silent.

Until Edwin glimpsed the slightest glint of metal shining behind the jars.

“He’s here!”

They’d barely made it through the door before another dull thud indicated that another iron star had struck.

As they barrelled down the corridor, already non existent footfalls further softened by the carpet, both ghosts were painfully aware that it had struck where their heads had been moments before, 

“Charles! That mirror!”gasped Edwin. 

“What if it follows us?”

“I’ve a theory, but we have to hurry!”

And without sparing another moment, Edwin grabbed Charles’s hand and leapt through the nearest one.

They tumbled onto the office floor, startling Crystal, who had bolted upright from where she’d been lounging on the couch, knocking over her bag with the movement.

“Jesus, wha—“

“Stand back, Crystal!”

“Hey—what’s going—”

“Just hush for a moment, yeah Crystal?”

They braced themselves against the far wall without losing sight of the mirror, Crystal doing so as well despite not fully understanding the situation, and Charles grabbing a Molotov and tossing Edwin his spell book. A few metres wouldn’t have been much help to them if the ninja did come charging at them, but they couldn’t risk hiding and allowing the phantom to sneak through unseen. 

They stood there tense, waiting a full minute, then two, then three. Only when the mirror stayed solid and no ghoul rippled through did the boys relax.

“Alright then, it seems to me that we are safe,”declared Edwin. 

“Could anyone please explain to me what the hell just happened,” demanded Crystal.

“Yeah, Ed,  what just happened?” echoed Charles.

Edwin relaxed from his position towards the mirror to turn to his companions.

“Crystal, to put it succinctly, me and Charles have discovered that the client is currently being haunted by what appears to be the ghost of a Japanese ninja. Thankfully, it seems to be unable to follow us back here.”

“Why?” asked Crystal. 

“I’ll get onto that in a moment. Charles, I’m sure you remember the WWI soldier who chased us back here.”

“Eugh, I can still feel that blood,” groaned Charles, visibly suppressing a shudder.

Edwin’s own face tensed for a moment before he continued.

“And I’m sure we are all familiar with the memory of the Cat King’s bracelet.”

“Oh, definitely,” said Crystal. “Wait a second, you think this is similar?”

Edwin nodded, “the case the katana was in bore some characters that I suspect were in actuality, runes. They looked quite different from those on the bracelet, but I suspect the effect is the same. The ghost is bound to the case, and can’t stray too far from it.”

“And how did you know your theory was correct? ” challenged Crystal.

Edwin looked outwardly unfazed, back straight, hands clasped behind his back, but Charles knew that they were grasping each other more tightly than usual. 

“Honestly, it was more of a hunch, but the deaths only occurred at one destination at a time, so I thought it was likely but couldn’t be sure. It was either that, or it would have chased us back here. ”

“Like the WWI soldier with the mask,” murmured Charles.

“Exactly. I didn’t have time to try and test this theory, or even come up with an admittedly better plan than retreat, but seeing as we, especially Crystal here, are not currently being diced to pieces. I’m willing to bet that my theory is, to some degree, correct.”

“Well,” started Crystal, straightening from where she’d been leaning on the wall, “at least that significantly limits the area we need to cover to find and deal with this ninja warrior.”

“And confirms the article that needs to be dealt with,” added Edwin. 

“Aces, shall we get started then? I’m going to need to reinforce my spare cricket bats. The wicked bastard snapped mine like a twig!”

“And we best prepare additional counter curses. As we weren’t able to make sure there were other magical items before we had to flee.”

“On it.”

Chapter Text

Their plan was relatively straightforward, now that they knew what to expect. Destroy the case, send the warrior to his afterlife and make sure that the property was clear of any potential curses. Arriving at night could leave them with a deadly disadvantage in the dark, so they chose to arrive in the morning.

They had discussed the details on the train, having reasoned that human travel would be better in this instance.

“We’ll have to arrive at the same time in order to retain some element of surprise,” explained Edwin. 

“Right, speed is of the essence this time. The ghost had probably known of our arrival when we hopped through and stalked us into the house. He’ll act a lot quicker this time once he realises our goal, so we’ll have to be faster.”

Crystal agreed, before pointing out the elephant in the room. 

“How do we plan to destroy the case?”

“Well, the case is wood, so good old fashioned fire should do the trick.”

“Yes, it should. Do make sure you haven’t forgotten the fire spell this time, Charles.”

Anyone might have seen it as a jibe, and indeed it was, but Charles had long known his best mate long enough to know he was mostly teasing. He reassured him, patting his bag,   “Relax, Eds, kept it in here since last time.”

The older ghost’s shoulders relaxed a little in response, “Good.”

“So what do I do?” piped Crystal, fingers curled around the headphone cord as though she was in conversation with someone on her phone.

“You, Crystal, will be our back up.”

“What? Edwin, come on! What did I do?”

A few of the other passengers flared back at her at her outburst.

She glared back.

“Nothing, Crystal. This is by no means an insult to your abilities,” conciliated Edwin, “but the ghost is a master of combat and disguise.”

“He’s silent, deadly and wickedly fast,” added Charles.

“Yes. The case is also the forest which he will surely use to his advantage. I need to focus completely on the spell or I will have to start over again and, I doubt I will have that chance if I am interrupted. Additionally, I would rather have two sets of eyes on the lookout than one, and we’ll need you to hold him off with Charles if necessary.”

 The psychic huffed, but conceded.

“Fine.”

-+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+—+-

As they neared the forest, they all kept their ears and eyes peeled, silently looking for any sign of the swordsman. Despite it being midday the forest was still shrouded in shadow like a heavy veil and they didn’t know if the cause was natural or supernatural. And the further they got into the forest, the darker it seemed to be. Every stir of shadow from the trees or some woodland creature looked like someone ducking behind a tree. Every whistle of wind sounded like a ninja star hurling through the air. Edwin cursed internally every time Crystal stepped on a twig on the forest floor. The girl herself was equipped with several enchanted smoke bombs that would release irritating smoke that would briefly incapacitate the supernatural. The girl had also concealed in her sleeve a small pistol loaded with blanks that could hopefully act as a distraction. 

Somehow, they reached the case without incident. 

But it wouldn’t remain so for long, because when did it ever? 

Mere seconds had passed before Crystal gave a cry and Charles whirled around to see the warrior dropping to the ground like a shroud only a few paces from them, the katana in their hand a bolt of lightning against the stormy sky. 

Charles met the entity head on with his bat, the magically reinforced wood splintering as it met iron but holding. He almost lost his footing though, when the metal blade disappeared and was replaced by a pair of swinging nunchucks aimed for his head.

“Guys! He’s got more weapons up his sleeves!”

Throughout the commotion, Edwin heard the warning, but forced his eyes to stay focused on the case, his lips spelling out the incantation necessary to reduce the case to ashes. 

But when he heard a loud thud and Charles cry out in pain, his gaze snapped up against his better judgement. 

And saw his bel- best friend crashing to the ground in a heap, the spell on his tongue forgotten in favour of—

“Charles!”

For a second, visions of Niko, sweet, caring Niko, flashed before his eyes, her white clothes stained with blooming crimson Sakura. The light in her twinkling eyes gone while all he could do was scream. 

Then the vision faded like a light as he heard the swing of metal, and before he could even register what he was doing, his hands closed around the handle of the antique katana, and swung it upwards with enough force to make it sing its reply to its deadly companion.

And the song of another sword answered back. 

The ninja, seeing the now armed Edwardian boy as the greater threat compared to the unconscious one, twisted and lunged towards Edwin, hand once again wielding the lethal blade.

Edwin liked to think that he was a decent swordsman. After all, fencing was the one sport he seemed to be good at, much to the surprise and delight of himself and his parents. And though he didn’t have much opportunity to practise as the world was busy dealing with a global war, he had had to take to some blade or another for protection in hell. He’d died more times than he could count, but he still learnt. 

The warrior however, seemed to rival even the most ferocious of hell’s demons, each blow coming quick as a beam of light and with the force of a tank. Edwin managed to not jump at the sound of the gunshot but his opponent was completely undeterred, as if the sound had been nothing but birdsong, and was rewarded as bits of hair from above Edwin’s ear was shorn cleaning off. Soon, Edwin was less focused on disarming the ghost and more focused on dodging the slashes and stabs of a blade that came almost faster than his eyes could see, and even they seemed to be failing him, as they grew hazy and his non-corporeal lungs stung as if filled with smoke. 

He felt his panic rising before he remembered. 

Crystal.

He allowed himself a moment to expel the smoke out of his form in wracking coughs. Despite the unpleasant sensation, he was flooded with relief. If the smoke was having such an impact on him, then surely the ninja would have been incapacitated as well. 

Then his eyes became hazy for another reason.

In the swirling, blurring greens and browns, the blade embedded hilt deep in his side stood out like a paintbrush amongst watercolour, blood he shouldn’t be able to have already trickling down the metal and pooling around the edges. 

He didn’t hear Crystal’s screams or Charles shrieking his name as the day bled into night. 

Chapter Text

For the briefest second, Charles forgot that he was dead. 

Between attending raves that overflowed with alcohol and his father being too enthusiastic with his belt, he was not unfamiliar with waking up with a pounding head.

Then the second passed, and he registered the sticks and leaves he was laying in, the sting of smoke in his eyes and the clangs of metal against metal, and he remembered where he was.

Shit.

The memory was enough to jolt him to full consciousness, and he struggled upright against the lingering heaviness of ghostly limbs and his discomfort, once again reaching for his bat.

He’d only just managed to blink away the blurriness in his vision when he looked up and saw the katana plunge into Edwin’s side.

And out his back.

Crystal was screaming.

And so was he, with a wail so raw and so foreign from his throat at the red soaking into cloth that his brain, shuttering in horror, whispered “banshee” before it shut off altogether.

 The only thing he could think was that Edwin had been stabbed.

Edwin’s been stabbed.

Edwin’s been stabbed.

No.

He wasn’t just stabbed, he’d been impaled.

He charged with another scream, this time it was one of rage, once again earning them the attention of their foe, who conjured another blade with a flick of the hand and charged back. But before either of them could raise their weapons to strike, the warrior vanished. 

There, then not.

Charles skidded to a halt, his eyes whipping around, no longer wide in rage but surprise, wondering if this was another deadly trick. 

But the ninja was nowhere in sight. 

Instead, stood a few paces away from him, was Crystal.

Crystal with tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes white and gleaming as pearls.

She stood still, her arms hanging stiffly at her sides, her entire body was trembling from strain, and he realised what she’d done even before she managed to call to him with quivering lips and a shaking voice.

“Ch-Cha-Charles, I-I’ve got him h-handled. You t-take ca-care of E-Ed-Edwin.”

“Crystal—”

“Hurry!”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Edwin was whimpering when Charles dropped to his knees beside him, the older ghost propped up by the blade skewered through him like a kebab. 

Charles could have sworn he felt bile creep up his throat at the sight.  

“C-Charles,” Edwin whimpered, and that snapped him out of it.

The younger ghost gently cupped his face in his hands, trying to ignore how clammy it felt, or how grey the Edwardian’s skin already was. He looked like death. 

“H-Hey m-mate.” Get your shit together, Rowland! He gulped “You’re gonna be fine, alright? I’ll get the sword out and you’ll be right as rain in no time, okay?”

“C-Charles, t-the case……”

Because of course Edwin would be more concerned with their job than the fact that he was bleeding profusely. 

“It can wait, let’s take care of you first.”

“I’m—I’m fine,” Edwin gasped out, even as his face contorted in pain. “I-I-I’ve been through worse in H-h-hell.”

As if seeing his best friend like this wasn’t already enough to shatter Charles’s heart completely.

“You’re not in hell anymore, mate. If something happens to you now……”

He couldn’t think of that right now. Seeing Edwin be ripped limb from limb was horrific, but at least he came back in one piece. Here…… 

Banish the thought. 

“I’ll make it quick, yeah? Then you can be back to your fit self and we deal with the case together in no time. On three.”

He made to grab hold of the handle.

“One—“

“Charles, no.”

“Edwin, for Pete’s sake—“

“T-The sword handle is i-i-iron,” Edwin groaned.

Oh.

“R-Right.”

He plunged his hand into his bag, looking for something he could use to wrap around the metal. It came free with an old handkerchief that he quickly folded the handle into. 

Focus, Rowland.

It was never something he was good at, alive or dead, but he had to try. 

His hands closed around the handle.

“One.”

His grip tightened around the protective cloth barrier. 

“Two.”

He yanked in the blade before he got to three. 

He did it as quickly as he could, trying to pull the blade free in one swift motion, hoping that doing so before he finished the countdown would give him enough of an element of surprise to dim the pain. 

But the katana had other ideas. 

The damned thing was long and it dragged, and Charles thought that hearing Edwin’s muffled screams against his jacket deserved to be its own ring in Hell. 

It felt like it took forever, but soon enough he was able to toss the bloodied katana to the side and cradle his friend in his lap, watching to make sure the wound would start knitting itself back together. 

Yet the bleeding didn’t stop.

It only got worse.

Heart in his throat, he pressed his hand against the wound to stop the flow, and felt blood seeping warm and red through his fingers.

“Crystal! Crystal! ” 

“A l-little b-b-busy here, Ch-Charles!” 

Shit shit shit shit shit.

“C-Charles……” Edwin rasped from his place in Charles’s lap, “the c-case.”

“Edwin,” he pleaded, “we’ll deal with that later.”

“No!” The other ghost gritted out, shivering impossibly now from the blood lost but still fighting to put his foot down. “Its a-a t-teth-tether. I-I ha-have t-t-to b-b-b-bur-burn i-it.”

“Edwin you’re in no shape to. Let me.” 

“Lemme…try, Charles.”

And dammit, when was he ever able to refuse him? 

Edwin’s hand slumped onto the wooden lid, his eyes screwed tight in focus and pain as he more slurred than uttered the spell. It sounded beyond recognition, and it took everything in Charles to keep him upright rather than insisting that he take over and break Edwin’s focus. Took everything in him to focus on keeping him upright and not on the blood soaking through his clothes, rapidly turning the brown to black and spreading like the charred remains of a wildfire. Charles could not let his concerns render the efforts of the other ghost futile. He couldn’t. 

He had already failed him once today.

The spell, he knew, was already a long one. Fire magic was finicky and fickle. It took skill and no small amount of power and concentration to summon. 

Then, finally, a spark burst to life in the centre of the wood. It was so small, so unlike the determined kick of fire that usually sprung up, that Charles was terrified it’d burn itself out before it could do anything. His hands on Edwin’s cheek twitched for a moment as if to shield the lick of fire from the almost nonexistent wind, but suddenly it took to the wood, and within moments it grew as of it were lit on an oil spill and encased the case in an inferno that swallowed the wood down to the last splinter, leaving no evidence that it ever existed save for the charred spot amongst the leaves and sticks. 

Edwin’s slumped against him completely, a limp bloodied rag, and Charles would have descended completely into panic were it not for the flow of the blood finally, finally stopping under his fingers, of the older ghost’s eyes no longer clenched in pain. 

He was unconscious, and yeah, that wasn’t aces, but it’s miles better than blood gushing from a stab wound. 

The relief was so strong that his lips pressed against Edwin’s hair before his mind could convince him otherwise, and when it did he’s mortified enough to be relieved that he couldn't blush. 

Edwin didn’t even stir, thankfully.

Charles did startle, however, when Crystal suddenly jerked backwards with a cry, and the black form of the warrior leapt from within her and sent her backwards into the dirt.

He lunged for his bat, placing himself between the threat and his best mate as he had done so a million times before, and braced to attack. 

But the warrior just stood there, his katana hanging loose in his hand. He just stood there, gazing passively at the younger ghost, before he sheathed his blade and leapt into the shadows of the canopy and disappeared.

Charles whipped around, looking for signs of another ambush. Surely he wouldn’t have surrendered, just like that. But only shadows and light and leaves fell around them. It was just them three again, alone in the dark woods. 

Him standing, with his two friends on the ground, one struggling upright, one still lying with his face cushioned in fallen leaves. 

When the blue light came and broke through the canopy like a scene from an extraterrestrial kidnapping, Crystal ducked behind a tree, and Charles scrambled to collect Edwin in his arms and make a dash for the safety of his pack.

They’d received a pardon. They were free. But did the conditions apply when one had just suffered a wound that would likely have been fatal had they been alive? 

He didn’t want to know. 

But just as quickly as the ninja that had melded into the shadows, the light disappeared as quickly as it came.

And the trees around them were dark and silent, with only the twittering birdsong as background noise.

That was good, absolute silence was suspicious, meant that something was still lurking and driving the animals away. 

He did not jump a little when Crystal appeared by his side.

How had he not heard her? He must have been really out of it. 

But anyone would have had to be blind to not see the concern knitted in her brow as she gazed at the still form in his arms. 

It’s brills, ain’t it? How far they’ve come since they first met. 

He loved them both for it. 

“Holy shit……” she breathed, met only now with the sheer severity of the wound, the blood soaked clothes “……is he?”

“Yeah, Crys. Or at least he will be. We’ll catch you back at the office, yeah?”

“You want me to grab the mirror?” she offered.

He shook his head no. Crystal had taken to carrying a small mirror with her that they could use for emergency escapes, but to manipulate their forms into something small enough required more effort than both of them could give at that moment.

She nodded, and he turned towards the house, navigating the rooms until he found a mirror that was large enough for them to comfortably travel through. 

Then he pressed his lips and a reassurance to Edwin’s temple and leapt through. 

Chapter Text

Just a very quick pop in to say that I PROMISE THIS NEXT CHAPTER IS CURRENTLY IN THE WORKS. This story is  NOT being abandoned and should be ready in the next couple of weeks. I know it’s been literal MONTHS but I promise I will NOT be leaving y’all hanging! You’ve all been lovely and I hope the final chapter justifies the wait 😅😅😅.

Chapter Text

Edwin was still unconscious by the time Crystal made it back to the office. 

He barely stirred when she recalled her perspective of the afternoon.

He remained so even after she had gone home for the night. 

At least the day made a little more sense to him now. 

Or at least, he thought it did. He hadn’t really been listening, but heard enough to piece it together. Sort of anyways, he could just about make out the situation with Crystal’s mind…palace, or whatever it was, just as well as he could that very morning.

From what he could understand, though, it was just like with the WWI soldier all over again. 

Crystal had managed to wrestle the warrior into her mind-palace and there, a symbol revealed itself on the mask interwoven against the black in glowing gold threads that was not unlike Edwin’s binding spells. 

Then, something, something she had her ancestors grab him as she tore it off. 

This was the real interesting bit, because as she did so, she saw what he did. 

Not the house and forest in the middle of nowhere of the modern day, but rather, feudal Japan. And with that, threats, spies and enemies of the state. 

“But how did he know we were enemies?” Charles had asked. 

“It was like in a dream, like you know how time and everything else just makes no sense but still does in a way and you just have to roll with it? That’s what it was like for him that whole time. He just thought that he was still in enemy territory. From what I could see, he kept getting order after order to guard and protect something but couldn’t remember what, only that it was critically important and there were people trying to take it and he had to stop them. He must have been trapped like that for ages.”

Literally.

“How is he? Any better?” 

“Blood’s gone but,” he drew a breath, his attempt at keeping things purely clinical failing rapidly, “apart from that nothing’s changed.”

He was sitting on a proper chair he’d pulled up next to the makeshift bed, rather than perched on his usual place on the arms of the sofa. His eyes were trained to his feet, his thumb delicately tracing the hand loosely wrapped in his own. 

His eyes were shining, liquid ink when he finally looked back at her. 

“I can’t lose him, Crystal.”

“Hey, hey.” She grasped him by the shoulders, her dark eyes bearing into his own. “Do not go there,” she told him firmly, “you hear me? He’s not better but he’s also not worse, okay?”

Charles shook his head helplessly. 

“I’ve never seen him down for so long, Crys. What if he just… doesn’t ?”

Crystal very much determinedly ignored the crack in his voice and the thought of losing another friend. 

They couldn’t afford to have the both of them fall apart at the same time.  

“Then we’ll figure out how to get him back, alright?” She said as evenly as she could. “I’ll be back by tomorrow, and he’ll either be back on his feet or we’ll search through those fancy books of his until we find something. Heck, maybe he’ll just spring awake the second we start making a mess of things.” 

She was slightly relieved by the amused tick on the corner of his lips at the joke, his fondness for the other ghost’s fastidiousness poorly hidden as always. 

“He might just do that.”

“Tomorrow, okay? I’m bloody exhausted.”

He nodded, his lips pulling further into a smile that they both knew was bullshit.  

“Night Crys.”

“See you later, Charles. Edwin.” She nodded perfunctorily at the prone figure and left.

Edwin remained as deathly still as he’d been for the last several hours. 

It wasn’t until nearly midnight that Charles caught any movement from his friend. 

His hand was cupped against his cheek at the first unconscious groans. 

“Hey, hey, Eds? You with me?”

He thanked every supernatural entity he could think of when he saw those green eyes again, confused and unfocused though they may be.

“Charles… what?”

He startled as they snapped open and Edwin bolted upright, hands scrambling at his shirt.

“Bloody hell, mate! Take it easy!”

Then his mind caught up to what he’s seeing and he looked away, because Jesus, give a guy a warning, there was a strip of torso where Edwin’s managed to tug his shirt free from his trousers. 

Only his body was never good at following rationale and his eyes drifted to that treacherous bit of skin. And then he’s staring for very different reasons. 

Where there should have been perfectly smooth skin was a scar. About an inch and a half wide. Pink, raised, marring and a little jagged around the edges. Looking years old despite it being less than a day since its acquisition. 

Gingerly, Edwin touched his back, and Charles knew there’d be a twin scar there too. 

His voice was dull when he asked, “does it hurt?”

“No,” Edwin shook his head, his eyes weary and tired, “it’s just rather…… peculiar.”

Charles knew that tone of voice with the nostalgic intimacy of a childhood memory. Hell, it was a childhood memory. Mum used to use the same tone after Dad passed out, when he was young enough that the bruises might have been hidden. She’d stopped trying as he’d gotten older. 

Now that tone was in Edwin’s voice, and the guilt that threatened to crush him then crushed him now. 

“I am so sorry, mate.” He breathed, shaking his head as Edwin’s lips parted in protest. “No, Edwin, no. I should have been there. You would have been fine if I hadn’t gone and got myself knocked out like an idio—”

“It’s hardly fair to the both of us that you shoulder the blame and you know it! You and I both know that the only reason you were rendered out of commission is because—“ 

“I should have been able to hold him off! It’s what I do!”

“And I should have taken those self defense lessons like you’ve been vying for me to do for ages!”

Edwin turned away from Charles then with a huff of frustration, then directed his eyes back at him, his eyes bright with their usual focus, but not their usual intensity. 

They softened further as he asked, “this isn’t all there is to it, is there?” 

It was more of a statement than it was a question.

“Charles, talk to me. Please.”

And really, what was there to say? 

“It’s the second time in as many months mate. The last time got you tortured and… and N…”

Oh. 

Oh.

A laugh hissed out of him, tethering onto hysterical before diving straight in. 

His fingers dug into his curls as he doubled over, his chest quaking, each breath in a higher pitch than the last. Charles couldn’t believe he didn’t clock it sooner.

“I know what it's like now, don’t I?” he grits out, a keening sound escaping from between his teeth.  “I know what it’s like watching your mate get their chest sliced open.”

Then his hands are on his face and he’s quaking for a very different, yet still painfully similar reason. 

It was like the aftermath of dealing with Angie all over again, Charles doubled over in his distress and an echoing anguish rattling in Edwin’s own chest. He remembers all too vividly, himself pathetically telling the other boy that it’s going to be okay when he was still so oblivious to his torment. That he didn’t understand, and even now he still can’t understand fully all that which torments the boy he loves so very much. 

But this grief, he understands all too well. He’d been hopeless to comfort Charles, and helpless to save Niko, but he'd be damned, and rightfully so this time, if he couldn’t be there for him now. 

He flung his arms around the other boy’s shoulders, something in him singing from among his sorrow as Charles accepted the embrace rather than push him away. 

Charles clung to him, the back of Edwin’s shirt squeezing out from between his fingers, his full-bodied sobs convulsing his form. Edwin pushed aside the sensation of tears soaking into his shoulder and held on just as tightly, one hand in Charles’s curls, the other arm wrapper securely around his waist, whispering words low and soothing as the other boy wrung himself out, trying to ignore how the words came out choked and thick, the burning behind his own eyes. 

Chapter Text

Edwin didn’t know how long they remained in that state, but at some point, be it after minutes or after hours, they found themselves lying on the couch, arms still locked around each other, Edwin’s head effectively nestled against Charles’s collarbone. The younger ghost’s tears had finally ebbed, but he had very much wrung himself out as well, and it was only by the lack of slack in the grip on his torso, as though he was liable to float away or be snatched from him, that Edwin knew that he hadn’t drifted off to somewhere he couldn’t reach him. 

Or had he? 

“Charles?” he started tentatively, trying to meet the other’s eyes, which bore into the ceiling above them. They flickered to him and away again, and something in Edwin twisted and crumbled at the glimpse of red-ringed eyes, cracks in a vase that threatened to overflow once again. 

He felt the movement through his cheek as Charles swallowed, his voice hoarse as he croaked, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Edwin gently freed his hand from where it had been pinned between the couch and Charles’s coat and grazed his shoulder, before reaching further up to brush away the stray tear that had escaped. 

“Charles,” he breathed, loud in the utter silence that encompassed them, his thumb tracing Charles’s cheekbone, “you literally walked through hell to get me back, and I’ve already promised you that I would not let Death separate us even if she tried. You’re not losing me so easily.”

He felt the arms around him tighten even further and heard Charles sigh, Edwin swallowing his own. They need to be better at talking about this kind of stuff, but he also knows that forcing either of them to talk before they’re ready would—

His mind stuttered to a halt as he felt lips press against his hair. 

Did—did Charles just kiss him? 

Thankfully, he did not vocalise his surprise. Thank you very much.

“Shit, sorry.”  

Fuck. 

Charles stumbled on with his apologies, oblivious to Edwin’s mortified turmoil. 

“God that was stupid mate, I’m so sorry.” 

To Edwin’s dismay, he felt the arms around him pulling away and scrambled for purchase, succeeding in pulling them both upright by the hands. 

“Was that a first time thing or—?”

“…I mean.”

“You’ve done it before? When?”

Surely he would have remembered something so……phenomenal.

“Uh yeah… twice, actually.”

“Twice?” he squeaked.

“This morning really, when-when I finally got the bleeding to stop and then again before I mirror hopped us back home.”

His response was far less eloquent than he would have liked. “—Why?” 

“Because I … love you.” 

And just like that, Charles watched as Edwin’s expression fell from something cautiously hopeful into a slate of carefully neutral. 

The Edwardian is silent, no doubt thinking of The Staircase again. Charles knew he was. 

When his best friend, stripped bare as he was already, chose to strip himself down further and bare his heart to him. 

When he replied, saying that he wasn’t in love with him back.

When he said that he would figure it out.

And he hasn’t really done that yet, has he?

Or has he? 

There was a reason a hug from Edwin would leave him clutching his chest when fond embraces from Crystal or Niko didn’t. There was a reason Niko’s death left him devastated but the mere thought of losing Edwin left him feeling like it was himself being torn apart. There was a reason why pressing his lips to Edwin felt easier than, well, breathing. There was a reason being dead with Edwin made him come alive. 

Funny, how obvious it all was in hindsight. What he and Edwin shared was one of a kind and monumental and yet so, so, achingly simple. Edwin figured it out first, it just took Charles a little longer to connect the dots.

Charles chuckled weakly, “Edwin…I’m in love with you.”

“Charles…” 

“No. No, I think I’ve figured it out, Eds, really,” he pushed forward steadfastly, palms on the other’s sloping shoulders. Gorgeous green eyes met his own, bright and dewy, stained glass windows into that beautiful soul of his. Mesmerising as always. “I think I’ve always known. Think I might have known that for as long as I’ve known you’re smart as heck. Never felt the way I do with you with anyone else, have I? Never been more terrified of losing anyone than I’ve been at the possibility of losing you.”

He huffed self-deprecatingly.

“Of course, it took that for it to click for me.”

Edwin feels his form release an unnecessary breath. This was real, wasn’t it? 

“T-to your credit, I didn’t figure it out myself, took Monty, the Cat King and… and Niko, literally spelling out that it was an option before I realised that what I felt for you was anything but platonic.”

The fluttering in his gut rose up his throat, bubbling out of him in giddy laughter. Charles caught the spell too and both boys chortled with glee until they were weak and breathless with it.

“We’re both idiots,” Charles wheezed.

“Idiots,” Edwin corrected fondly, pressing their palms together and interweaving their fingers, “in love, I believe the saying goes.”

Charles’s face was a thing of awe and wonder when he lifted it up again. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Say it again, Edwin?” 

“… I’m… in love… with you, Charles Rowland.”

It left him breathless, just like the last time he took a leap in uttering the words out loud. They hung in the air, where a rejection would have left him tumbling. Charles caught the thread last time, not leaving him to fall. 

And this time, he threw out a line of his own. 

“I’m in love with you too, Edwin Payne.”

Had been for the better part of four decades. 

Longer than they’d ever been alive. 

Time to make up for lost time. 

“Can I try something?”

Edwin nodded, ready and trusting, and Charles cupped his face in the palms of his hands. Edwin glimpsed the hesitation in Charles’s eyes as he searched for signs of any in his own. Finding none, Charles tilted Edwin’s face down to press his lips to his temple. 

It was longer than the last one, the movement sure and natural now that Charles is certain that it was something he was allowed. It was tender enough to steal the air from his lungs, the air escaping in a rattling gasp. Still, it lasted only a few seconds, and he mourned the loss of warmth above his brow. 

Only for it to bloom on his left cheek, then his right, each kiss longer than the last. If he had any blood left in his skull after that confession, it drained away from the first peck and flooded to his face, right to the cheekbones his partner had pressed his lips to. 

It was only after Charles pulled away that Edwin realised that his eyes had closed under the sensations, and when he blinked them open, Charles’s eyes were as bright as he knew his own to be. 

“Shall I continue?” Charles asked.

“Do you mean to tell me there’s more?” he replied weakly. He was reminded faintly of how movement is described in dreams, when they come out slow and sluggish even when one wants to run. He can’t remember the last time he dreamed. He isn’t sure he isn’t dreaming now. 

Charles seemed to take his slowness to respond as hesitation. 

“O-only if you’re okay with it?”

And that certainly wouldn’t do, now would it? Just like that, his voice returned to him. 

“Please,” he insisted, “go on.” 

He knew that look on Charles’s face, even if he had last seen it on a different one under very different circumstances. So when Charles leaned forwards, he met him halfway. 

For a time after that night with the forest and the swing set, a small part of Edwin was quite…  indignant that his first kiss would be taken from him. In the midst of everything that followed, it had been lost and forgotten. 

For the split second after Charles’s lips pressed to his, that buried anger bobbed back to the surface, because Charles was meant to be the one to claim his first kiss, because this was how it was meant to be.  But now, Edwin found that that memory had its uses. 

Had Monty not kissed him that night, he wouldn’t have known what a kiss felt like from someone whose affection he did not reciprocate. It left him off kilter, it felt wrong, even if he wasn’t quite able to give a reason then. And that comparison made this one all the sweeter. It also didn’t hurt to have experience, as lacking as it might have been. 

They fell back onto the sofa, Charles sharing his eagerness, his palms migrating from his face to press against his back; Edwin’s own fingers buried themselves in those lovely curls. And the whole thing just feels so, so right. 

The candlelight of affection and love he holds for this boy, which he had always been so careful to contain in a votive lest it spreads out of his control, finally meets kindling, and warmth suffuses his entire being. He’s lightheaded, he’s weak, he’s positively giddy with joy. 

So both he and Charles are certainly startled when, as they pull away, Edwin suddenly finds himself choking down a sob.

He realises why in a moment, but damn himself for ruining this moment. Curse himself for the way joy slips off Charles face and is replaced by worry.

“Shit, your stab wounds. Edwin, did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. It’s nothing, just…” He shook his head plaintively, “she would have been… delighted by this development.” 

He didn’t need to specify who “she” was. 

The worry sieved out of Charles’s features, leaving only the mirroring grief in his eyes. “Definitely ecstatic,” Charles sighed, tucking Edwin’s face back to his neck, letting him ride it out. Secure in the arms of his beloved, Edwin welcomes the burst of memories of the girl who was joy and bravery and light and love in human form, her white hair brighter than the sun and her heart ten times warmer. 

Her heart slashed in her own chest as she tried to shield Crystal from the blow. 

Since that dreadful day, he’d processed it as he did his time in Hell. Distantly, clinically. Now, his heart roared to be heard and he obliged it, wailing with the force of it. Most living humans couldn’t hear them, but he hoped someone would and feel pain for what was lost. What he lost to the whims of his own peers, what Charles lost seven decades later in the same damn place to…

And just like that his tears ceased from a tidal wave to a stream. 

All this time, and he never knew the details of Charles’s own death. All this time, Charles never wanted to talk about it and he never cared enough to push, all while Charles knew every detail long ago. 

Speaking of Charles. “Feeling better now?” he asked with gentle, calloused thumbs catching lingering dampness. So wonderfully selfless as always. Edwin loves him so. 

And to think he’d been so selfish for so long. 

It’s not a competition, mate! 

“We should talk about it sometime… about everything. With Crystal too, if she’s amenable.”

Charles had stiffened for a moment, fidgeting with a loose thread from his coat. Then he smiled, not his I’m-feeling-like-shit-but-you-don’t-need-to-know-that smile that he wore too often during their time together, but one of weary acceptance. 

“Probably for the best, innit?” he conceded, reaching out for his hand again. Edwin took it and used it to pull him close, tucking Charles’s head onto his shoulder and pressing his lips to his crown, marvelling in the breathy laugh that escapes him, the softness in his gaze, that toothy grin of pure unbridled love and joy.

So much still unsaid, so many wounds that never had a chance to scar, and so many scars that healed wrong. But they had time to deal with that. They had all the time in the world. Come what may. They’d get through it together.

“I love you, Edwin.” 

“And I you, Charles.”