Closure (Mystery Skulls; M) [Co-written with Garnet!] 4/5

[Spoo]

I realize that I have an unfinished Mystery Skulls story already on the board (along with countless other ones from different fandoms, whOOPS) but after reading through this angsty little gem again, I felt that it deserved to be shared with fellow MS fans~

Just a note: This originally started as something I was writing by myself, but then I felt like it would be better to drag ask Garnet if she'd be interested in writing the rest with me! She obliged, and together we ruined Arthur's life. Erm...I mean, we worked on giving Arthur and Lewis some closure. It's an honest-to-God tragedy what happened between these two so we tried patching things up as realistically as we could.

There's uh...not a whole lot of sneezing going on?? I mean, there is (if you count fits) but it's not the central focus of the story. Hopefully the interaction between characters will make up for it (and speaking of interaction, this was originally written in roleplay format and I tried my best to edit it into something more fic-like; if it reads choppy and broken up in places, my bad! )

Last but not least, Garnet wrote for Lewis and I wrote for Arthur. I hope you guys enjoy!

Closure

Part 1

by Garnet and Spoo

Arthur jolted awake with a choking gasp that instantly transitioned into a ruthless coughing fit. He muffled the brunt of the attack into his hands, his narrow shoulders hunched and trembling from the effort of containment. He managed to stop a few seconds later, though he remained bent at the waist, wheezing, as he desperately tried to get a hold of himself.

The remnants of his lime green nightmare were stained on the insides of his eyelids, which explained why he refrained from closing his eyes any more than a blink.

As he was lowering his hands, he couldn't help but notice that his prosthetic arm felt blessedly cool against his overly warm features; it encouraged him to press his metal palm across the heated expanse of his forehead. Maybe he had a fever? Yeah…sure seemed like it. Shivering, he glanced at the foot of his bed, where Mystery lay awake, watching him with what Arthur identified as unease.

"M'fine," he croaked, in spite of sounding the exact opposite. "Just had a bad dream." His voice was hoarse and airy, and it crackled with the sickly goo that was chilling in his bronchial tubes. Ugh. "Probably need some water or something…"

The pit of his stomach grew incredibly cold as he processed what his statement meant: In order to get water, he'd have to get up, leave the room, venture down the long (sometimes endless??) hallway, and go into the kitchen. That wouldn't have been a problem if he were in a hotel or another lodging accommodation. But…well, being in a haunted mansion made everything a liiiiiittle more complicated.

Actually, no. Who was he kidding? It made things HUGELY complicated.

Swallowing down a groan (which wasn't easy when your throat felt like it had been whittled with a sandpaper knife) Arthur slowly got out of bed and stood on his feet. He tried not to sway as he established a sense of balance and leaned down to reach for his white t-shirt, which laid on the floor in a crumpled heap.

As tempting as it was to wake Vivi - you know, for support and all - he felt that he'd done that enough over the past week. There was only so many times he could disturb her sleep, orrrr crawl into bed with her when his anxiety coaxed him to do more than just shuffle from foot to foot outside her door. Besides, it was suuuuper lame of him to need an escort to go into the kitchen while he retrieved a glass of water.

After he slipped on his shirt, Arthur woozily left the room while hoping and praying that he wouldn't run into anyone, or anything, on his way.

He'd started to feel a bit under the weather the day before yesterday, though he hadn't made a big deal about it (mostly because no one around him was unwell, and he hadn't "caught" it from anyone). If anything, his illness was attributed to the fact that he'd been under a lot of stress lately (more than his usual amount of stress, anyway).

Combine that with not eating much, not sleeping right, AND the little stunt he'd pulled a few nights back, when he'd bolted out of the house and straight into a storm… Yeah, he had more or less asked for a oneway ticket to ChestColdville. Ugh.

No one had noticed yet (thankfully) and he honestly didn't expect his friends to bat an eyelash at his sorry self. Everyone was sort of dealing with their own issues at the moment and wasn't too aware of what went on outside of their distracted musings. Including Arthur.

B-because hey, you know, it wasn't every day that someone stupidly close to you came back from the grave in the form of a terrifying skeleton-ghost-monster and wanted you just as dead as him, but then was strangely cool once you explained that you were possessed at the time and totally didn't mean to push him off a cliff and prematurely end his life?? Yeah…something like that. Yeesh.

A collective mantra of judgmental whispers abruptly surrounded Arthur as he nervously walked down the hallway; he kept his eyes focused on the ground and away from the portraits that hung on either side of him, watching him with eyes that moved and mouths that smirked. Jeez, if it wasn't the portraits it was the--

"…Ghn!"

The sound of strangled surprise left Arthur's mouth as a zigzag of neon pink shot over his foot. His heart pounded in sync with his head, which left him massaging his throbbing temples and struggling to see through the hazy fog of his fever. A few more of the sprites materialized and followed the first one, and then they were gone…as if they'd never appeared in the first place.

Arthur suppressed another chesty cough in the bend of his elbow ('Repulsive', an elegant woman's portrait hissed, cringing away from him) and then self-consciously shrunk towards the center of the hallway, rather than the left side he'd been dizzily coasting. But he supposed that didn't matter because, after what felt like eons of aimless wandering, he finally reached the kitchen.

He was beyond grateful that the rooms hadn't switched on him (he walked into the bathroom earlier and ended up in the library) since physical energy wasn't something he had a bountiful amount of at present. Arthur had already exhausted a great deal of endurance just by dragging himself out of bed in the first place.

He sniffled and then pawed at his runny-stuffy nose as he opened a cabinet to retrieve a glass. As hesitant and terrified as he was staying in the home of his dead (ex?) best friend, he'd gotten a bit more comfortable when it came to retrieving basic necessities. Um, like water. Eating the food Lewis provided was a significantly harder feat (because how could a ghost conjure edible food???).

Having expected the glass retrieval to be a simple task, it was no surprise when Arthur yelped as yet another pink spook popped out from the cabinet itself, startling him so violently he dropped the glass altogether; it collided with the floor and exploded into a dozen crystalline shards that scattered across the checkered linoleum.

It was probably the fever, or maybe the fact that he'd been scared to death for the twentieth time that day, but regardless of the true reason Arthur's eyes welled with a hot screen of tears. He ignored his swimming vision, jackhammering head, and hurting chest to bend down and start collecting the glass.

There were no leering, snickering portraits in the kitchen to mock the feverish and the broken as he blearily corralled the shattered tumbler. Even the omnipresent little wisps that always seemed to pop out at the least opportune moments had fled into hiding, like pets content to cause mischief until something loud and punishable got broken.

Their instincts weren't wrong, anyway. The explosive crack and tinkle of glass usually pointed a guilty finger to one of the tiny spooks, a sound familiar enough to make the mansion's owner sigh, but not rare enough that Lewis was surprised. Little monsters.

The quiet, nearly indistinguishable sniveling piqued his attention even before he'd rounded the corner. The dead beats knew better than to stick around for their scolding, but they weren't generally remorseful. It wasn't something he took personally; much like faeries, they were so tiny that they only had room for one emotion at a time, and that emotion was usually PLAY.

Was Vivi awake again?

The resident poltergeist blinked in plain surprise as he traced the tiny noises to the kitchen, and finally got a visual to match. Oh.

"Arthur?"

The layers of echoing recursion in his voice filled the room, neither a boom nor a whisper, but with an otherworldly quality that seemed to naturally arrest attention. Lewis floated cautiously just inside the doorway, a light source unto himself as he regarded his new house guest slash room mate with a tilted head. Over one shoulder, a tiny spook popped up and made a squeaking, chittering sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Ooooh, you're in trouuuuble!

The jagged fragments of glass Arthur had collected fell from his cupped hands as he jerked his torso up from the arch it had formed while picking up the pieces. His leaking eyes were wide as they looked up at Lewis, taking in the horrifying appearance he now sported.

Even though it had been over a week since they'd all been reunited, it was continuously difficult to convince his brain that no, this wasn't a monster. This was someone he knew. This was…a friend. Still, having the skull-faced ghost so close to him when he was already feeling jumpy didn't reassure Arthur in the slightest. If anything, it made him way more nervous and flighty. This really, really wasn't his night.

"Ih-it's cool," he rasped, swiping the inside of his wrist under his nose. Without his usual sweatband there he could feel dampness against his bare skin, courtesy of his dripping nostrils. "I got it, man--just dropped a…um, maybe you should…"

Go back to bed? Not likely. Not when you were a being that didn't sleep, Arthur thought, trembling.

It was the little adjustments that he hadn't really thought about, when Lewis offered up his spectral mansion to his former best friends. Realistically his only friends, now, if one didn't count talking paintings or mischievous sprites. Putting on a more "presentable" and less threatening aura had been one of them. Lewis had to constantly remind himself to soften the natural glare that had become his resting face. As much as his skeletal visage could have a resting expression, anyway.

Arthur, predictably, seemed the most susceptible to unintentional backslides. With this in mind, and gauging by the blonde's look of wide-eyed, teary terror, Lewis touched down slowly, carefully. See? Using gravity, like a completely normal person and not a rage-fueled ghost still harboring some shades of bitterness. Mmmmostly.

"Ah. Don't worry about it. Here..."

He lifted a large hand, as if to reach for Arthur in what was probably a chokehold oh god... Instead, the shattered fragments of the glass gathered themselves off the floor, surrounded by a faint pink aura, and resolved back into their original shape. The glass set itself back on the counter, as if it had never been broken.

No harm, no foul, right?

…No.

BIG harm, BIG foul.

Arthur gathered his still-quivering body off of the cold floor and took a couple of steps away; he scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes to rid them of any remaining wetness, in spite of his emotional state already being blindingly obvious.

Bed. He needed to go back to bed. Problem was, in order to leave the kitchen he'd have to walk past (or around) Lewis, and what was stopping the big guy from reaching out and grabbing him? Strangling him? Possessing him? Sure, that was a paranoid thought and all, but after being pursued and, well, almost murdered by someone he murdered….

"So, uh…thanks. For that," Arthur croaked hoarsely, gesturing at the restored glass. "But hey, I'm not really thirsty anymore, so I think I'll go back to bed. Sorry."

"If you're sure," Lewis agreed slowly.

He didn't quite buy Arthur's dismissal, but neither was he going to argue the point, or call him out. What good would it serve? Interacting with his very much still alive (if with a few missing pieces) best friend was still a touchy subject. Hell, even being in the same room together led to awkward, nervous stretches of silence. Like this one.

The ghost lingered near the doorway, not quite blocking it, but not with a berth wide enough to make Arthur feel comfortable, either. That would probably entail being halfway across the mansion.They'd definitely have to deal with this at some point. Maybe it was still too early.

The tension was still twisting in a weirdly familiar way when Lewis noticed the smaller man rubbing at his eyes and nose blearily.

"You... okay, Arth--... Artie?"

For a single fleeting moment Arthur's expression changed: His apprehension abated and his face arranged itself into what looked like nostalgic familiarity. It was as if Lewis had triggered something within him by using his old nickname - a nickname that sounded most right when spoken in Lewis' deep, masculine timbre.

The abrupt and terrifyingly desperate urge to shoot forward and grab onto the large figure in front of him nearly overpowered Arthur. He wanted to cling to Lewis and complain - tell him how freakin' awful he felt and how difficult the past week had been on his anxiety.

But as he took that first, brave step forward, reality sunk in with the strength of a cast iron anchor.

Whatever semblances of restored friendship he'd felt were ripped away from him, as if they were a rug he'd been standing on. Fear returned as his dominant emotion and had Arthur biting his lip and cowering again; he could feel a cold, clammy sweat breaking out along the back of his too-warm neck.

"I-I'm fine," he choked out, yet the damp coughs that unexpectedly followed counteracted his statement and revealed it for the lie it was.

Arthur lengthened the distance between himself and Lewis as he backpedaled and smothered the harsh expulsions into his hands. Not that stepping away mattered since ghosts couldn't get sick, but it was more for the fact that he did NOT want to be approached. Like, at all.

"Yeah, you sound fine," Lewis returned, sardonic enough to reveal the whetted edge of his frustration.

That was a new development, definitely, due no doubt to years of harbored bitterness. At Arthur, at the world. Even if the focal point of it all had somewhat absolved itself, there was still plenty of unaired emotion that now just turned restlessly in his core. A hand passed over his skeletal face.

"Sorry, I mean... here."

Moving slowly, as if with the care not to startle a wild animal, Lewis drifted in a wide arc around the convulsing blonde, and swept the glass from the countertop without actually touching it. It passed beneath the faucet, which also managed to turn on by itself, although the water that ran clear from it seemed normal enough. The tumbler only made contact with the ghost's palm when it came time to offer it across, still at arm's length.

As Arthur was finally released from the agonizingly exhausting paroxysms, he straightened out with a wheezy sigh and reached up to wipe away the tears the fit had generated. Thaaaat was when he noticed how much closer Lewis was than before. Biting back the harrowing shriek that had already begun rolling up his throat, Arthur forced himself to calm down and accept the drink. Even he couldn't deny needing it after what he'd just been through.

"Th-thanks."

The liquid shook in its glass imprisonment as he brought it up his mouth and took a nervous, shallow sip. His eyes remained open and focused on Lewis, making sure the spirit maintained a generous distance (yet they were tempted to shut in relief as the water cooled the hot ache of his hurting throat).

Lewis narrowed the ghostlight points of his eyes in satisfaction as he watched Arthur drink. One small battle behind them, then. However…

"You're not okay," he observed, after a wary beat to gauge Arthur's wince as he swallowed. Then, softer, more quietly and with less of the ephemeral echo that all of his words seemed to come with now, he asked, "What can I do, Artie?"

It wasn't clear whether Lewis meant immediately, for whatever haze of illness was starting to pass over Arthur, or in the long-term. It was most for where they might be able to occupy the same space and not want to either cry or kill each other.

"You don't have to do anything," Arthur anxiously reassured, setting the unfinished glass of water on the counter. "Seriously, I'll be fine. It's just a stupid cough."

He intentionally left out the fever and nasal congestion that were also plaguing him, but the latter was pointless because, yet again, his timing was NOT of the essence. He barely managed to yank the collar of his t-shirt over his nose and mouth in a trademark shield.

"Hhp'ngtsch!--ih'kttschh!--ih'ptschh!--ih'pschhish!--hih'igschh!" He drew in a breath in the aftermath of the rapid-fire quintuplet, mostly because he wasn't finished and needed air to continue. "…igh'chishh!--hh'ktschh!--ttschh!--hihh'ttgschh!"

Godddd.

Lightheaded now, Arthur opened his glassy eyes and snuffled pathetically behind his makeshift face mask. "Okay. It's just a stupid cold," he corrected himself.

Lewis, who had watched Arthur succumb, hadn't actually been expecting the abruptness and potency of the memory that the fit triggered. An image of too many nights in overlay, sprawled in the back of a van or shacked up in a cheap motel, with an arm around the smaller man as his wiry form seized with endless, hiccuping sneezes in the middle of a gruesome headcold. Probably one that he'd caught from either himself or Vivi, despite every neurotic effort to avoid it.

Not the case at the moment, he suspected. There were many ills the dead could inflict on the living, but that wasn't one of them. Not to mention Vivi had seemed nominally healthy, emotional state aside.

"That was nine," Lewis observed, and then, "Gesundheit. That 'stupid cold' wouldn't have anything to do with taking off in the middle of a storm a few nights ago, would it?"

One of the little pink spooks that seemed to lurk in every cabinet and drawer, where they were least expected, suddenly materialized from thin air and zipped across the counter. The half-filled glass wobbled dangerously, and started to pitch for the floor, when a ghostly hand shot out to catch it before its contents could be upended. Lewis glared at the cackling spirit as it retreated through the ceiling.

It was easy to forget about the past when the future was so consuming. That and Vivi had stopped poking fun at his sneezes a long time ago. Arthur assumed she'd forgotten about it (like she'd forgotten about Lewis, he thought numbly) because it just didn't happen anymore following the events in the cave.

But Lewis…Lewis hadn't forgotten at all, apparently. Maybe he was trying harder than Arthur thought as far as reconciliation went?

…Orrrr maybe Lewis was going to bring up the whole 'running away into the storm' event that had the blond lowering his collar from his face and hugging himself in his usual pose of skittish comfort. Unlike before, his metal arm didn't provide a cool relief along his hot skin; it felt far too frigid, even through his t-shirt as it gripped his opposite shoulder in an inhumanly tight grasp.

Amber eyes flickered away from the spectral being as he tried to focus on something else in the kitchen. So what if he'd bailed? So what if it'd been storming? All he knew was that he couldn't stay in the mansion another second that night in fear of losing his damn mind.

Regardless, it was severely uncool of Lewis to point out his retreat, even if it was relevant to the shiny new illness he was sporting. Seriously. Way to kick a broken man when he was already facedown in his own consuming inadequacies.

"Could you blame me? Do you know how hard it is to stay in this place? How freakin' terrified I am?" he asked in a quiet, hollow voice. His tremors, which had lessened into something that wasn't too noticeable, suddenly crescendoed into earnest quaking again. "Vivi is dealing, I guess, like she always has, but I can't deal with any of this…"

Every single nerve, cell, and internal entity was telling Arthur to shut up, to stop while he was ahead and avoid making Lewis angry (because that was an actual THING now). But damnit, he couldn't help it. Once a stream of defensive words started pouring out of his mouth, he couldn't stop until he had effectively voiced every individual concern that had built up in his chemically unbalanced brain.

"…and I especially can't deal with the grandmaster ghost himself!"

The appointed 'grandmaster ghost' actually drew back a step in abject surprise as Arthur finally turned, like a cornered animal, and lashed out. Even if the attack was only verbal, the words still cut to the bone, what few of them he had left to frame in all the fire and void.

Vivi was dealing. Was she actually just as reluctant and horrified about staying here as Arthur, and had just done a better job of disguising it from him? Lewis' shoulders stiffened defensively.

"Why are you terrified? Christ, Arthur, you're not the only one trying to deal here. I've been trying to just...leave you be, but we can't avoid each other forever. Please..." He laid a palm to his chest, just beside the rapid throb of his heart, in a mockery of humble servitude. "What else can I do to make my murderer more comfortable?"

Shots fired.

TBC

Edited January 30, 2015 by Spoo

[NameTaken]

Yooooo I am getting so into this...I liked the video enough but I felt like there was such little to go off of to make a fandom, y'know?

You guys are proving me wrong. Arthur is such an adorable nervous wreck omg; love the rapid fire fits. And aghhh Lewis is a lovable, considerate babe who is waaaay to cute for his own good. Of course the general mood of the story and the haunted setting are wonderfully written as well!

An image of too many nights in overlay, sprawled in the back of a van or shacked up in a cheap motel, with an arm around the smaller man as his wiry form seized with endless, hiccuping sneezes in the middle of a gruesome headcold.

.....yeahhhh that's just. um. ok.

"What else can I do to make my murderer more comfortable?"

ShiiiiIIIITTTT now you can't leave me hanging! Can't wait to see where you guys take this

[Geist]

Super cute, you two! And you KNOW I'm a big fan of fits and angst! Plot over sneezing is totally my thing, but I won't pretend I didn't enjoy the sneezing just the same . . .

[TaurielRiver]

*gasp!* This is completely, totally, absolutely, the fic that needed to be written!

I have been wondering nonstop about how the biggest issue two best friends would ever have to face could ever be faced, and here you both are, exploring this exact intense issue in the most restrained and heartfelt way possible! Wherever this goes, I could not be more excited to be onboard.

The scene setting even before the interaction even started just drew me right in- I really appreciated the spooky (playful little spooks, aww…), unfamiliar feeling of the house and could totally understand how Arthur, (being Arthur) would feel especially anxious. And the symptoms were a very endearing reflection of the inner turmoil of everything else going on… when he dropped the glass, poor baby, oh my heart…

But then when Lewis’s first reactions are of gentle kindness (even beneath unresolved hurt), and then the little reminders of their friendship… I was holding my breath, you captured the fragility of the bond so perfectly. Lewis is just the most giving friend, and his caring, measured approach (before and still) is just so heart-wrenching and beautiful.

And then the emotions that came to the surface as they finally confronted some home truths were written so very honestly, I am feeling so many things and in such suspense right now! The writing for both characters was in all sincerity, absolutely seamless.

Bring on haunted houses and sleepless midnights, I am loving this emotionally-charged journey!

[Spoo]

NameTaken: There is a HUGE fandom for this animation, haha. It's been like 4 months since the original debut and I still can't get over how much material there is in terms of fanfics, fanart, and even cosplays that fans have put together. People are so creative and awesome. But hey! Hang no more~ This entire story is already written (it's just a matter of editing and posting it up). I'll try to have at least one update a day until it's all posted~

Geist: There is PLENTY of angst here, my friend. These two are a pair of angst muffins, fresh out the oven! But seriously it's just gonna get worse...especially when a certain bluenette wakes up.

TaurielRiver: Yet another generous, flattering review from you! You're too kind, dear~ Garnet and I were talking earlier and we agreed that we're going to adopt you. Then we can all live in a house together and exchange stories and cry together over our pairings and feels. But anyway, yessss. The boys are a bit fragile at the moment, but rest assured it gets better (afterrrr getting a tiny bit worse ).

Okay! So I feel that it's important to make a note about something. It's become a head canon amongst fans that Lewis can take on a more "human" form. Meaning, he can look EXACTLY as he did when he was alive...save for his eyes. His eyes remain spooky (<-- This one was drawn by Garnet!). Keep that little tidbit in mind for later on in the chapter~

Closure

Part 2

by Garnet and Spoo

Arthur felt as if his oxygen supply had been violently cut off. Try as he might, he couldn't breathe. It was probably the onset of a panic attack (he'd experienced more than enough throughout his lifetime to recognize the telltale symptoms) but it was hard to piece together the logistics of anything, let alone what his body was doing, when it felt like he'd inhaled a cooling agent.

Murderer. Murderer. MURDERER!

The eight-letter word spread like a cancer in his soul, catalyzing his already flared emotions into something disastrous: He could feel a dizzying combination of anger, sadness, and infinite guilt swirling within him, creating a sensation so overwhelming that it was physically crippling.

Unable to respond right away, Arthur dropped his head - chin to chest - and clutched his frail body tighter, as if it would fall apart were he to loosen his grip. His eyes, which had grown misty throughout he and Lewis' confrontation, officially refilled and overflowed onto his cheeks; the tears raced along the side of his nose until they dripped onto his shirt and were absorbed into the wrinkled cotton.

He seriously doubted that crying would help his head when it was already achy and heavy from the weight of his rising temperature, but in that moment…in that horrible, crushing moment he couldn't find it in him to care.

"I-I...hic!...didn't m-mean to," he whimpered at a volume no stronger than a whisper. That quickly changed when his head suddenly snapped up, his voice cracking from the strength of his helpless desperation. "It wasn't my fault!"

"You keep saying that!" the ghost barked, flames of frustration beginning to leap off brow and shoulders.

The backwash of guilt hadn't hit him yet, and when it did, it would be bitter and fierce. For now, the crumbling edges of Arthur's breakdown only seemed to fuel his ire, like a constant feedback loop of negative emotions. Lewis was aware, however, of things already threatening to spike out of control, and he tightened one hand into a fist until his knuckles cracked, pacing himself. When he continued, it was slower and marginally more composed, although the tether was still strained.

"You keep saying that, and I... I want to believe you, Arthur, I really do. You were my best friend. I just... for years I didn't have anything else to go by, no closure, just that image of you standing over me in constant, constant replay. It's burned into the back of my skull."

It was almost enough to make a person... oh, crazy.

Lewis started to take a step towards him, to reach out, then thought better of it and actually retreated back. Simmered. "Just... Fuck, talk to me, Arthur," he sighed, cutting the words harshly for a man who'd so rarely sworn and raised his voice in life. "I can't read your mind. I want this to work. I don't want to be angry at you or for you to be afraid of me, but I..."

He trailed off, helpless, and let a hand rise and fall to clumsily finish the statement by itself. Yeah.

"I…" Arthur attempted, yet interrupted himself with a choked sob. "I'm so s-sorry, Lew. I--hic! I should've been…stronghhic! Stronger…" Slowly, he began to slide down the counter until he sat on the cold floor, knees drawn to chest. "I just always kn-knew…" He looked up, his exp

ression the epitome of hurt. "That one day something would hhhappen…nhg…I just thought…I…" A fresh batch of tears raced down his face. "…that I'd be the one to bite the bullet. It sh-should have--hic! been m-me… God, it should have been mmhh…"

It occurred to Lewis then that he was making things so much worse. In fact, it hit him all at once as Arthur broke down in front of him, and like all of his emotions post-mortem, the frustration and anger seemed to subside as quickly as it had risen. It hadn't been so much of an issue when he only kept his own company, but since welcoming actual, human companionship back into his life, he'd been a damned roller coaster.

"Oh, Artie..."

Lewis had wanted his ex-friend to understand his suffering, to have some inkling of empathy for the long, confusing, lonely existence he'd borne those past few years. Clearly, though, Arthur had suffered in his own ways, the guilt eating him away as surely as Lewis's rage had slowly consumed him. It extinguished like a candle blown out now as he circled slowly around to settle on the floor some few feet away from where Arthur had gone fetal, still wracked with the occluding gag of sobs.

The part of him that was still human, the untarnished core of personality, wanted to put a comforting hand on the blond's shoulder, or pull him into a rough sidelong hug as he had too many dozen times before. At the moment, though, he expected that Arthur would neither appreciate the sudden seesaw of emotion nor the proximity to... well. A ghost. He put his back to the cabinets just outside of arm's reach, one leg bent and the other stretched out across the tile.

"You're right. We pushed our luck way too many times, so I guess in that sense... I'm glad it was me. I wouldn't have wanted it to be you or, God forbid, Vivi. I'm not upset that I'm dead. I've made my peace with the idea, just not how it happened."

Lewis didn't even mean the cause of death. The shock hadn't let him feel much pain, to be honest, although he could have wished it had been quicker. Neither Arthur nor Vivi needed to know how long his brain kept functioning even after he'd been impaled, how long it took to lose consciousness before he finally bled out, listening to Arthur's own gruesome screams.

He just wished Arthur hadn't been the one to push.

"I'm sorry, man, I shouldn't have dumped this all on you when you're sick. I didn't mean it, calling you my murderer. I think I just... want everything to be okay again, but I'm as guilty of holding onto it as anyone, if not moreso." Lewis made to reach out, then hesitated, thinking better of it again. Nnnno, still probably not a good idea, looking like he did.

Arthur had no clue how long he sat there, blubbering, until he felt like he was going to pass out. It must have been at least a few minutes, because when he raised his head again, expecting to see Lewis hovering in front of him, he noticed that the ghost was now seated nearby instead; he didn't have the energy to scream and scramble away, so he remained where he was, trembling.

The exertion of his previous sobs must have triggered something in lungs though, and now that the keening wails had died down they were easily replaced by deep, crackly coughs that he masked behind one of his hands. Chest colds had never been particularly kind to him - no thanks to the childhood asthma he'd suffered from; they tended to leave a wheeze in his chest long after he'd gotten over the initial virus.

He felt no stronger than a brittle leaf once he was released from the fit, his inhales shallow and his exhales whistling. "I wish…we could start over again," he croaked, looking at Lewis through swollen, bruised eyes. "Or at least redo that night in the cave." The night where two lives had changed and one had ended.

Sniffling wetly, Arthur reached up to run the inside of his wrist under his nose again; he could feel the appendage running, mixing in with his tears and making him feel even more useless than he already felt. Well, until he started coughing. Again. Yeahhh…now he was just plain pathetic.

It was difficult to discern exp

ressions on the poltergeist's skeletal features, but Lewis seemed to wince nonetheless as Arthur fell into yet another coughing jag.

"Jeez," he sighed, stretching above him for the abandoned glass of water. He placed it pointedly on the floor between them, at a waypoint of safety. "You're going to end up like me, if you keep that up."

Haaah, ghost humor.

Both hands, outlined in bone, returned to his lap after that, as he mulled his companion's words over. "Well. We can't go back," he admitted, glancing up at the ceiling. Not for lack of trying, either, but sadly time travel was not among his repertoire of newfound spiritual talents. "But we can move forward. You should...probably get back to bed first, though. You sound awful."

"I can't sleep," Arthur admitted, sloooowly reaching for the glass he'd been offered. "I had a nightmare. It's why I'm awake in the first place."

He sipped the water at a snail's pace and then settled for holding it between his palms, which were stationed in the middle of his thighs. The tempting urge to wake Vivi started up in his head again, because he was almost positive that having her stroke his hair would have knocked him right out.

Sighing, Arthur turned his head to glance at Lewis. He had a strong feeling that things wouldn't have been so tense if, well, the skeleton ghost wasn't a skeleton ghost.

"Maybe I'll just stay awake all night," he mused, rubbing his reddened nose into his shoulder. All of the sniffling he was doing post emotional breakdown was starting to rekindle the feathering tickle he'd experienced earlier. "It'll save me the trouble of waking up again when I have another nightmare."

"That's a good way to make yourself worse," Lewis replied, dry.

Rather then hoist himself to his feet with a gravity-burdened creak of bones and muscle, he seemed to float up off the floor and into a towering stance once more, the tips of his shoes not quite touching the checkered linoleum.

"C'mon," he said, offering a hand down. When the smaller man only stared at him at length, dodgy and still clearly uncomfortable, he lowered the arm with another spectral sigh. "Artie, I'm not gonna hurt you," he reminded him, then hesitated and passed a hand in front of his face. Oh, right. "...this is still freaking you out, huh?" Lewis prompted with a gesture to... well, all of himself.

"Yeah. It really is," Arthur replied honestly, tapping the rim of his glass nervously. "Sorry, dude."

He knew that it was Lewis behind the ghostly mask and not some ghoulish impostor, buuuut that didn't make things any easier when it came to actually touching the guy. Or, you know. Trusting him in general. Lamest Ex-Friend of the Year Award, anyone? Sheesh.

"There wouldn't happen to be a...PG version of your new form, would there? Snf!" At that point, though, Arthur would have been okay with Lewis adorning a white sheet like the ghosts in cartoons or any other hokey television show about ghosts. Anything was better than a flaming skull, man.

Lewis couldn't really blame the jittery mechanic. Even with hellish, spectral intimidation aside, this was the form that had come... well, dangerously close to hurting him. He couldn't even clearly say why he'd chosen it, or if he'd chosen it, just that it was the comfortable default.

It didn't mean it was the only option, though. "I... yeah, hang on. Don't freak out."

Maybe not the best way to put out a warning, but before Arthur could work himself up too much in preparation, the ghost's form was obscured by a thin sheet of pink fire. The same energy that seemed to fuel his core and follow him in vapor trails briefly threw the entire kitchen into bizarre neon hues, before fading away with a soft whoosh.

In its place, a far more familiar figure touched down to the floor. Less fire, more flesh. More Lewis, right down to the features in perfect detail, squared off jaw and Roman nose, a dark complexion and loose fringe of bangs skimmed across his brow. The only thing that hadn't converted neatly, in fact, were the voids of his eyes. Now the irises worked back and forth over Arthur cautiously, glowing dully against black sclera. It was an eerie effect, but less so than the disembodied points of light that floated in his skull's eye sockets otherwise. A brief snap of his fingertips completed the transformation, as his suit gave way to a familiar waistcoat and the exteriorized ribs and heart vanished.

"This is, uh... as close as I can get."

Arthur could hardly believe what he was seeing. There, standing in front of him, wasn't a terrorizing monster but the form of someone he knew - the form of someone he loved. Sure, Lewis' eyes were still a little creepy, but…

The glass of water fell from numb hands, but since it was a relatively short distance it didn't shatter once it hit the ground. Ignoring the spilled puddle of liquid at his feet, Arthur stood up much faster than his fevered body should have allowed.

"Lewis?"

The blond had convinced himself that he would never see the other man again - at least, not in the way he'd seen him in the past. The Lewis he knew was still in that cave, far too high to ever reach, decomposed and forgotten. And yet…here he was. Here was his best friend. Before he could even think of stopping himself, Arthur practically leapt forward and threw his arms around the ghost-turned-almost-human's neck, embracing him with years of pent-up neediness.

Okay. A hug? Lewis hadn't been expecting a hug. If not ever again, then at least not for a good while. He stiffened with both the force and the surprise of it, back rigid and the simulation of his breath coming up short.

"...hey, bud."

At least he felt reassuringly solid to the touch. Not warm, perhaps, not with the furnace heat he'd put out once upon a time, but a faint thrum of energy took its place, vibrating out from his chest. After a moment's pause, he even tucked his jaw down slightly, and encircled the smaller man in turn. A gentle embrace soon enough became a trademark bear hug that cleared Arthur from the floor, pressed tight to his chest. Sure, maybe he smelled more like ozone than cooking spices, motor oil and leather, now, but fundamentally...

Yeah, he was still dead. They were both actually floating a couple inches off the ground, now. As soon as he became aware of it, Lewis brought them to the ground and gently released his friend.

On the other hand, Arthur hadn't noticed the lack of ground beneath his feet - not even when he felt his socks come in contact with the cold floor again. All he was aware of was the big guy's presence and how insanely comforted he was to have his Lewis back, sans scary skull and flames.

"This works so much better, bro," he rasped, looking up at the taller male. A faint smile had even twitched at his pale lips, showing how absolutely, 100% okay he was with Lewis' new form. "I have no clue how much time I'll need with your, uh…other self, but this right here is fine."

The mechanic in him was curious as to how the whole shifting thing happened, but any and all inner-workings questions would have to wait, because Arthur was suddenly preoccupied with the whims of his nose again. This time, thankfully, he had a small heads-up and was able to take a step back and duck into the bend of his elbow.

His metal hand cupped the back of said elbow, keeping it pressed to his face as he convulsed with the rapid-fire fit:

"Ih'gnschh!--ihp'kttschh!--kttschh!--hh'tschish!--ihpschh!--ittschh'uu!" The steady stream faltered for a second, even though there were staccato hitches to fill in the silence. Arthur mentally willed the stupid attack to hurry up and finish, and his impatience was both rewarded and punished by an even stronger onslaught. "…hhp'tddschh!--igh'sschhh!--igghschh!--ih'gdschhh'uu!--hihh'ihh'ih--ihgn'SSCHHH!"

Lewis had counted the sneezes out of habit, but he lost track after the seventh or eighth, when they tumbled out practically on top of one another. Ugh, he'd nearly forgotten how intense they were, or how keen his worry was when his companion could barely seem to get a breath out in between.

A hand hesitated towards Arthur, as if the bigger male were preparing to catch the skinny blond should he pitch right over. He didn't, but it didn't stop Lewis from hovering. Metaphorically.

"Jeez, Artie. Bless you." The human shape of his hand grazed Arthur's metal arm, giving a cursory tug at the crook between the plating. "C'mon, bed. I mean it, before I have to scrape you off the floor."

If Arthur had been woozy before, he was actually swaying now from prolonged exposure to his extended sneezing fit. Once he managed to steady himself and blink back the sheen of tears that glossed his already rheumy sclerae, he looked up at Lewis and took his words to heart.

"'Kay," he finally agreed, feeling like laying down was actually a great idea at this point. Didn't matter if he fell asleep again or just…laid there. He needed to get off his feet before he collapsed.

Prior to leaving the kitchen, he picked up the glass that had met the floor one too many times that night; he set it back on the counter and sidestepped the pink sprite that swiped it back into the cabinet with a chittering, almost clicking-like noise.

…Wait a second.

Having always been a rodent enthusiast, Arthur gazed at Lewis through puffy, partly-hooded eyes as they started to walk together. "This cold is messing with my hearing, right? Because that sounded like a yellow-pine chipmunk."

"A what?"

Satisfied enough that Arthur had consented to bedrest, Lewis hadn't paid much attention to their lurking host of other spiritual company. The thin chirping of the little spook as it raced back out of the kitchen and scooted between their legs finally distracted him enough to make the connection. Occasionally the choral ghosts became more background scenery and noise, even in their fits of mischief, until one specifically demanded his attention.

"Oh, that. It might have been? Most of them were animals. I can't really tell unless they choose to look like what they were."

As Lewis half-walked and half-floated beside Arthur en route to the guest bedroom, the pink ghost looped back again with a sing-song note of pleasure and swirled daringly around the loose prosthesis of Arthur's arm.

"Heh. I think you made a friend."

"This one isn't so bad, I guess," Arthur decided hoarsely, watching as the sprite hovered over his shoulder and chittered. "I just hope it doesn't tell its friends about me. I really don't need an entourage of these guys. Like, seriously."

"What, you don't want to be the ghost rodent whisperer?" Lewis teased mildly, but he fixed the spook with a small look, as if to say be nice.

Arthur shook his head and then covered his mouth as a few more chesty coughs bubbled up. Thankfully they were more tame than the ones in the kitchen had been (it still hurt, though). Grimacing, Arthur passed a hand over his sternum and rubbed the area tenderly. Medicine was probably something he needed at some point (he'd more than likely take the van the following day and find the closest town) but for now he just had to soldier through it.

As they arrived at the bedroom he was staying in, Arthur watched as Mystery, who had remained on the bed, perked up at the sound of their entrance. The canine stared at Lewis in a way that reflected discomfort, but after a second there came a switch in demeanor: Slowly, Mystery's tail began to thump along the bedsheets; it gradually gained momentum as he jumped off of the mattress and trotted up to Lewis, his tail now a miniature propeller.

"Hey, buddy," Lewis greeted, dropping to one knee to accept the dog's wagging greeting with huge hands scruffing gently at his cheeks and soft ears. "You too, huh? I guess I should practice looking like this for a while."

A part of Arthur felt guilty that he'd requested Lewis to assume a form that wasn't his um, "true" one. And yet, a larger part of him couldn't help but be relieved to actually look at the big guy and not feel terrified for once. Spooky eyes or not, this was the closest he was getting to his former best friend, and he'd take it.

As Mystery and Lewis became reacquainted, the sickliest in the room got back into bed and pulled the darkly-colored sheets over him. He was beyond tired after the activities in the kitchen, yet he was still apprehensive to go back to sleep. Stupid nightmares. Ugh.

Turning onto his side, he curled up cozily and bent his metal arm beneath his head, so that his cheek rested on his folded elbow. Everything felt…weird, but not as weird as before? Draining as it was, he felt that he and Lewis' spat was sort've necessary to progress them along. Had it been hurtful? Unbelievably. Emotionally exhausting? God yes.

But at least they stood on higher ground now in terms of what was hopefully a mending (though forever awkward?) friendship.

TBC

[Vintagedarling]

Awwww Lewis just wants to make Arthur comfy/ safe around him. Super CUTE!!!

[TaurielRiver]

Hehehe, seconded, yes please! You make me feel SO welcome here you know. Just in case I haven’t mentioned that. Or somehow made it super-duper obvious!

Wow, the strength of the opening in this section, while so so intense, is just such a relief! I am so glad to see Lewis finally show and then be able to let go of some of his anger, and Arthur opening up (in absolute distress) about thinking it could or should have been him… oh gosh, that conversation just about had me at breaking point!! And, even though saddening, I was actually glad for the mention of Lewis’s last moments, because I felt that, for the character, I needed to know.

As for the head cannon for “human” ghost Lewis, I am totally seeing how it’s a ‘thing’, it works very well for this particular plot too. And of course, Lewis being ever more kind and accommodating to Artie is just making me all silly-melty for this adorable angsty friendship all over again!! When Lewis finally says “…hey, bud” after ALL THAT, my heart was just cheering knowing it’s gonna be okay! And Arthur all worn-down and getting taken to bed… talk about pushing my comfort buttons! Absolutely gorgeous, I'm in this to the end!

[Spoo]

TaurielRiver: Oh my God. When Garnet wrote about Lewis' final moments - how he didn't die on impact and actually REMAINED alive for a few minutes while impaled on the stalagmite?? I cried. I SERIOUSLY cried. I mean, how gruesome is that??? To hear the screams of your best friend as you slowly bleed to death... It's just hoooorrible. But yes, Arthur is super ill and needs to sleep more than anything. He and Lewis aren't 100% "okay", but they're managing and at least willing to compromise. That's better than nothing, right? Thank you again for your wonderful comments/reviews! They are truly and lovingly appreciated~

Ho'kay! There's just ONE MORE part after this one~ Apologies again on the lack of sneezing. It's honestly on the backburner from this point on.

Closure

Part 3

by Garnet and Spoo

Apparently the dead still attracted dog hair, Lewis thought, as he gave himself a cursory brush-off from petting Mystery.

And...now what? Arthur looked patently miserable and alone in the huge bed, curled in on himself. In another life, Lewis would have joined him and held the smaller man tucked into a sad, sick bundle against his chest. Even with a more favorable appearance, though, Lewis doubted that Arthur would welcome deceased bed companions, nor was he sure he wanted that quite yet.

He did brush a careful hand over Arthur's forehead - the simulation of flesh that no longer put out its own heat feeling that much cooler on Arthur's feverish brow.

Arthur shivered beneath Lewis' hand, though he didn't ask for it to be removed. The contact, cold as it was, was still contact. Funny how not even thirty minutes prior he couldn't be within a foot of the other man, and now here he was, leaning up into Lewis' outstretched palm like a touch-starved child.

When Arthur didn't shrink away, Lewis dwelled longer in the touch, and by his bedside. After a few cautious beats he even settled slowly onto the edge of the bed, beside Arthur's blanket-huddled form, as his hand slipped from his brow. The mattress didn't seem to sink with as much weight as it realistically should have, but at least Lewis wasn't phasing right through it.

"You need anything else? I can get Vivi, if you want. I know she'd take care of you."

At the mention of Vivi, the blond's eyes grew guilty. He shook his head. "No, it's cool. She's put up with me enough this week. She deserves an actual night of rest without being interrupted."

Bringing a fist up to his mouth, Arthur coughed again and winced from the painful abuse it gave his throat and chest; he wouldn't have been surprised if, come morning, he lost his voice. That's definitely where things were heading with the frequency and strength of his coughing fits.

Trying not to whimper (because yeah, ow) Arthur turned watery eyes up at Lewis and sniffled. "I'm really sorry for the way I've been treating you, man. It's just a lot, you know? For everyone. Not just for me. I…never expected you to come back into our lives."

Especially looking like you normally do, Arthur purposefully left out.

"Honestly, neither did I," Lewis admitted, letting his hands fall to a familiar, dangling fold between bent knees. "And it's... it's okay. Even if I want it to be easy, I knew it wasn't going to be. I'm sorry, too, if I've been.. different." A palm brushed against his own jaw in an uncertain massage before coming to linger on the nape of his neck. It looked considerably less strange when he did it in this shape, and had an actual neck to rest it on. "Besides just the physical. I feel like an emotional powder keg, you know? Just... boom." A hand spread for effect, mimicking a miniature explosion. "I don't mean to be that way."

Lewis glanced back at Arthur's face, his fever-bright eyes and rosy cheeks. "I do still love you, though."

"Duuude, that's not fair," Arthur deliriously half-laughed, half-cried. "You can't say that stuff when I'm already an emotional train wreck. Seriously." He reached up to dab at his eyes, which had reflexively flooded with Lewis' last statement. Then, sniffling, he pulled the covers further up his shoulder.

The mansion was cold without him being sick. Now it felt like a freezer (he suspected he would have seen his breath, were the lighting more pronounced in the dim room). "I'm hoping things might be better after tonight," Arthur continued, his eyes feeling heavier by the second.

His metal arm was removed from under his head and directed forward, until his silver fingers could idly clutch onto Lewis' shirt sleeve in a very much 'don't leave' gesture; his fleshy hand formed a fist and stretched out in a request for a fist-bump. "Are we cool for now?"

Lewis stiffened, cautious and automatic. His posture and expression softened, though, at the plain prompt he was issued. His knuckles bumped gently against the other man's, in turn. He sincerely hoped that they would be better, now that each had a better idea of where the other was coming from - the hurdles and emotional hang-ups they were still facing.

"Yeah, Artie. We're cool."

Lewis reached for an extra blanket folded thickly at the foot of the bed and tugged it up and over Arthur's sheet-swaddled shape. "Get some rest. You, uh, want me to stay until you fall asleep or anything?"

It wasn't like he had any quota of it himself to fulfill.

"If it doesn't bother you, then yeah," Arthur replied sheepishly. "Sorry. I know I'm being a huge baby right now."

"Nah, I don't mind."

In fact, Lewis thought it felt weirdly good to be... wanted? Even or maybe especially for so effortless a task -- just to fill the room with his presence. Despite the framework already being erected over their burned bridges, Arthur's comment of... well, dealing had struck home, and still left a faintly hissing crater of insecurity.

Because eventually he and Vivi were probably going get tired of just dealing. They couldn't stay in limbo with Lewis forever, and Lewis couldn't exactly pass in society, even like this. When the two moved past the emotional upheaval and found some form of peace again, they probably wouldn't want...

Nnnh, Lewis needed to not think about that. It was better to enjoy this for what it was, in the moment.

In spite of his earlier wish to remain awake, Arthur soon found that his heavy eyelids had other plans. Fitful dozing eventually turned into a light sleep that was occasionally interrupted by jerky twitches and grimaces. Soon enough, it steadied out and he automatically moved closer to Lewis, his cheek practically atop the deceased man's thigh.

Aaaand all of this just as someone entered the room.

Vivi couldn't explain what had woken her up, but her first instinct was to check on Arthur. She'd grown somewhat used to having him in her bed at night, and when he wasn't she still liked to keep tabs on how he was doing (poor dude was such a mess lately).

She was rubbing her eyes as she quietly stepped into the room, her glasses off and vision somewhat blurry, yet when she lowered her hands, spotting someone who she only ever saw in fragmented dreams, she had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from squeaking.

"Oh jeez," she laughed, the sweet sound more sad than humorous. "Wow, I'm totally dreaming right now. Wake up, Vivi."

Lewis' attention jerked up guiltily as Vivi wandered into the room, and he ducked slightly. Ah, hell. Quickly revert his shape and hope Arthur didn't wake up and freak out, or maintain the one he presently had and hope Vivi didn't freak out?

...Or maybe just disappear.

In spite of the desire to vanish quickly through the floorboards, however, he offered a quiet, "H-hi Vi.."

Oh. Maybe she wasn't dreaming, then. Maybe…maybe this was actually happening? Talk about an unexpected and completely unforeseen event.

"Um. Hi, Lew," Vivi returned, awkwardly sliding the sleeve of her oversized sleeping shirt back over her shoulder. "I, uh. I had no clue you could look like this. I thought, you know, the new you was preeeetty permanent."

The bluenette smiled at him in a way that wasn't necessarily forced, but it was still in a manner that implied she wasn't completely convinced she was actually seeing what she was seeing. "Super rad eyes, though!" she added quickly, hoping it would be enough to show she wasn't flat-out rejecting his almost-human form or anything. Shuffleshuffleshuffle.

Yyyyeah, Lewis thought. Vivi was definitely dealing.

Said 'rad eyes', in their eerie suggestion of a veil still too transparent, lowered as she coasted awkwardly over the topic. Neither aspect of himself seemed to please his friends tonight. It was a saddening thought. The smile on her face was nice, though. Even if it was reflexive in the moment, he still had missed that more than anything.

"The new me is permanent. This is... " Lewis passed a large hand in front of his face, indicative. "It takes some concentration to maintain, but Arthur liked it better." His shoulders sloped up and then down in a helpless shrug, headed towards apologetic. "I wasn't sure if it would... upset you?"

Man, how had he become so bad at this, in just a few years of isolation? Fundamentally they were all the same people, and yet…and yet.

It was easy to see how disheartened Lewis was over her reaction (and probably the one that Arthur had had earlier, if what Lewis was saying about 'Arthur liking it better' was true). Vivi didn't bother hiding her frown as petite feet took her closer to him, where she was granted a clearer image of the sleeping form on the bed.

She meant to respond to Lewis' statements, to assure him that she liked him in whatever form he felt most comfortable in, but her mind was the equivalent of a junk drawer and tended to focus on whatever 'shiny' was frontmost.

That happened to be Arthur.

"Oh no," Vivi exclaimed, inviting herself onto the bed. "Is Artie sick?"

He certainly looked sick with his cherry nose, flushed cheeks, and - yikes, that was definitely a wheeze in his breathing. Not cool. Not even close to cool. Concerned, Vivi settled a hand over Arthur's forehead and was highly unhappy to find it hotter than she would have liked.

"Did he have a nightmare?" she asked, looking (but not really looking) at Lewis. One thing at a time, she told herself.

Lewis had once been famously good at being utterly selfless. Now it took him a moment to get over the little well of hurt at being ignored and refocus his attention where it should have been. Sometimes he swore that being dead felt like being a big giant supernaturally-imbued baby. It would certainly explain all the unpleasant poltergeists they'd encountered over the years, ranging from sulky to vengeful.

His spectral eyes dropped back to Arthur's sleeping form, still huddled against and practically spilling into his lap. "He did have a nightmare. He was also coughing and pretty warm. I found him in the kitchen." Lewis carefully excised their little spat from his recount, but smoothed his fingertips over the smaller man's brow gently enough. "My mamá always said it was better to let a fever run its course. I think sleep's the best thing for him," he added, blinking as that blip of memory surfaced from the sea of them at random.

Huh. He stared at the sheets for a minute. "I, uh... I can leave you to it, though." Vivi was probably better versed in bedside care than he was, or at least in better practice. She didn't really need him hovering.

Vivi withdrew her hand from Arthur's brow at Lewis' suggestion to leave. Before she could stop herself, she reached for his arm and…hesitated a bit, because could she even touch him when he looked like this? Would her hand go straight through him like a hologram, or was this seriously legit?

Her curiosity was answered as she lightly touched his sleeve, and then curled her small fingers around the fullness of his muscled arm. Okay, so she could touch him. Cool beans.

"No, you can stay," she said, and then added, almost shyly: "I really want you to."

TBC

Edited January 26, 2015 by Spoo

[TaurielRiver]

Oh boy, I feel very VERY spoiled with this beautiful story right now!! Like….wow, don’t stop!!

I am honestly so wrapped up in these characters and this crazy-good, super-troubled heart to heart, that the sneezing side of things isn’t even on my mind… I just want to give Lewis the biggest cuddle ever!!

Yes, I can totally believe you cried. It’s just so shocking to actually imagine, not only how painful, confusing and terrifying it would have been, but also hearing the emotional agony of your best friend, not knowing what just happened, not at that point even knowing why.

But oh, you and Garnet had me absolutely undone though… in this moment… right here… "I do still love you, though." Oh man. That was it. Seriously, even though you made me all teary reading that (this is like, becoming your specialty...), I also kind of cracked-up the next second because Arthur’s all like “Duuude, that's not fair”, and I’m thinking, um, YEAH, my thoughts exactly!!

And “...Or maybe just disappear”… that really brought it home for me in terms of, oh god, this is just hard on a whole other level for Lewis, having always been there for everyone before, now compromising for Arthur while trying hard not to bring about any upsetting memories for Vivi… because if they go, he doesn’t have anyone. And that’s really scary!

And Vivi… aww, I was waiting for this, I adore her! Even though things won’t be the same, she is just such a unique sweetheart and probably the best candidate for making it work with a ghost-boyfriend you could get!

So so wonderful as always, you two are my heroes!

[Spoo]

TaurielRiver: Thank you again for your wonderful comments! It's incredible how, as a writer, you can develop these characters when we know so little of them. And then you factor in the emotions (good and bad) and hope for the best. Thank goodness for Vivi, though! She definitely has a way with sad ghost boyfriend babies~

There's only ONE MORE PART after this! And hopefully it's a little uplifting than this one.

Closure

Part 4

by Garnet and Spoo

If Vivi was being honest with herself, it wasn't easy seeing Lewis like he once was…but it also wasn't something horrible? The feeling fell in a gray medium that possessed enough positivity to keep her from asking her ghost of a boyfriend not to take the form of his previous self.

Looking back at Arthur, she worked on getting under the covers and carefully transitioning him more onto her lap. Once that was done, she started stroking Arthur's hair to ensure that he'd keep sleeping. There was no need for him to wake up anyway. Poor guy.

Anyyyywho. Back to her earlier business.

"You're not upsetting me, by the way. I mean, it is surprising. Seeing you with skin and hair again. But it's really fine." She reached out the hand that wasn't stroking Arthur's hair and held it towards Lewis in a silent request that he put his own hand in it. She even wiggled her fingers, showing that she reaaaally wanted to hold his hand.

The temptation to abandon the domestic scene, like an accidental intruder, was strong. Was this how Arthur used to feel all the time? Nonetheless, Lewis' hand slipped obediently into Vivi's, framing out her body as he slouched slowly against her free shoulder. His brow came to rest in the spot between it and her neck, in a posture of either affection or defeat, if not both. With his eyes hidden, the illusion was just about perfect, minus a slight, supernatural glow to his skin, noticeable only in the gloom of the darkened room, and the fact that he wasn't putting out nearly enough heat.

"I'm sorry," he said against her shirt. "I'm... trying to make this easier for you, both of you, but I don't think I'm doing a very good job."

"You're doing the best you can, which is more than either of us could ask for," Vivi replied, ever the Positive Polly. "I know it's harder for Artie, but I'm sure he appreciates it deep down, y'know? I know I do. Cool powers or not, you're still a huge sweetie-pie and I love you for it." Turning her face, she kissed into Lewis' hair and gasped a bit at the unique feel of the strands. They were solid, yes, but also nnnot?

She definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. And speaking of Toto… Having made himself cozy on the floor prior to Vivi's entrance, Mystery decided that he wanted up on the bed as well. He settled at their feet - his usual throne - and exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes closing.

On Vivi's lap, Arthur started to cough in his sleep. It wasn't anything violent or severe, but it encouraged her to rub his shoulder comfortingly. "So, you found him in the kitchen?"

"Mmm-hm. I think running out into the storm the other night did him in. He hates it here." Which brought up that other uncomfortable point again. He was trying his best not to dwell on it, but after a few moments of idly toeing behind Mystery's ear until the dog grunted and sighed with pleasure, Lewis added, "You guys don't have to stay, you know?"

"We don't really have a game plan, though," Vivi said, stroking her thumb across Lewis' wide palm. "It's not like we were going anywhere important before all of this happened. At least, I don't think it was important? Sorry, my head is still a little fuzzy."

There wasn't much she could say as far as Arthur went. For one, she couldn't speak for him. For another, Lewis was…well, he was right in his assumption. Arthur wasn't the biggest fan of the mansion or anything that came with it. Vivi, however, was getting used to the changing rooms, and disappearing stairs, and the cute little pink ghosties that liked hiding under her hair.

"And anyway," she continued, setting another kiss in Lewis' hair. "I don't want to leave..."

Lewis leaned into the kiss and tightened his fingers through hers. If not warm, they at least felt reassuringly solid, perhaps owing to the skeleton that he felt generally more sure of.

"You guys still have lives, though. Jobs, and friends and family. At least, I assume you do," he protested slowly, but without much conviction. "You'll want to go back to all that eventually. Just because I'm stuck in limbo doesn't mean you have to be. I'd rather be alone and know you guys are happy. Who knows, maybe I'll finally get to move on to some sort of afterlife, if so."

The thought of Lewis moving on, of him crossing over was something Vivi had strongly avoided thinking of since she'd regained her memories. She was well aware that wandering spirits found the peace and solace they so desperately longed for on 'the other side', but that didn't make it any easier on the living who would, surely enough, never see them again.

Of course, it also didn't help matters that Lewis was more or less saying that she and Arthur were sticking around because they felt guilty. No. Just…no.

"I don't want to leave you alone," she started, not entirely sure where her words were going. "You were by yourself for way too long. I can't imagine how painful that was. My memories, you…you already know what happened to them." It was a horrifying thought to her - how someone so dear and so loved could just vanish from her mind.

The hand holding his gently slipped free and framed the side of Lewis' cool, fleshy-but-not-fleshy cheek. "I always felt like something was missing. I wasn't sad or anything, but it seemed like a part of me was gone. Like, I'd lost something precious that night. I know now that it was you that I lost, but even when I had no idea who you were, Lew, I missed you. So much." She took a breath and blinked back the hot prickle that was stinging her cerulean eyes. "You still mean the world to me."

The broad, powerful line of Lewis' shoulders cast down again as she angled his jaw into the shallow cup of her hand. Like a tame bull, he quieted immediately under the touch, eyes hooded, even as his mouth drew into a regretful frown.

"I keep forgetting, about your memories. I was so miserable and angry and isolated, day in and day out, I think I... automatically expect you to understand that same feeling, but of course you don't. And I didn't want you to. It's just... frustrating?"

His freed hand came up to lay over the back of her own, sandwiching it gently between his cool, ghostly skin. "All I had were those memories, eating away at me with no other human contact. I think that would make anyone crazy, living or dead. Now that you guys are here in the flesh, it's like I... I have no idea what to do with you anymore. I know Arthur's terrified of me, and you're... I don't even know what you're feeling, but I don'twantyoutoleave."

He blinked rapidly, throat narrowing at a weak choke of remorse threatening to overwhelm it. He swallowed past it with a soft snuffle, sounding more emotionally induced than the sick wheeze of the man on her other side.

Okay. Man (ghost) up. No crying.

He turned his cheek into her shoulder with a grounding sigh, resting on it as his free hand feathered gently back into Arthur's hair with no apparent ill will. No matter how much his subconscious told him to hang onto it.

"I missed you, too."

Vivi had had a feeling that Lewis was suffering more than he'd let on, and she now knew that her suspicions had been right. He'd been very respectful during she and Arthur's stay, giving them appropriate space and never lingering any longer than he had to (unless one of them specifically requested otherwise). Arthur, understandably, never asked him to stick around, and she…she felt it best to let Lewis do as he pleased.

But that wasn't to say that she didn't crave his presence. She truly, honestly did. The fact that he'd died, that he was no longer flesh and blood, didn't sway Vivi's feelings or make her any less inclined to love him. That had to mean something, right? Even if it just meant that she was weird or creepy for continuing to absolutely believe - with all of her heart and broken mind - that Lewis was everything to her.

"If you really wanna know how I'm feeling, I can try to describe it to you?" she offered, feeling it almost imperative to make him feel better.

Vivi was still getting used to Lewis' new outlook and general demeanor, how the solidity of his levelheadedness and calm nature had broken off into frantic little pieces that were easily swept away in a storm of uncontrolled emotion.

"I don't want you to be upset or think that I'm lying to you, because I promise you I'm not. I'm…confused, yeah. And a little bit scared, but I'm not scared because of you. I'm scared because…I have no clue what's going to happen to you." She bit her lip and blinked rapidly to banish the still-present sheen of tears that was refusing to go away. "I don't want to lose you again, because I don't think there'll be a 'next time'. I think this time…once you're gone, you'll be gone."

The frankness of Vivi's confession felt better than her gentle attempts to reassure him, or pretend that everything was okay. Even if it brought up points Lewis didn't want to consider any more than she did, the honesty was a solid tether that he could grasp.

"I'm not sure what the rules for that are," he admitted, picking his head back up and angling himself just enough to rest his brow against hers. "I didn't get a Handbook of the Recently Deceased or anything."

That had to be some form of bitter irony. For all of their expertise and experience with pursuing the ghostly presence, none of them were well-prepared to experience it firsthand.

"Maybe I'm still here because of some unfinished earthly business, and maybe that's making my peace with you and Arthur. Or maybe there is no afterlife, and this is all there is." Lewis' hand slipped free of Arthur's hair and returned to hers, caging in the small shape of it with his long, thick fingers. "I guess I'm scared of that too, but I don't want to..."

He paused for a moment, composing his thoughts and watching the bleary rise and fall of Arthur's chest. "I don't want to get so wrapped up with worrying that we don't enjoy the time we have."

"No, you're abso-fruit-ly right," Vivi sniffled, arching her shoulder so she could nuzzle her damp eyes into the sleeve of her shirt and wipe them of the moisture they'd generated.

As she made liberal use of her shirt, Lewis softened and gathered his own cuff over the edge of his palm. Hauling her in with one arm, reassuringly solid and not at the same time, he dabbed the material against her cheek and fell to cradling it with one hand when the threatening waterline had abated.

"Jeez, c'mere. What's this for, bluebirds don't cry," he teased gently, as if his own eyes hadn't been sheened up with emotion a few minutes ago.

Vivi giggled softly. There was no guarantee of anything, let alone the time she and Arthur had with Lewis, and if they spent it worrying and considering morbid and depressing what-ifs, then it would take away from any good feelings that surrounded their regrouping. As sad as everything was, they needed to stay in a 'happy' (or somewhat happy, all things given) mind-frame.

Exhaling, she squeezed Lewis' large fingers and figured that a change of subject was in order. "Soooo…is there anything you wanna talk about? Anything you're curious about? I know we've been mostly working out our issues, but I'm thinking it might be best to talk about random stuff right now. And you know me," she paused, changing her voice so that it sounded more like a royal proclamation: "I'm the Queeeen of Random."

"Random. Yeah, that's you. I... I don't know if it's necessarily more cheerful, but hey, catch me up on stuff," he encouraged as his hand fell back to her lap, draped loosely against her grip. "How's the shop, how's..." He hesitated, tongue catching. "... do you still see my family?"

And please tell me they're okay.

Vivi had drawn closer at the contact Lewis initiated - as close as she could without disturbing the sleeping pile of sickly-sick in her lap, anyway. She was fully prepared to initiate some grade A cuddles, but…then Lewis asked about his family, and she wasn't sure whether to feel guilty or glad she'd suggested they talk about other stuff.

"Weeeell," she started, going with the less painful of the two. "The shop's good. We recently finished some renovations. Tim expanded the back and made it bigger, which is totally sweet considering how popular the shop's gotten over time."

Lewis' smile was easy and automatic, or at least read better now that he had an actual mouth to manipulate. Only so much could be inferred from body posture, the cant of his eyes or shoulders.

"Yeah? He'd been talking about that for years, even before, well..."

He gestured loosely to himself, well and truly deceased. Still, Lewis had spent enough time bumming around Tome Tomb to a vested interest in both the employees and the business, even if realistically he probably would never see it again. Unless they wanted it haunted, anyway.

Vivi nodded. "I know. Hopefully it'll bring in more people." Ho'kay. Time for the sadawkwardprobablygonnahurtpart. "I saw your family before Arthur and I last left town. Everyone's doing great. Your sister actually just got married. I wasn't there or anything, but from how your mom was describing the wedding it sounded like one heck of a shindig."

She paused and squeezed his hand before she continued on with the familial update.

"You're an uncle, too. Your brother's wife had a baby about a year ago. She's soooo cute, Lew. You'd really love her."

Lewis sobered as Vivi provided details about his family, which was extensive enough that he commended anyone who tried to even keep track of it, much less in contact with them all. Of course Vivi had. It was Vivi.

Still and all, people were getting married, having babies. He'd been on the very cusp of his adult life when he'd died, mulling over whether he had any inclination to some day settle down and adopt the domestic lifestyle. Maybe in five years, maybe in ten. Now, never. Some day Vivi might still want these things for herself, but it could never be with him.

Lewis sighed and leaned against her with so much lax muscle that he nearly seemed to dissolve. Even the individual strands of his hair had gone a bit blurry and more amorphous, like it was taking too much mental effort to keep the details finely tuned.

"Wish I could see her. I... I guess they probably don't remember me either, though."

That was a good thing. Really. He wanted them spared that pain, and even now there would be no way to explain it to them. All the same, there was a particular sting of loneliness in being forgotten by your own family. He rubbed the heel of a free hand tellingly at one eye, sniffled, then settled it back into Arthur's hair with a sigh.

"A-alright. Maybe that's enough updating." He angled himself enough to press a kiss to Vivi's shoulder, right at the shirt's collar where it gave way to the pale curve of her neck. "You should get some shut-eye while he's out, Bluebird. I can keep an eye on him."

Lewis' free arm tightened gently around her, a little sidelong hug, as if to clarify that she wasn't allowed to actually go anywhere. Right here, sharing a big, chaotic bed of too many limbs and too much body heat, as they always did. Arthur was still feverish enough to make up for what he lacked.

"It's better for me to stay awake. Artie usually has more than one nightmare a night," Vivi countered, grunting a little as she repositioned and pushed her torso upward enough so that it didn't disturb Arthur, but let her move. "And besides. Someone's gotta make sure you stay out of trouble, LewBear."

The falling shape of Lewis' smile returned, wan but genuine, as she fussed him back into obedience. He turned into the cup of her hand, the opacity of his skin slowly obscuring her fingers from sight once more. She'd always been a good distraction, even on the one-in-a-blue-moon occasions he was in a bad mood when alive. It never seemed to last long when he was with friends.

"Pretty sure it's my job to keep you out of trouble, just straight up waking into haunted and mansions and all," he teased in return. He didn't know where he'd be if she hadn't walked into this one.

"Hah. Good luck with that one."

With the new leverage her recent change in position granted, Vivi was able to brush their noses together - something that she feared she'd never be able to do again. Sure, she loved his nose (like, loved-loved his nose) but who didn't find an eskimo kiss absolutely adorable? She sure did.

"N'awww. It's just as lovable as I remember it," she teased, nuzzling the buttony bulb of her pixie nose against his defined Roman arch.

Lewis' features scrunched up playfully as she angled her nose against his, rubbing just hard enough to compress the shape slightly.

"Hey," he protested, with a quiet ripple of laughter that echoed back on itself, as if he were speaking into a small, contained void that only reflected his own voice. He pulled back just enough to itch a forefinger against the defined arch of his nostrils, settling them with a sniff.

"Watch it, you'll set it off," he chuckled, before returning both arms to the loose frame of her torso and Arthur's shoulder, and resting his head against her.

Yeah. This was nice.

TBC

[TaurielRiver]

Eeeeeeee, thank youuuu, best start to my weekend ever!!

I feel just the teeny tiiinyest bit guilty for continually enjoying all this hurty-comforty-emotional wonderfullness the gang are going through, but I can’t help it, it’s so good!! And in between feels, I am a sucker for all these adorable moments of relief like “Okay. Man (ghost) up.”, and "I didn't get a Handbook of the Recently Deceased or anything." Hehehe… ghost humour… it works!!

And Vivi’s “you're abso-fruit-ly right,"… aww, awww awww… so touching and gorgeous, so glad Lewis is there to bring her smile back (…and wipe her eyes… oh my heart, this thing you do with it! )

You bring up a very good point though, about Lewis potentially moving on or crossing over… who knows if that’s a possibility or what would even trigger it. It would indeed be bittersweet if getting closure with his best friends could also result in leaving them, but yes, that’s a legitimate prospect to consider...

And one last thingy… Bluebird… LewBear… I just can’t tell you how happy-melty-gooey I get over nicknames. I love them!!!

[bangbang]

I juuuust discovered this and now I am screeching inwardly and kicking my heels for the next part. I AM GREEDY OK

Things I loved -

- Artie is all nervous and freaked out by the house which HELLO who wouldn't be? The portrait hissing that his coughing was repulsive was hilarious but also made me feel teeerrrrible for him. The poor anxious chesty baby.

- nope nope nope cannot deal with all the strangled affection as they try and come to terms with what happened. When Lewis called him his murderer I literally inhaled so hard I choked. And then forcing himself into a different form and TALKING about FEELINGS and urrgh why is this sort of angsty comfort so excellent?

- Vivi is amazing and perfect and I want to hang out with her. I will go ghost hunting with you, Vivi!

- the image of Lewis suspended on those stalagmites and then stewing over the whole incident for years afterwards is haunting me. Sorry for the pun (I am one thousand percent not sorry for the pun)

- nooo his sneezing fits make me clench up. They're so fast and breathless and I want to HUG HIM

- I love that he identifies the animal ghost and gets a freaking ghostie BFF himself. The line about the entourage made me giggle.

- I srsly love different formatting when it's used like this, like bold and all caps and how MURDERER was huge and green because it is emphatic and descriptive and I cannot do it to save my life.

I basically read Mystery Skulls as a sort of weird original fiction piece because although I enjoyed the video I did not understand it at all until you explained it to me (I didn't realise he was possessed, did not get the fact that it was a metal arm [i thought it was a weird jacket sleeve do not ever trust me with anything] and honestly I still do not get Mystery [is he a dog? A were dog? Why does he have sunglasses and look cooler than me]) but GOD I enjoy it.

That was a very long sentence. But yeah! I will read outside a fandom for very few people and you and Garnet are two people I will ALWAYS devour content from regardless. I love it and I can't wait for the next (and last, boooo) part.

Edited February 2, 2015 by bangbang