The last few years had been busy for Shannon Ramsey.

In a sad state of affairs, a young girl by the name of Allison Davies had passed away several years prior and she did so in the presence of a lot of children even younger than her; including Shannon’s own youngest daughter Mei. It only made sense for the parents to send the kids to be psychoanalysed and see if they were struggling, in trouble or in a dark place. Soon after, the town itself spiraled and more and more bad things seemed to happen. Although she felt awful for the Davies family and the wider Edenridge populace in general, Shannon couldn’t help but be appreciative of the income she was currently making, especially since her elder daughter Reagan was attending medical school which was not cheap. More recently; somebody had been sending letters to the townsfolk, letters that stirred unresolved feelings and posed unanswerable questions.

She remembered when she first started as an intern herself that the office she now owns. The town was in the midst of another pandemic at the time. A new craze had taken over, with the children of the town invoking the names of Edenridge killers of yore like Nathaniel Carlisle, BT and the Hangman. Her mind drifted to this memory for a singular reason, her next client; Penelope James. Poppy was a good girl from all accounts, a rarity for the Southsider but she came from good stock. Shannon knew her father Sylvester very well. The reason she worried for Poppy however was because of the company she kept. If teens were to call upon the names of murderers once more, then there was most certainly only one name that would be on Penelope’s lips; Charlie Decker.

Hearing the ringing of a doorbell; Shannon got up to her feet and straightened out her smart skirt before walking towards the office door. She would recognize the strong silhouette on the other side anywhere. She got herself into character before opening up.

“Hey there.”

With his always ready broad smile, Police Lieutenant Sly and his gentle eyes examined the woman standing before him. In seemingly good spirits, though she would know better (it was the mask he wore in front of his child), he greeted, “Shannon, it’s good to see you.” As he moved his stance ever so slightly to let Penelope through, he praisingly observed, “You never seem to age, do you?” It was clear they had a past and to this day the dashing doof found a way to slip in flattery compliments.

“Well thank you, Sylvester. I do try.”

He and Shannon— they were highschool sweethearts with a complicated ending. To be honest, the fact that she accepted Penelope as a client certainly did surprise the man, but he wasn’t going to question it. Neither he or Victoria had time to drive to Boston and find Penelope a therapist. Shannon was the best in the area and he trusted her. She likely couldn’t say the same with him, but a paying customer was a paying customer, right?

Still, Sly wasn’t one to brood and think of the past. If he did, he would break from the thought of all he lost. It was his job to heal his wife and his daughters. It was his job to protect the town and show southsiders that they can strive for more, like he and Victoria did. That they can survive and make something out of themselves. That they can be happy.

So here he was, trying to aid his daughter in finding her footing after all the heartbreak he had caused. Against Victoria’s wishes, Sly sat down with his ex and started this arrangement because he believed his daughter had so much more to offer and if anyone was going to bring that out it would be Shannon.

“Dad.”

Here’s to hoping he was right.

“Dad.”

“Yes, Penelope?” Bringing his attention from Shannon to his child, Sly was taken aback when he looked straight into his daughter’s determined gaze. Something he hadn’t seen in a long while. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, just wanted to say thank you. For this.” Penelope gestured toward Shannon’s office, which was her way of describing all that her father has done for her thus far. “I know I don’t tell you often, if at all, but I do appreciate you.”

Conflicted, yet proud, Sly pulled his youngest daughter with his arm and gave her a quick, affectionate embrace, while slipping a kiss on her forehead. “Anytime, kiddo.” He wanted to hold onto her words, but deep down, he still knew she hadn’t forgiven him for Charlie’s death. At least, she was talking. This, he would be happy about. He didn’t want her thanks or her appreciation, though. All he wanted was her to be okay.

“I should leave you two to do your thing,” Sly cleared his throat, a little embarrassed after noticing the sharp, attentive stare his ex was giving him, “...Good luck,” He absentmindedly stepped back, dismissing himself (not comfortable in showing his vulnerable side), “Call me if you need me.”

Shannon brushed back her long black hair and smiled. Irregardless of any personal feelings and the past that they shared, she always had the utmost respect for Sly for how he turned his life around and for the man he had become. When they were together, he was a rough and tumble serpent ready to take on the world: a typical Southsider. Yet now he stood before her as one of the few honest police officers on the force, a hero of the town and a good father to boot…plus he was wearing the hell out of those jeans.

“You can trust me. We’re gonna have a good day, right Poppy?” She waved off her ex and closed the door behind him. “Ok Pops, grab yourself a seat, relax for a minute and we’ll get started. You want something to drink?” Shannon asked as she moved towards her mini fridge. “I got some sodas, juice or alternatively I can get my assistant to run out and get some coffee or tea from Rochambeau?” Shannon had done this a million times before; she knew how to make someone at ease in her presence. She was disarming in her manner; apple pie sweet, a soft but firm voice. She was powerful yet graceful in her movement. “Or if you just want to get to the nitty gritty, we can do that too.”

Watching the door close in front of her father, Penelope allowed herself to get pulled into the den that forced her to acknowledge the two wolves, her two selves, that burned inside her. Charlie had told her an ancient Cherokee tale, where a grandfather tells his grandson about the two wolves fighting within each and every one of us. Everyone has a fight going on inside of them, whether it’s anger and peace or arrogance and humility, there is a raging battle going on.

The victor?

‘The one you feed,’ the grandfather said.

Shuffling her feet to the chaise lounge chair, Penelope plopped onto it and shook her head, “Nah, I’m good. Big mama wouldn’t let me leave until I drank all my OJ and ate my grits…” Shifting her hands to her face mask, Poppy pulled it down, which was an improvement from a year ago when she was diagnosed with agoraphobia. She was still an anxious, little thing but whatever she experienced last night seemed to be helping her take the steps she needed to handle social situations again. If not large group settings then certainly intimate one on ones.

With red eyes, having cried herself to sleep, and dark circles, Penelope’s green eyes appeared strikingly vivid, invoking pain and hope. Not only did her sleep deprivation cause her irises to stand out, but the sunlight peering in from the large casement windows highlighted her in the most angelic of ways. “What do you want to talk about? I can’t be here for a full hour... I got plans.”

“Plans?”

Now there was something Shannon wasn’t expecting to hear. Poppy was terrified to leave her room let alone make plans with someone; and the girl wasn’t a liar so she knew that she was telling the truth. Something had changed. Had it changed for the better? That was still to be determined. She moved over to her seat just opposite Penelope and sat down. Pulling her notepad and pen from the energy draw, Shannon’s chestnut eyes fell onto the surviving James girl before she spoke once more.

“What plans have you got Penelope? I’m curious.”

“Mordechai.” The young girl said matter-of-factly, replaying her friend’s words from last night. Even if he wasn’t here, she didn’t want to disrespect him by calling him a name his dead brother used to call him more often than not. “He’s back,” she elaborated, as she turned her gaze to the window, “And he has a family.” There was a subtle emphasis on the last word, with more meaning than she herself realized. A sensitive word, constantly in the back of her subconscious.

After a moment of silence, Penelope absentmindedly rubbed her hands on her jeans, feeling the texture and friction. When she looked back at the therapist, she shrugged, “He wants me to meet them.”

“Interesting.” Shannon scribbled some notes onto her pad before raising her eyes to meet Poppy’s once more. Eye contact was a big thing to pursue when it came to her. It showed that someone actually saw Penelope and she wasn’t just the wraith of a human she had wished to be since the unfortunate events surrounding Charlie Decker took place. “And to use that old cliche; how does that make you feel?” She posed. “It’s my understanding that you were his family. You, Jade…Charlie?”

Shannon tilted her head ever so slightly. Charlie had been a constant theme when it came to her talks with Penelope. She didn’t know the boy personally other than the passing mentions that Mei had made over the intervening years. She remembered his mother during high school: Rhonda. It was a shame what happened to her; in some ways she was a great parallel Poppy. They were very similar in so many ways.

“Are.” Penelope corrected without hesitation. Her gaze sharpened at the mention of Charlie. “We are family.” It didn’t matter that Mordechai left without saying ‘see you later’ or ‘goodbye’. It didn’t matter that he had a child and didn’t let anyone know until now. It didn’t matter he was part of the reason Charlie got pushed to the edge. Scars cut deep. She knew that. He lost his purpose. His little brother. And she knew, he blamed himself. After last night, it’s come to light that they all blamed themselves for Charlie’s downfall and Danny’s death.

As she wrinkled her nose, Penelope slipped her hands into the opposite sleeves so that her hands were no longer visible to the eye. Fidgeting was something she did often as she sat down talking about feelings. Therapy was uncomfortable, especially with someone who considered herself as a professional yet never came across as someone who understood what southsiders went through - always the critic, never the teacher. Penelope didn’t think this was working. She showed up for her parents. And for Jade. She showed up, in hopes to ‘get better’ but still, the walls were up.

How could she trust her therapist? Deep down, Shannon Ramsey would never know how it feels to be stuck on the south of the trackside. Deep down, Shannon pitied her. Deep down, Shannon believed her friends chose to react to their shitty circumstances poorly, instead of being a boulder like Sylvester James, who pulled himself out of the dark. Shannon judged them for not having enough strength to do that.

Most southsiders became exactly what people perceived them to be. Northsiders could offer a lifeboat, but instead they chose to watch the damned drown. It’s just how things are, it’s how things always have been. In all honesty, it took people like Beau, who didn’t judge where you came from, who didn’t project his opinions, and who didn’t force anything onto you, to see your worth.

That all aside, how does meeting Mordechai’s family make her feel? “I’m happy for him. He has a reason to live,” she smiled to herself at the positive prospect of her friend being a father and the hope that what he has could only mean good for him. Her eyes grew distant at the thought of her never having a family with Charlie.

Family.

That word weighed heavily on her.

“He’s been through a lot so to hear he has unconditional love in his life- of course that makes me happy.”

Shannon polished off her coffee as she listened to Poppy’s feelings. She truly was a broken person. Her phrasing very much portrayed the idea that Penelope did not feel as unconditionally loved as her compatriot. In previous sessions it had become clear that the young girl clung to the last breath of a memory, not uncommon by any stretch. The problem was the memory was a dark one; one most Edenridge residents would rather forget.

“Let’s shift gears a little,” The therapist turned the page of her notepad and put pen to paper once again. “The letters.” Shannon spoke somewhat bluntly. “Where are you with all that? What does seeing Charlie’s words, his innermost thoughts, what does that do to you? How does it make you feel?”

With dull eyes, Penelope listened to the questions that she knew were coming. It would be unlike her therapist to not bring up the letters that her childhood friend wrote. There seemed to be a pattern with these sessions and usually they led to Charlie because it didn’t take a brain surgeon to see that he was all Penelope could think of. “I’d like to think I was the closest person to him, so it’s not so much his words that have put me in a weird place.”

Poppy freed her hands from Charlie’s hoodie’s sleeves, getting increasingly annoyed at the thought of Charlie’s journal. “It’s no one’s goddamn business what he wrote. Shit like that is sacred. I don’t care what anyone has to say about him, they will never know him like I did. And seriously, it’s all just stupid. You do NOT fuck with the dead.” It really did blow Penelope’s mind how evil people were, even defiling Charlie’s grave. Did they think that made them a better person for cursing an already dead person? What did that accomplish besides make them assholes? Charlie already dug his grave and they were just showing exactly why he did what he did.

There are no saints in Edenridge.

If people actually paid attention in history class, they would know this place was damned the moment Nathanial Carlisle claimed the land as his own, corrupting all things that were spiritual and good. “How about you? How do you feel about all this? Clearly, Charlie’s words hold more weight than people gave him credit for. Props to Mei for punching ReyRey right in the face last night. Takes a lot of balls to do that.” Perhaps instead of checking on other kids of Edenridge, Shannon should be checking on her daughter.

Shannon bit her tongue and held in her emotions; it was technique she had taught her eldest daughter well but perhaps not so much her younger one, if Penelope’s words were to be believed. As it often did, the invocation of Charlie Decker’s name prompted the highest emotional response from her. Every other session that they held together always ended the same way, the topic of a boy who made an ill fated decision which resulted in heartache for an entire community.

The day itself was etched in Shannon’s memory. She had just gotten to her office when she got a call saying shots had been fired at the school. She jumped into a cab like so many other parents and made her way there. Her baby girl was there. For those few hours, Shannon’s logical mind was transformed into pure irrationality as she screamed, held back by police on the scene trying to get to Mei. She tried and tried to get hold of Will but he was out of state, doing a guest spot at another gym. She couldn’t believe it when she saw her little girl being carried out of the building by EMT’s with blood pouring from her neck. Followed by the near headless body of whom would later be identified as Quinton Woods. Mei was lucky that day and if Poppy’s words were to be believed, she was lucky again the previous night. Shannon did wonder if her little dove’s luck would soon run out; Mei lived a life without fear and she didn’t know how healthy that really was.

“I can respect your frustrations. Miss James and as far as my daughter goes, she’s old enough to make her own choices. Do I necessarily agree with them? Absolutely not. I’m her mother and I will always want what is best for her but you have to give someone space for them to truly find who they really are. She’s a big girl, what she does is what she does” The therapist glanced at the clock briefly before returning her attention to Poppy once more. “What Mei did was a risk and while we’re on the topic; you once told me that Charlie left you a book that you couldn’t open, have you managed to do so yet?”

Space. Look what that did to Charlie. No one noticed he was crying for help. There’s only so much space a child can endure until it seems like no one notices them. No one cares about them. While Penelope didn’t agree with coddling, she also did not think kids should have full reign over their adolescence lives. They still need guidance and support. They still need someone that takes time out of their busy schedule to show they are willing to listen to them and walk with them through their pain and struggle.

What would she know, though? She was a broken girl who cried over a dead boy that her father killed. A boy that scarred the town like no one else had done before. And yet, she still forgave him and loved him. “Why does that matter? It’s not going to have some secret note explaining why his mental health deteriorated. It isn’t going to give anyone enough explanation why he did the thing he did. It’s not going to give the feeling of justice because you, and everyone in this town, need someone to blame for the dark shit happening in this town even before he shot up the school.” Poppy paused at the last statement showing she isn’t a fool. She knew well enough that Charlie chose evil on his dying day. That doesn’t change she saw the good in him. He buried it with hate and she will not excuse his behavior but that doesn’t change how she feels about him. “I’m sure it’s just a book he wrote but never got the chance to publish.” No longer wanting to talk things out with her therapist that only judged her, Penelope stood up, expressing her desire to leave.

Shannon wasn’t like Beau. Her way of doing things was wrong and Penelope knew that this therapy thing wasn’t for her. It didn’t accomplish anything. Whether it’s her therapist’s method or therapy in general, Poppy did not think someone with such a northsider mentality would ever get it. “I’ll read it when I read it. Anyways, it’s been real.” She was over it. “I’m gonna go.”

Sighing through her nose, Shannon pushed up her glasses and placed her notepad back on the table. “I’d rather you not leave, Penelope, but if that’s what you want then the door is open.” She was no fool. She understood that Poppy was closer to this whole situation than anybody else. She was so wrapped up in the looming shadow of Charlie Decker that although she could see everybody else’s pain and acknowledge it, not much of anything other than her own hurt mattered.

There was no north side conspiracy against southsiders. Shannon was not ashamed of her own origins as a south sider. She never hid the fact and when she asked she would talk of the struggle openly but Shannon got out and she got out alive. She knew just how hard it could be and how dangerous the so-called curse affected people on that side of the tracks.

“I’ll see you next week, Miss James.”

“Yeah,” Emotionally unconnected to the woman in the room, nothing held Penelope back. Bonds weren’t made in a forced setting and the young girl made it clear she had her guard up with Shannon, even after a year. As she went to the door, without turning back, shifting her face mask back on her face, she whispered dismissively, “Sure.”

And with that, the youngest James was gone, with better things to do.

"Baby brother," a young Mordechai Boaz breathed out in awe as he stared at his new brother in his 'crib': a cardboard box with ratty blankets thrown in that Mordechai had done his best to make comfortable. "I'll stay with you. I'll protec' you."

The infant giggled in his sleep and Mordechai's responding smile caused his lip to break open again from his father's slap earlier, but he paid it no mind.

"I'll never leave you."

'I Promise.'



"-cky…"

The world was nothing but streaks and blurs of color as he slowly pulled himself from the darkness.

"-ecky. Wake u-"

The floor was cold and dirty, newspapers and rags strewn under and around him in a mock of comfort. The blankets were moldy.

"-cky come on."

The needle was itching from where it was still in his arm, and he reached blindly to take it out.

"Decky I'm serious, wake the fuck up!"

A slap against his cheek finally had him opening his eyes and lurching into a sitting position, hand going for the knife in his back pocket. He paused halfway there when the face before him finally solidified and came together in his vision. He then promptly turned to the side and got rid of what little food was in his stomach.

Before him sat Daniel Boaz, dressed in Mordechai's old beaten Serpent jacket that he had grown out of, a dark green t-shirt and gray jeans. Mordechai's old boots were on his feet.

Just like the day he died.

To wrap up the macabre little hallucination, if you looked past the curls that fell over his forehead, a small hole was right in the middle just above his brows.

Noticing his gaze, the younger boy's face twisted in embarrassment as he frantically brushed the curls with his fingers to cover more of his forehead. "S-sorry! I thought I had it covered up! But ya also shouldn't stare! S'rude!" The boy stuttered as Mordechai just stared with wide eyes.

"Wh...at?" Mordechai croaked.

"I said starin's rude. Ya taught me that keepin' your eyes down kept ya safe, 'member?"

Mordechai just stared.

"C'mon Decky-" the name made him flinch, and Danny's frown grew. "What? Why are you flinchin'? It's me." He sounded hurt, and that tone from him practically set fire to his previously put out brotherly instincts.

"N-no it's not you! I just haven't used that name since y-" he froze mid explanation as he realized what he was about to say, voice going quiet and shaky. "What is this?"

"Um…'m not exactly sure?" Danny sat back on his heels from where he'd been kneeling. "I just kinda woke up next to ya a lil' bit ago, been tryin'a wake ya up for a while now. Thought ya might've...y'know."

"...Oh," was the eloquent reply. "Um...well I didn't," he reassured weakly. "But I ain't sure m'not still trippin'."

"No no it's me!" Danny chirped excitedly. "It's not just me either! I think it was a lot of us, actually."

"A...lot of ya."

"Yeah! Y'know," he wiggled his fingers and made a spooky moaning noise. "the gravestone crew."

"Right…"

"Anyway! Where're Poppy an' Jade? And Sonny? I'm guessin' since you're usin' again you an' Lanie broke up, so maybe I'll visit her myself later, but I really wanna see everyone so- what are ya doin'?"

The phone was already up to Mordechai's ear, the ringing loud in the silent drug den as Danny stared at him petulantly.

Buried under a pile of clothes, Penelope’s phone began to ring a generic ringtone. She wasn’t one to go out of her way to find a ringtone for people, regardless of how close she was with them. There were folks that put sentimental value in actions like that, but she just saw her phone as a means to contact someone or be contacted. She wasn’t even a romantic and more often than not when people flirted with her, it went over her head. It did not help that she wasn’t looking for affection and nostalgia, either. Not since Charlie died.

Laying on the bed in a daze, not really aware if she fell asleep or not or if she had been staring at the ceiling the whole night, Poppy grumbled to herself when the insufferable ring resonated in her bedroom. Sluggishly, she picked herself up and scanned her room, which was slowly but surely returning to a healthy and clean state, with clothes folded on her bed, belongings and books in their designated areas, and the sight of the floor once more. Still, she had a few piles of clothes to deal with, one pile to donate, one pile to toss, and another pile of ‘maybes’ that her sister would be great at convincing her what to toss and what to keep.

Following the sound, crawling on her knees, she dug in one of the piles, with mild struggle. After making the other person wait for a few seconds, she mutterily answered the line, not checking who it was on the other side, “Hello?”

"Pops thank god, I think I'm fuckin' losin' it here," Mordechai answered in a rush as he struggled to stand up, freezing when he felt the hallucination of his brother helping him. "I-I think my last hit was laced or somethin' cause I'm seeing Boychik and he just helped me fuckin' stand up." He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, feel his blood heating in his veins as his nerves went alright in panic.

"It's not a hallucination, Decky!" Danny cried from where he threw his older brother's arm over his shoulder. "It's really me, come on!"

He clenched the phone tighter and let out a small whimper. "It's so fuckin' real Pops."

“What are you on about?” Poppy rubbed her face, contemplating how early it was or late. What time was it even? Well, regardless if the sun was up or not, none of that mattered. Her friend was having a mental breakdown. “Do you need me to come over? Are you—” She hadn’t even registered half of the things Decky said, but she did hear a small voice on the other line. “—Do you have someone over?”

Boychik.

“or are you just missing Danny?” After picking herself up, Penelope put her phone on speaker, followed up by placing it on her bed. As she waited for Mordechai’s response, she stretched her arms, legs, and body, not knowing if this was a moment she should panic and rush to his street or be calm, cool, and collected, because he needed that from her. There was no point in having two people freaking the fuck out because of anxiety or grief or whatever mental issues they both had.

"I'm always missin' 'im Pops, I'm just usually not seein' 'im too."

“Jesus woman; after everything you still don’t lock your window? You’re a mad bitch, Poppy.”

Charlie Decker tumbled through the open sash window as he had done from the age of five until the day he died when he was eighteen. He crashed down to the floor as he always did, never understanding how tall and lanky he actually was. Every single time he entered the window he caught his stupid big feet.

He hadn’t aged a day; he looked exactly like he did on that awful day all those years ago, save one thing; the leather jacket that now hung on the back of Penelope’s desk chair. His jet black hair was loose over his face and his fingers were adorned with rings (Decker did like his hot topic bling). His black jeans and Doc Martens were a little bit dirty and his faded band t-shirt was stained with likely cream cheese. As he sprang back up to his full height, Charlie’s face scrunched up as he caught wind of a foul stench.

“It smells like ass in here.” He wandered over to the bed and took a seat on the edge. “Is that…? Stale bagels? How could you waste such a gift?”

In times like these, people had three responses. Fight. Flight. Or Freeze. The voice she had heard come from the window had grown faint over the last year, but still she could remember it like it was yesterday. With wide eyes, she eyed the boy in front of her and the first thing her mind could think of was…

Slap!

Caught up in a nightmare or a dream, Penelope was quick to grab her phone and not take in the boy that should be dead. Instead, she ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and ran into her sister’s room. In complete denial, she convinced herself there was a stranger in her room.

“Uhhhh…. M-mordechai.” As if seeing Charlie wasn’t painful enough, her older sister came out of the closet holding some of her untouched, lonesome clothes.

“You guys seriously haven’t touched anything here. Nothing’s changed, aside from the occasional dust bunnies. Poppy, where's my blue dress? You know the one you wore junior year when you wanted to confess—”

Max…

“MORDECHAI!” Alarms setting off, the first thing Poppy thought of was where the nearest firearm was. Her dad had them hidden throughout the house but the nearest would be her parents' room. Mad dashing, she bolted out of one room, going down the hall, and entering the other, locking the door. Why did her parents have to be at work now?!

Swiftly she searched her mom’s dresser until she found the revolver, as she did so she instructed her friend, “We need to meet. Now. Whatever you caught is spreading. I, I’m seeing… what the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream.” Taking the gun off of its safety, there was a moment where Poppy contemplated shooting herself. That would force herself to wake up but instead she heard a sound and pointed the gun straight to where it was coming from.

Charlie stood by the door with his hands raised. The side of his face was red raw after Poppy’s slap. “I wouldn’t do that, Poppy. Getting shot isn’t as painless as the movies make it seem,” He offered her a smile, a soft one that only she was ever privy to. “You’re not crazy. You’re not dead. I’m here. Max is here too. I don’t have all the details but something has gone wrong and well, I’m here to help.”

There was probably some rational explanation; Charlie didn’t have it at that moment though. He was like a newborn babe, experiencing the world, the warmth and the light for the first time. Yet he remembered everything. He remembered the smell of bagels, the constant tears of his mother, the words of Keats and the way he felt about Penelope James. Even in death or afterlife or wherever the hell he was, his heart always belonged to her. He took several steps forward and placed his hands on either side of her cheek.

“I had to come back to you, whilst I’ve got the chance.”

“Fuck.” As much as Penelope was a fighter by heart, with Charlie or his ghost, she felt the storm inside of her come to a calm. Dropping the arm that held the revolver, she put it back into safety mode, gazing at him with only conflict in her eyes. None of this made any logical sense. There was no rationality behind any of this and the fact that she could feel… his hands felt cold. Still, how could she know this was indeed Charlie Decker? The ghost showed no ill intent as she stood there before him in her pajamas, not an uncommon thing while he was alive.

Part of her wanted to give in, but the part that won, for now, pulled her back, cautious and afraid. “You… you don’t get to do that. Fuck. I need a cigarette.” Stepping back to put distance between her and her dead first love, Penelope spoke into her phone, “Meet me at our spot. Make sure everyone else is okay… bring Danny.”

Then her line went dead.

Mordechai had already begun a stumbling dash out of the den, calling uselessly back to Poppy as she called his name, her tone more distressed each time. He could have sworn he'd heard- but no, it couldn't be! Danny was keeping up with him, and that's another hint towards it being a hallucination because Danny could never keep up with his sprint when he was alive. He almost came to a complete standstill in the middle of the street when she said she'd caught his hallucinations. And, is that a thing, is that possible? But then Charlie's voice was back and Mordechai straight up tripped over his own feet and face planted into the street, Danny's sympathetic hiss loud in his ears. He took a moment to breathe and swallow back the bile threatening to rise in his throat, and then he grabbed up his phone- and the screen is cracked even more, great- just in time for her to summon him-them-to their spot. He didn't even get a chance to respond before she hung up, and he was left staring dumbly down the street with his phone still held to his ear.

"Soooo," Danny piped up from behind him, rocking back and forth on his heels and toes with his hands behind his back. "We get to go see Poppy?"

Silence. Mordechai turned to stare blankly at his baby brother, waiting for an answer to fall into his lap. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reached out to the boy. Danny happily took advantage of the outstretched arm and ducked under it, latching around Mordechai's torso and smashing his face into his chest. The older of the two stiffened, breath hitching and hands twitching uselessly before he practically melted, folding over his baby brother and holding him tight.

"What the hell is this?" He breathed, his voice cracked and wavering.

"I don't know, but 'm not exactly upset either." Danny whispered into his chest, not letting go. Even with the changes-he's so cold, he feels solid but it's still like I'd slip through if I pushed hard enough, his chest ain't movin' 'cause he's not fuckin' breathin'- hugging Danny was like coming home in the best of ways.

Marco seldom tuned into Mei’s podcast...thing, but as of late, he found himself doing a lot that he hadn’t normally. Not in a long time had Marco truly felt despair knock itself boldly at his door, screaming at him like the wails of anguish that he could remember screeching when Charlie Decker shot him. Those immediate thoughts came flooding back after a bad dream, those thoughts that plagued him in those first weeks in the hospital after he got his surgery. They plagued him like an illness that sapped just about every single light he had to spare.

And they were why he was up almost every night, kicking ass at whatever online game he could get his hands on. Some nights he dove head-first into Call of Duty. Some nights it was League of Legends. It always changed depending on his mood, but for some reason, unlike previous times where he’d just let himself get lost in mindless action, Marco was laying in bed on his side (the leg he got shot in facing up). He laid there on his side, his Bose headphones in and he listened to Mei Midnight speak.

Admittedly, Marco may have tuned her out at some parts. He was drifting into a partial slumber, his eyes heavy as he felt the chill of his fan hit him every three seconds as it blew the cold air around his room. He didn’t have his blanket on so he felt the chills start at his toes and go all the way up to his hair. It felt nice and as he drifted off into a dream, Marco heard a voice.

Marco...Marco…

It was haunting and it kept calling out to him. The voice sounded strikingly masculine but also, as it kept calling to him, beckoning him with misty strings of light, he felt an air of familiarity within it. Not only was the light reaching to him familiar, but there was something about the way that that voice made him feel. It was confident and comforting. It didn’t just call his name but it was patient in how it waited for Marco to acknowledge it.

Around him was nothing. Around Marco was something. He couldn’t tell what it was. He glanced around in all directions. There wasn’t light nor was there darkness, yet he clearly saw the light yellow hues of light that the voice seemed to originate from. It was the only color that he could make out.

And he started to walk towards it.

Correction. Marco limped towards it.

As he walked, he felt a cold breeze touch his skin, which immediately had him shiver, reaching behind him and a black hoodie that he always wore seemed to appear and he slipped it on. No longer feeling the wind hit him in such an extreme way, Marco continued down the path the yellow mist was guiding him to. As he did, he heard sounds that felt like the revving of an engine. He couldn’t see anything, but suddenly he was able to do more than limp. Suddenly Marco felt himself able to run at speeds that he only dreamed of running.

And as he ran, the thoughts of despair came back. He couldn’t stop them just as he couldn’t stop himself from running; similarly, he couldn’t stop himself from getting shot.

All my fault, he kept telling himself. It was all his fault. Being out there after the bell rang. Being out there after knowing the bell had rang.

You didn’t know.

He heard that voice say and a wave of grief long since past came over him.

Of course I did!

Marco didn’t know what he was doing. He was carrying out a conversation as he ran, wind pressing against his face, his dark hair flowing back. And he was having a conversation with the voice of someone he didn’t know, yet something told him he did.

What sense did that make?

It wasn’t your fault!

So what? Now Marco was Matt Damon and this voice was Robin Williams? Was that even the right analogy?

Marco turned around, running in the complete opposite direction. And as he ran, he took a few lefts, effortlessly turning as he maintained the right speed. Before, he felt like he was running on what he assumed was a sensation similar to asfalt, but now he heard echoes -- echoes of his feet.

ClickclickTaptap

And another turn.

And then another and then Marco’s footsteps made no noise -- none that were as audible as before. Now they were muffled, like the brushing of blades of glass when hit by the wind.

Marco Brady finally came to a stop and what was a blissful feeling not experiencing any pain in his leg, suddenly it was so intense, Marco fell to the ground as he held his left leg from the ankle. There was a warm sensation. It was agonizing. Surging through his entire body was a pain that was more than physical. As he started to cry out, Marco yelled:

“Help!”

But there wasn’t anyone.

“Help!” He cried out again, this time screeching at it.

“Nobody is here, Marco.”

There was that voice again, but this time he couldn’t hear them in his head. The voice didn’t echo like before, but rather, as he looked up in the middle of trying not to pass out from the torture he was enduring through, he saw the shadow of someone.

“Who are you?” He asked.

The person had clapped slowly, their form slowly revealing itself. “Who am I? Do you really need to ask that, Marco?” Their question, though it was soon answered, they stepped forward and Marco soon found himself with more questions than he began with.

“You’re —”

“That’s right,” they said, smiling, “I’m you. Or what you could have been.”

Shaking his head, Marco suddenly didn’t feel excruciating discomfort in his leg. It was just the normal discomfort that had him forever limping. “This can’t be happening. This is all a dream…”

“Is it?”

With a gesture, the other Marco smiled and soon the devoid of color that Marco thought he was running in was to be revealed that he was back at the school. Specifically, Marco was in the soccer field and where he stood was exactly where he was shot.

And now he was even more confused than ever. Was it a dream? Was this real? MArco was on his bed listening to Mei’s stream. She talked about...she talked about -- oh, God what was it again? The elder tree or something like that? He wished he didn’t drift off when she was supposed to be explaining the origin of that tree or that he knew more about it.

Every inch of Marco’s mind right now was being spent trying to figure out he was looking at a fit version of himself, brandishing a soccer/Eruopean football uniform and he was on the ground, no longer in immense pain like the cripple he always felt like. Nevermind the fact that he thought he was running, but as he looked behind him, his brother’s truck was there, parked at an angle no less than three feet from where he was laying on the ground. How was any of this possible? Was he dreaming or was he awake and just couldn’t process any of it?

“So if this is all real--”

“Never said that--”

“Okay,” Marco said, getting annoyed a bit with his other, better-looking self. “If this is a dream--”

“I didn’t say that either.”

Marco narrowed his eyes at himself. Just looking at him made him confused and everything that was happening was enough to make him seriously consider checking himself into a mental institution, because it was clear as day that he was going insane if he was having a conversation with himself as he laid on the surprisingly lukewarm grass.

“So then what is going on? If this isn’t real and it isn’t a dream, then what?!” Marco’s voice got a bit intense as he slammed his fists on the ground.

“Marco, it’s alright, okay? I’m not here to cause you confusion or anything close to that. I’m here because there’s something you need to get off your chest.”

“I think I’d know if I needed to get something off my chest,” he retorted back, mumbling something inaudible under a fake cough.

The Other Marco raised his eyebrow at him and knelt down. Marco looked at him with an uncharacteristic jealousy at how easily he was able to do that without groaning. “You are here for a reason. Tonight didn’t happen because you were feeling blue. I know you because I am you. I know you have moments where you can’t keep it together for the people who love you. I know this because I am a projection of your psyche. As I said, I am what you wished you could be, but do you want to know something, Marco?”

Marco tried not to scowl, but he kept his eyes on the other him. “What? You’re going to rub it in my face that I could have been walking if I wasn’t out in this field practicing?”

The Other Marco stared at him, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. “No. I’m here so you can tell me why you still think that was ever your fault to begin with. I’m here so you can say things that you can’t to those you wish you could.”

“Such as?”

“Such as Danny Belmonte. Such as Charlie Decker. Such as everyone you feel looks down on you because you are -- what did you call it? Cripple Castillo?” There was a laugh from the Other Marco and he earned a scathing glare in response. “Remember--”

“Yes, I know. You’re me, so you’re laughing at my--”

“--Our--”

“Right. Our pain.”

It took Marco a few minutes to think. In that time, he saw his other self standing there patiently. That was something they didn’t have in common, so maybe he was a version of himself that he wished he could be. Deep down, he knew everything that perfect version of himself said was the truth. He had a list of things he wished he could say to Danny. He wished he could tell his ex how he truly felt and how he wished they could be together like they used to, but in public as well as private. He wished he could corner Charlie Decker, make him look him in the eye and ask him why he decided to shoot everyone. He wished he could walk without having to limp half the time. MArco wanted so desperately to be able to live that dream.

But he couldn’t. Damn. Damn. Damn!

Why was tonight so special? And why, of all things, did some projection of what he wished he could be show themself to him?

“So what am I supposed to do? Just start listing things? Is that how this process works?” Marco asked as he stood up. The pain surged through his body and his other self held him steady with their arms until Marco was able to support himself. “Well what am I supposed to do? What should I say? Tell you how I hate this. How much I…” As he hesitated, his lip began to quiver and he bit it just hard enough to stop himself from succumbing to the breakdown he knew was well on its way. “...How much I fucking hate being a burden to everyone? Is that what you want me to say?”

The Other Marco stood there, looking at MArco. Watching him lean forward and his hand holding his left calf to keep himself from falling over. The pressure was on his right leg so it didn’t cause immense pain in his bum one. In his eyes, he could feel the feeble Marco’s anguish in every word he spoke, the way his voice cracked with emotion. It hurt him because it hurt Marco; and because Marco hurt, he didn’t have the words to provide him with an answer.

Of course, The Other Marco knew that he felt this because he was Marco. Even if he didn’t show it, he was a projection of Marco Brady’s mind. He was the hopes and dreams that Marco Brady still clung to. In his darkest thoughts, he was the light that brought comfort to him and when he needed a reason to get out of bed, more often than not, he was the one that Marco could visualize and everything would be okay. But of course, this only worked if he didn’t let himself drown in the despair that stemmed from the reality of what could never be.

The Other Marco was this reality that was no longer possible. Marco Brady wouldn’t be like how he was and that was a fact. Charlie Decker took that away from him. And it was Charlie Decker who..

“You need to let go, Marco. But in order to do this, you need to see one more person.”

“Another? Who?” Marco asked, his voice still ripe with emotion, his voice cracked and his eyes puffed up from him trying -- and failing -- to hold back a sob of tears. “Who else is there to see? I thought you were the only person I needed to see. Isn’t that what you said?”

The Other Marco shook his head. “I am the ghost of you, Marco. All the pain you feel, while it is phenomenal that you have made it so far, it is just the internal strife you confronted. What you must face before this night is done is face your external strife. The horror that you know you have to come face to face with, it’s closer than you think.”

“What does that even mean?”

Even though Marco’s plea was genuine, his other self smiled and pointed to his heart. He pointed still until his form faded in the same bright yellow smoke that presented itself to Marco when he thought he was asleep. And even when he was left alone, Marco was still confused about many things. What was happening tonight? What did this have to do with the Elder Tree? And what did his other self mean by the external horror?

He was so confused, but it was something. Marco had something to go off of, but he couldn’t do this on an empty stomach. Somehow, through all of that pseudo-running he did, he had literally worked up an appetite. Maybe it was real or maybe it wasn’t, but all he knew was he could go for a Reuben sandwich right about now.

After the initial shock of seeing her dead childhood friend and sister, Penelope allowed herself to suspend disbelief and accept whatever this was. She shooed her ghosts away to give her time to get ready. While Maxine discussed with Charlie her findings in the hallway, Poppy buried her overwhelming emotions to get ready.

Once she slipped on her jeans, her Neon Ether arcade shirt, and Charlie’s leather jacket, she went to her bed where she placed a few items she took out of her parents’ room (which were alongside some of her own items). Holster, check. Glock, check. Knife, check. Pepper spray, check. Binoculars, check. Flashlight, check. Lighter, check. Cigarettes, check. And last but not least, just in case, 2 walkie-talkies, check. If the dead were back, she wasn’t going to wait for something bad to happen to her. She was going to be prepared.

Penelope knew most of these items could be useless toward a ghost, but she wanted to be ready in the only way she knew how. Call it anxiety or paranoia but she knew that if the dead were back, it wasn’t only the dead that people wanted to desperately see. With her gear situated on her body and in her bag, she thought about what else she needed.

Snacks.

Opening the door to see both her first love and her sister, Poppy calmly commanded, “Kitchen.” Her hair was in a messy ponytail and there was only acceptance in her green eyes.

“Actually…” Maxine apologetically frowned. “I’m going to give you two some time together.”

“Wait what?” Was she hearing this correctly? Poppy hadn’t seen Maxine since freshman year and now that the dead were given a chance to rise from their graves or ashes, her sister didn’t want to be here? Didn’t want to be with her?

“Stop that.” Maxine placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders and squeezed them (it wasn’t easy, seeing how Charlie’s jacket was thick and big on Pop’s thin form). “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and that’s not it at all. Whatever is going on is unnatural and I want to cover as much ground as possible. To do that, we need to split. Hey, hey look at me.” Maxine grabbed her sister’s chin and angled her face toward her’s, slightly upward.

For Penelope, this felt all too real.

“I love you and I’ve missed you like crazy, okay? But as long as you have me close to your heart.” Maxine grabbed the teardrop necklace around her sister’s neck and smiled, “I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. Okay?”

“Okay…” Penelope felt her eyes water, but instead of letting herself cry she bit her cheeks. There was a brief moment of silence as the sisters stared at one another before Penelope added, “You too. I love and miss you too.”

“I know.” Giving each other one lasting embrace, Maxine faded away, never one to waste time. Swallowing her feelings, Penelope glanced over at Charlie, her heart dropping at the sight of him.

He was here.

He really was here.

“Kitchen, please.” She was not ready to give him more than a couple seconds to take her in, or maybe it was the other way around with her taking him in. Her heart could barely handle him at this distance. “What do you know?” Poppy asked as she rushed forward to their next destination.

Charlie wasn’t sure how to react to anything at that time. Not only was he with Poppy again, like he had always wanted but he had also done the unthinkable; irregardless of his feelings of guilt or remorse now, he did what he did, everybody knew and now he was back. Maybe this was some twisted penance but he was unsure. He followed her into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, his head hung like it always did.

“Not a whole lot,” He responded. “What I do know is that it’s not just me and Max. It’s everyone, Pops. It’s everyone who suffered like we did and chose the wrong path. Killers and….victims alike.” That pause. It hung in the air like a guillotine, like his regret waiting to behead him at a moment's notice. “We’re all back for different reasons I think. What they are, I really don’t know.”

“Is that so?” Although she was attentively listening to Charlie, Penelope was also a woman on a mission, packing her backpack with a couple non-perishable snacks, like protein bars, almonds, and pretzels. She didn’t go overboard, just enough to last a day for a small group of people. “And what is your reason?” She looked up from her bag, expectantly meeting his gaze. “You have to have some idea why you’re back.”

“Penance.” Charlie said as he pressed his palms down onto the kitchen. “I’m here to see the pain that I caused, to experience first hand the horror that my actions have inflicted upon people.” If he could go back in time, there was no doubt that Charlie Decker would undo the actions of the first day of senior year, he would take it all back. “And you. I couldn’t rest until I saw you again.”

Penance.

“I couldn’t— well, I can’t sleep on my bed,” Penelope whispered back. Turning away from Charlie, she went to the fridge and retrieved an apple. “I’ve finally started eating better.” She closed the fridge behind her, her voice rising ever so slightly. “Up until recently, Jade’s had to force feed me and even then… I don’t always keep it down.” Walking to her family’s small island, Poppy leaned her elbows on it as she deeply surveyed the fruit. There were so many things she was overcoming, like her fear of social encounters and being able to function in the world again. Being able to live life freely on her own.

“I go to therapy!” Pushing herself off the island, she tossed the apple up, keeping her focus on the fruit instead of the boy, unable to look at him and his face. The old Penelope would’ve been able to look at him right in the eyes as she pleaded for him to stay in her room. Emotional talk? He was her other half. She should be comfortable putting her heart on her sleeves.

That’s just it, though. She wasn’t that Poppy anymore. The apple fell into her hand and when it did so she grasped it. “I was diagnosed with agoraphobia but hey, Mrs. Ramsey says I’m getting better.”

The more she talked, the more defeated she felt. The more hurt she realized she had deeply buried inside her. Dropping her arms to her side, she blankly stared ahead, realizing that seeing Charlie again would only set her back. This would only hurt her. All he’s ever done was hurt her. She always waited and waited and waited for him. Even after death, she waited.

Now he’s back and all she could think about was, “Did I mean nothing to you?” her voice broke, shaking and fighting back the pain. Nothing she could’ve said or done would’ve stopped him that day. Nothing she did helped him in anyway. Everything they had was all in her head and completely one-sided. Always, always with him she felt the need to fight back the tears. She didn’t want to cry over Charlie anymore.

“Pops.”

Charlie Decker had hurt a lot of people, too many people but none more so than Penelope James. When he was alive, she was his heart and in death she still is. Yet he betrayed his heart and everything it represented when he gave into his darkness, to the curse that twisted his soul beyond salvation. Charlie loved her even now, worlds apart but Poppy was what gave his existence meaning.

“You did, you do and you always will mean everything to me.” He was absorbing her feelings, like a sponge. Just being close to Poppy, Charlie could almost read her thoughts and they were filling him with more pain, more hurt but he took it. It was his to take as he was the one that gave it to her in the first place. “I’m not sure what any of this means, Poppy. All I can tell you is that wherever I was…before, I saw you and only you. You’ve always been courageous and I’ve always been a coward but now, maybe I still am but I can say the words now. All the words I wish I’d said the last time I saw you. The words I wrote.”

“What’s the point.” Penelope dejectedly stated. Tightly, she gripped onto the apple in anger, “This. This won’t even last and you’ll be gone.”

All his words left unsaid, what good would that do for her now?

He was a ghost. He was dead.

“You don’t get to say shit like that to me.” She loosened her grip on the apple, dropping it on the counter, in hopes it would calm her down. Instead, her breathing picked up and a sharp pain resided in her chest, a feeling she knew all too well by now. “YOU were MY everything.”

Breathe, Poppy, just breathe.

“I can’t look at my window, my bed, my room without thinking of you. I can’t walk outside without thinking of you. I can’t look at everyone in this fucking town WITHOUT THINKING OF YOU.” Holding onto the counter, using it for stability, knowing well enough she was fighting a panic attack, she shook her head, repeatedly telling herself internally to breathe. To just breathe.

All her life, Poppy convinced herself that she’d have Charlie to walk beside her and all her life, she believed it. Now though? She was a child learning how to walk. She needed to learn to live without him, without the idea that he would show up randomly and be there for her, holding her hand.

Together, she felt whole. He was her world. He always was, he still is. But, for once, she could see a light beyond him. She was finally moving forward. Finally getting somewhere. Finally learning how to live again. If she allowed herself to believe in that again, believe in their love, in him, she would never move on. She would never be happy.

Grabbing her bag from the island, Penelope rushed to the door, walking right through Charlie to get where she needed to go, “I can’t do this. I can’t be alone with you.” Others would use this chance for closure but they were a million worlds apart.

And it hurt.

For once, Charlie was at a loss for words. As someone who was known as a wordsmith, he couldn’t find anything in his thesaurus like vocabulary to steal away what Poppy was feeling. She walked through him. How did she even know she could do that? He didn’t even know she could do that. Regardless of the how, it was the actual why?

It had always been Charlie and Poppy; Poppy and Charlie. Then he did what he did and it was Poppy and the evil spirit that clung to her like rain on skin. And now, just as the sun began to shine, he brought that big black cloud back to sit above her head.

He looked at her with his deep set brown eyes, even in death, still framed by tired purple bags and sighed through his nose. There was a lot left to be said and done but Charlie knew that Poppy needed time and although he didn’t want to leave her side, he had to let her go.

“Be safe out there,” Charlie began. “I’ll try and see what I can figure out but if you need me, just say my name and I’ll be there.” He turned towards the hallway door and began to step through it. He stopped and turned back to his love and sighed again.


Charlie hung his head and faded as he stepped through the door.

"Maliq?"

"Mornin' momma," Maliq replied, running a hand over his face as he turned over in bed. He looked over at the clock and realized several things at once: his bed was empty, it was thirty minutes passed when he usually awoke, meaning Nat or Jonie turned off his alarm. The fact that either of them awoke before him was surprising enough. The final thing his sleepy mind realized was that he almost always calls his momma first, and that her voice was shaky in a way that he only every hears on That Day. He was awake in an instant. "What's wrong?"

"I promise I didn't take anythin', Baby. I didn't take anythin' but I'm still seein' 'em. I need you an' Jonie ta tell me ain't crazy. Please."

"We're on our way." Creed threw the blankets off and got dressed quickly before shooting out the bedroom door, barely stopping at the sight of Jonie and Nat making out in the kitchen. "Save it for the road, we gotta go see momma." He spoke up, tossing them both their jackets and heading for the door, holding it open for them before closing it behind himself.

“Is everything okay?” Natalia questioned, alarm bells ringing immediately at the urgency in Maliq’s tone.

"What happened to Momma Kam?" Jonie asked as they made their way down the stairwell.

"Don't know, but she's seein' our parents so it's nothin' good." Creed answered, nails digging into his palms as the three of them pressed forward.

"She's what," Jonie choked as they reached the parking lot, taking one of Maliq's hands and twining their fingers together while indicating to Nat she should do the same on his other side. The girl nodded and did as she was instructed. "That's usually more of a…more of an anniversary thing ain't it?" He asked, referencing her use of psychedelics on the anniversary of her lovers' deaths.

"She didn't take anythin', Jone, this is happenin' on its own."

The uncharacteristically silent Natalia had allowed herself to be dragged away from the apartment by her lovers without protest, worry bubbling up in the pit of her stomach with every step they took. From the moment she had started her relationship with Creed and met her, Kamilla Briteson had become Natalia’s second mother. The two women understood each other in ways a lot of Edenridge people couldn’t relate to. Being a Serpent partner came with risks and responsibilities, and although the Belmonte girl was aware of them, Momma Kam had taken it upon herself to be her guide. Even after she, Creed and Jokes had broken up, the relationship between her and Kam never changed. They still went out on their weekly lunch dates, still texted every other day, and she was still one of the two people Tal went to whenever she was overwhelmed, stressed, happy or in need of guidance. Now, it was Natalia’s turn to be there for the woman who had so loving and willingly taken her under her wing as the daughter she never had.

“Wh-What happens on the anniversary?” Tal heard herself asking, more as a way to avoid any unnerving silence from settling between them.

The two men shared a quick glance before Creed's scowl deepened and he quickened his pace, pulling them along.

"Momma Kam takes a special cocktail'a drugs that kinda…gives her a mellow hallucination for the day? She basically slips back inta the old days when...when our parents were still here. When we show up at the end'a the night she'll have had made a whole dinner but been sure our parents helped. The stove is usually left on an' all the lil' things she said they took care of would be left undone. We gotta go through the house as she comes down from the high an' make sure shit's turned off or put back." Jokes dropped Creed's hand in order to wring his own together, cracking his knuckles in nervous habit as he recalls their yearly worry. "Aside from that, she basically just smokes pot the rest'a the year. But she OD'd once when we were thirteen so if anythin' weird ever happens she makes sure ta call us. Just in case."

"Just in case." Creed echoed, turning onto his mother's street and heading to his childhood home. Natalia vehemently nodded.

Both their phones buzzed and Jokes pulled his out to find a text from Mordechai.

"Looks like it's not just Momma," Jokes mumbled faintly, turning his screen so Creed could see the message. "Boa is seein' Danny, an' his buddy Poppy was seein' somethin' too."

Creed stared at the screen, his eyes distant and dark as he tried to process this. They were at the front door, just a piece of wood between them and his mother and maybe…

"So they could be real." It was said with no inflection, despite being meant as a question. Creed had checked out emotionally as his mind went through the possibilities. He couldn't even deal with the thought of little Danny right now. "Right-" he said, taking a breath and turning to Nat. "You stay behind us."

The dark-haired girl nodded again, holding onto one of Maliq’s muscled arms with both of hers wrapped around it. She didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with here. Was it a bad batch of drugs? Had someone laced the latest batch with psychedelics or hallucinogens to give it an extra kick? She knew Prof would never allow anyone to mess with his brand like that, but you never knew these days. Whatever it was, she was somewhat relieved that she didn’t have any deceased family members that could appear to her as it was seemingly happening with the rest of the crew.

“Are you sure I should be here, babe? Do you think it’s safe for me?” she asked him, a small frown of nervousness settling on her forehead.

Creed matched her frown, shaking his head. "Don't much matter now, it's not safe ta leave ya out here. When I thought it was just hallucinations it was different but...just stay behind us, I don't know wh-"

The door opened with a small whine and Jokes pulled Natalia behind him as Creed turned to face the door, both their faces going ashen.

"...Dad..." Creed choked out, his father smiling at him and looking as pristine as the day he drove out of the city on a run and never made it back. Quintel Briteson opened his arms and his son fell into them like not a day had passed.

"My baby boy, you got so big," he looked over to Jokes, glancing curiously over his shoulder at Natalia before returning to his face. "You both have. Come on in, we've got 'er calmed down a bit but I think she needs ta know other people see us too. Then ya c'n introduce us ta your friend." He winked at Natalia as he retreated inside, the boys following after as if drawn by a magnet.

In the living room, Kamilla was lying on the couch with her legs flung over Tama's thighs from where the woman sat on the last cushion. The room reeked of weed, and Creed quickly identified the source as the blunt loosely held between his mother's fingers.

Calmed down indeed.

Zeti was sitting in the recliner in the corner, the one that he always passed out on when they were alive because none of the adults could go a day without injury so they often crashed together in this very room to stay close to one another. Many times Jokes and Creed would join as well and they would watch a stupid movie and fall asleep all piled together. The nights always seemed colder after they'd died.

"Hey momma, not that I didn't believe ya b'fore, but there's no doubt you're not crazy now," Creed spoke up, kneeling next to her and making sure she saw him make eye contact with the ghosts. "I don't know what's goin' on, but I brought Jokes an' Puff with me."

Kam gave them all a shaky smile, guilt in her eyes as they fell on Nat.

"Sorry Babypop, I never wanted ya ta see me all outta sorts." She had always been the one trying to advise Natalia and help her along, be strong for her to show her it was possible, even if the Southside brought tragedy. The girl was the daughter she never had and a bright hope for both her sons' futures. Being weak in front of her always seemed to take more wind out of Kam's sails than it did with others.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Kammy,” Natalia reassured her, rushing over to her second mother and kneeling next to her beside Maliq. She gently cradled the woman’s face between her hands before planting a tender kiss on her forehead, the woman's eyes fluttering shut in response. “You don’t always have to be strong for everyone all the time, you know? It’s okay to reach out for help whenever things get overwhelming. You taught me that, remember?”

"Oh, I like this one," Tama spoke up, lightly tapping Kam's ankle. Kam kicked her lightly in reply, a playful smirk tentatively growing on her lips. "You always wanted a daughter."

"And one that can remember and spit back your life lessons, too," Zeti spoke up, an inviting smile on his face as he saw Jokes inching towards him. He stood, wrapping his arm around him in a bear hug. "Looks like things've changed a bit." Jonie gave him a watery smile before heading back to Creed, gripping the other man's hand tightly and murmuring quietly enough only the two of them could hear. Zeti turned his attention back to Natalia. "Can ya fight too? Or are ya on the stealthier side?"

"If you're gonna harass the girl ya could at least introduce yourselves." Quintel cut in, arms crossed and eyes heavenward as he wrangled his lovers. Zeti sent him a bitch face.

"What, she don't know 'bout us?" Tama asked dramatically, hand over her chest in betrayal, only to break character and laugh when Quintel came up behind her and shoved her head forward. "Just kiddin'. I'm Tama Thunder, that's my husband Zeti Slick, and behind me is Quintel Intel. Nice ta meet'cha."

It was an acceptance, a welcome, to greet her the way Tama did: using both given and serpent name together. The lost generation was giving her all of them, both facets, while they had the chance.

Natalia could only stare at the newcomers in wonder, her mouth slightly agape. The many photos and tales of the departed Briteson-Kraeter family members didn't do any of the justice. No image could ever capture the stunning beauty of Tama Kraeter's exotic features, or the confidence with which she carried herself (much like Natalia's own). No picture could ever recreate the playful sparkle in her husband Zeti's eyes anytime he smiled, his handsomeness, or how his demeanor was so irresistibly charming. And no tale could ever truly explain the pearly white brightness of Quintel's perfect teeth, his attractiveness, or the richness of his baritone voice. They were all so beautiful, so captivating, so lovable... It was easy and heartbreaking to see why their passing had been so hard on the loved ones they left behind.

"Tama, Zeti, Quintel: it truly is an honor to meet you all," the young woman declared, taking the time to make eye contact with and address all three adults with the same reverence one would use when speaking to a very important person. "I'm Natalia: Maliq and Jonie's girlfriend. The boys call me Puff. I've heard so many stories throughout the years, and I'm so glad I have this opportunity for us to meet."

"Oh I really like this one," Tama laughed. "You're adorable, I can already see what our boys see in ya."

"Pull back a bit, love, don't wanna scare 'er off," Quintel said from behind the couch, smiling at Nat. "Not that ya seem ta scare easy."

"Babypop kept both'a them in check when they started datin', she ain't scared'a much." Kam revealed with a light laugh, reaching out and squeezing the girl's hand.

"She didn't keep us in check!" Jonie cried indignantly, looking to Maliq for support only to have the other man shake his head.

"That ain't a hill I'm boutta die on, J." He denied the other, pushing him forward into the room. "Go say hi ta both'a your parents properly."

He stumbled forward before pinwheeling his arms to regain his balance. Brushing off imaginary dust, Jonie looked up to see his father had already stepped forward to stand before him, Tama slowly untangling from Kam's legs before the both of them gathered him into a proper family hug. They whispered affections in his ears as he cried silently into their shoulders, calling Maliq over halfway through the tears to join the hug.

"So," Quintel spoke up from where he was now on the couch next to Kam, the latter having sat up and pulled Nat down to her other side while the others reunited. "How'd ya meet our boys?"

Natalia's green eyes immediately went to meet Maliq's brown ones across the room, and there was no disguising the way the corners of her mouth turned upwards before she immediately pursed her lips together. Her mind immediately traveled back to that Northside house party September of her junior year-- the one in which she and Creed had officially met. The scenes were replaying themselves back to back in her brain like the screening of a short film: the seductive dancing, the shameless flirting, the passionate kissing, the scorching hot hookup they'd had in one of the host's bedrooms--

"We, um, we met at a party," the Belmonte girl said as simply and matter-of-factly as she could, biting back a complicit smile.

Creed however seemed to be an open book to his family, his face flushed and eyes suddenly darting. Jokes snickering in the background certainly didn't help. Tama and Zeti shared a look as Quintel's eyes lit up with mirth.

"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" He teased, all of the adults laughing at the look on Maliq's face. "Hey, no shamin' here baby boy, I met your ma at a party too."

"That was a serpent party," Creed rejected immediately, still trying to regulate the look on his face. "And ma was workin', this was some Northie's party I was dealin' at."

"Come on now, ya ain't gotta defend it, ya ain't done nothin' wrong."

"I know that…" Creed grumbled as he looked down, flustered. Quintel laughed again and pulled Creed down to his other side, the four of them officially filling up the couch. The Kraeter trio settled at the recliner and loveseat across from the couch.

"What do you do now?" Zeti cut in, taking pity on Creed and attempting to get back to learning more about Nat in one fell swoop. He was pretty good at bulldozing conversation into new directions.

"I, uh, I'm a college student, actually," Talia answered, shifting around the couch to get into a more comfortable position. "UMass. Finance and Business Administration major. Volleyball scholarship. Pledged Sigma Delta Tau in my first semester of freshman year. Starting my sophomore year spring of next year. There's a bit of a family emergency happening, so I took a break this semester to stay home for that."

"Wow," Quintel murmured, slinging his arm around Maliq's shoulders. "You're one impressive lady. What drew ya ta our two delinquents here? No offense ta our boys, but that seems ta be a different social circle your comin' from."

"I mean, have you seen those faces? How could anyone not be drawn in?" she joked, and after the laughter around the room had subsided she continued. "They're just… such amazing young men," the dark-haired girl gushed, shooting both Creed and Jokes a warm, loving smile. "They're hard working, sweet, caring, thoughtful, attentive… I could honestly go on all day about how awesome they are. They've been with me through some of the most challenging times of my life, and have never done anything other than protect me and make me feel safe and loved. I've always been a firm believer that there's more than meets the eye; that it doesn't matter who you are or where you come from as long as you're a good person at heart. Maliq and Jonie are the perfect example of that. I couldn't have asked for or dreamed of having better partners."

There was silence from the parents as Maliq and Jonie beamed at Natalia despite their red faces. Zeti was the first one to break it.

"...Can we cry as ghosts? Is it possible? I just might regardless." He spoke as him and Tama both put a hand on their son's shoulders and smiled at him.

"We are so proud'a you boys." Quintel agreed as he threw his arm around Maliq and gave him a loving noogie.

"We always knew ya'd be good men, and we're so happy we got ta see it ourselves. Even some'a your good choices first hand." Tama put in with a wink to Nat.

Kam, relatively silent next to Nat as she watched all her favorite people interact, turned to the girl next to her and gave a watery smile while squeezing her hand. "I'm glad your gettin' ta meet 'em, Babypop. I've wanted this for all'a ya since the first time Maliq brought ya home."

"And I'm so glad I have the chance to," Tal responded, wrapping her arms around Kam and pulling her into an affectionate hug. "I know how much this means to you and the boys, Kam, and I want you to know it means just as much to me."

Kam smiled, patting her cheek and placing a kiss to Nat's temple.

Finally, after so many years of suffering, the world of the Briteson-Krater families was right again... Even if it was just for a little while.

The revved engine of a dark blue pickup came to a steady stop in front of the Godmother’s Sandwich Shop. Marco made sure to park it as close to the entrance as he could. The only downside was that his brother’s truck was lifted up somewhat, so Marco knew as soon as he stepped out, he’d feel that nice crunch of his limbs. That kind of earth-shattering crunch one always wants to feel after they’ve had an eye awakening experience.

As he watched in a painful limp, Marco found himself taking a seat at the nearest table inside. Surprisingly it wasn’t jam-packed as he assumed it would be. He didn’t know who else was seeing themselves, but Marco shrugged as he put pressure off of his left leg and was left to his own devices for a few minutes. He spent those minutes just thinking about everything his other self said. How that whole ordeal was all about his internal strife (or however the hell he phrased it). Said that he needed to deal with the external.

“What the hell does that even mean?” Marco cursed, slamming the table with his balled fist. “And now my hand hurts. Wonderful.”

Looking up, Marco saw Cat hovering over him and he started to wonder just how long she’d been standing there. “Oh hey! Didn’t see you there.”

Raising an eyebrow, curious and concerned, Caterina, with painted whiskers on her face and cat ears on her head, gave the boy a quick glance over before smiling, “Oh hey, it’s a little early…” Cat looked at her wrist watch, then the door, then back at Marco. She was in her red pea coat jacket, which covered her black long sleeve shirt and pants (a budget cat outfit). She looked like she just arrived into the building, only moments before Marco came trampling in, “You’re my first customer today seeing how I haven’t opened yet.” Cat laughed to herself, realizing she must’ve forgotten to lock the door behind her. “I can fix you up a sandwich real quick. Let me guess, your usual? Irish reuben with extra sauerkraut?”

Today started awfully weird, on top of the sky having an odd hue of purple casting over their town, her kids actually sleeping in instead of jumping in excitement for the Belmonte party and trick-or-treating, Edenridge seemed… different. Gentle mist dancing throughout the streets. An unusual quiet. It felt almost magical, in a haunting sort of way, like they were stuck in a dream. She couldn’t tell why nor did she personally have any weird occurrences happen to her, but she could feel it in the air.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween!”

Marco had been lost in his own thoughts even as he sat there. His delayed reaction came in the form in an almost startled jump. “And Happy Halloween to you too!” would be the last thing Marco said as Cat disappeared behind the counter.

He could smell her make his sandwich, the smell being enough to awaken his stomach and make it almost eat itself. He didn’t know how long it’s been since he ate anything. He didn’t know what time he even woke up. He remembered it being night time when he was having that strange encounter with his other self, but maybe that was him thinking it was night time? Could have been early in the sunrise transition. It definitely felt like it was early, though. Something about the way his body felt whenever he pulled an all-nighter. That bizarre mix of hungry and sleepy lingered like a bad itch.

And smelling the corn beef brisket was more than enough to intensify that feeling.

Taking himself out of his head for a change, Marco looked up. And maybe it was just the first time him noticing, but he realized she had the whiskers and ears of a cat. “Say Cat, have you noticed anything...weird going on lately? I mean, like anything out of the norm?”

Placing his plate in front of him, along with a glass of water, Cat shrugged, “No, but I do have this weird gut feeling. Then again, I’m kind of on autopilot in the mornings. Why, what’s up?” Since she hadn’t officially opened her store yet, Cat decided to invite herself at his table, sitting across from the boy her little brother used to hang out with a lot. “Did you get spooked or something?” Intertwining her fingers together, she rested her elbows on the table and her chin on the back of her hands.

There was a vague instance where she saw her father talking to her late great uncle Cosimo in front of Palermo but she didn’t have her morning coffee yet so she didn’t think too deeply into it.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Marco said, looking down at his sandwich. He hadn’t touched it yet and his stomach was making him suffer for it. “I still don’t know if it was a dream or not. It’s honestly so bizarre now that I’m thinking about it, but I kinda had a conversation with...myself. Minus the limp I’ve been…blessed with.” He laughed more at how crazy he probably sounded right now. Thinking about it made him want to tear some hair out and saying it out loud cemented that thought.

“Is that weird?” Cat tilted her head, wondering why this kid was beating himself up for his inner thoughts. “Sounds like you were self reflecting and maybe your subconscious just made it feel like you were talking with yourself?” Unlocking her fingers, Danny’s eldest sister leaned back and adjusted her ears, “What did you talk about? With yourself? If you mind me asking.”

Somehow Marco knew that she wouldn’t understand completely. Or maybe it wasn’t that and she was right? Could that actually be the case? Marco had no freaking idea which one it was, but that didn’t matter. As he took a bite of his sandwich, savoring both it and the time it allowed him to think on how to phrase what he was about to say, he looked up at Cat the Cat. “I don’t mind telling. I mean, okay so I guess it really was just about this...other me making sure I understand what happened to me--” He made a point to raise his injured leg up which more or less felt like dead weight, “--wasn’t my fault. And, I guess that I had to tackle my internal and external crisis, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He laughed again and took a bigger bite of his sandwich, chewing as he thought about what the other him emphasized when he said external crisis.

In sudden passion, Cat slapped the table, “Why the hell are you blaming yourself for that fucking kid going pyscho?” Woah, reel it in Cat. Reel it in. “Did you know my daughter was shot near you, Marco? She’s given up completely on soccer, and you know what? That’s okay. Life doesn’t have a map. We don’t have this predetermined final destination. Things change, people change us. Do you think I always wanted to be a business owner? Fuck no. Originally, my dream was to become an actress. I was in my prime in high school, but shit happens. I lost my best friend and got pregnant, then I decided to use the gifts my parents gave me for a stable life.”

Marco knew she was right. His other self said similar things. So why couldn’t he bring himself to follow their line of thinking? On some level, he did blame himself even though Charlie Decker was the one who clearly was in the wrong. But as he sat there, slowly chewing on the last bit of the first half of his sandwich, he didn’t know that about Sofia. Or maybe he forgot when he was deep in his own despair and self-pity. “I’m sorry, Cat. I didn’t mean to…” He choked on his words. Even right now he couldn’t bear to make anymore excuses, not when Cat had proven that they held no merit.

And in a way, maybe this was what he needed. Not only because of the sandwich that helped satiate a hunger that lingered about, but also a sense of direction. If it wasn’t for Cat, Marco wouldn’t have been able to put the final pieces of this puzzle together. “Thank you, Cat. For the sandwich. I’ll probably take the other half to go. I think there’s something I need to do.” As he got up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

“Free. It’s Halloween, kid, go enjoy yourself.” Caterina stood up and began to clean up the table. Swiftly, she grabbed him a to-go box, handed it to him, and began cleaning the table, “Listen, life is short. If I can give you any sound advice, don’t wake up with regrets. It’s exhausting.” As Marco got up, Cat paused from wiping the table and glanced up at Marco, frowning a bit, “If you get a chance, check on Danny for me? He’s been out of it since, um... our mother died.”

At the moment that Cat had mentioned it, Marco only smiled for the sake of Cat but internally he found himself truly worried about Danny. He couldn’t even begin to understand what that was like, to wake up one day and find that your mother was gone. Just the thought of not ever seeing his ma again terrified him, lord only knew what Danny might be going through right now.

He gave her a nod, holding his smile firm on his face. “I will. I’ll swing by later, I promise.” There was a sort of a conviction in Marco’s voice, the kind that seemed to say more than his words could ever.

As the cool breeze hit the nape of Jade’s neck, she started to shiver and regret not wearing something more conservative. With just a mid-thigh-high black dress, boots that came just above her knees, her usual leather jacket that has become synonymous with Jade’s “look”, and a witch’s hat to complete the impromptu witch she dressed up as for her shift, she knew she’d regret it. She just didn’t think it would be so goddamn cold tonight.

But just put that on the list of things that Jade didn’t anticipate tonight.

It’s true, she didn’t think tonight would be as full of surprises. When she came into work around 8, she did so with the mindset she always had whenever she went to work: it’s just a normal day and nthing out of the ordinary was going to happen. There might be a few guys at Edge who might get handsy. It was the Southside, after all. Jade had come to accept that there were people among the Southside who still didn’t respect boundaries just as they should know that if you invade her personal space, she won’t hesitate to invade theirs.

But again, that was just how it was for her. Rey Rey might protect her per the Serpent and Fallen Angels brotherhood-esque bond, but that didn’t extend for everyone else who thought Jade was easy. She could be if she liked you enough, but when it came to those random strangers who saw her hand them drinks versus dancing around a pole, she maintained some professionalism with them only if they respected her enough to not touch what they didn’t earn.

Usually, that would be the extent of her day, but something more happened. After she knocked a few front teeth of some guy aptly named Bad Luck Rick, Jade began seeing...things. Maybe it was her fucked up sleeping schedule that was to blame. She recalled seeing flashes of people she knew to be dead. Old clients of hers that she mourned. Angels that she grew up with who died because of the life. She saw them at the club, raising a hand to them.

And as she found herself coming to a stop at a crosswalk, the chills that went up her spine at the moment was almost as intense as when she first saw those familiar faces. She didn’t know what the hell was going on nor if what she saw was even there. It’s also true that Jade had been relying on psychedelic drugs a lot lately. She kept having dreams about Charlie. They weren’t exactly meaningful dreams. Well, it was Charlie, so perhaps they were always meaningful. She always had dreams about Charlie.

God, how she missed Charlie. He’s been on her mind a lot lately. Even before tonight. Even before she thought she saw people from her past who were no longer alive. She has been thinking about him in the same way she’d imagine old people look back on their lives and think about their regrets. She had plenty of regrets when it came to the one person she felt she had let down the most.

And if there was anyone who could relate it was…

“Poppy?”

Speak of her soul sister and she shall appear.

Yet, it didn’t seem like she noticed when Jade waved at her.

“Wait, where is she going?” Jade questioned as if anyone else could hear her. “Poppy!” She called out, yet her sister couldn’t hear her.

As she watched Poppy move away from where Jade saw her, she decided, at that moment, that if she couldn’t get her sister’s attention, she would do the only logical thing that anyone in her position would do.

She followed her banana-cap wearing sister.

The tune of Aerosmith's most popular hit began to coax the sleeping figure of Caitlin Cleary back into a wakeful state. Although it was a song she had refused to listen to for the last five years, there was something different about the version currently filling the empty spaces of her bedroom that Halloween morning. There was no music to hum along to, or any instruments to carry a tune. In its place, a familiar deep voice was intoning the famous rock ballad in a murmured lullaby that took Caitlin back to flannel shirt days, lakeside nights, clandestine encounters and a whole lot of love.

Cece slowly began to open her eyes, giving them time to adjust to the faint rays of sunlight peeking into her bedroom. She could feel the energy and warm presence of another figure laying next to her; its gentle hand running their fingers through her silky red mane. At first, she half-smiled, assuming it was her boyfriend Niles Sinclair serenading her this morning. But then she remembered that Niles hadn't spent the night with her, that his voice wasn't this deep, and that he knew I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing was a banned song. Frowning with both curiosity and dread, the young woman carefully turned around to confront this stranger in her bed, ignoring the way her heart was hammering inside her chest with that fight or flight instinct going off. But when her eyes fell on the figure now in front of her, she nearly gasped in shock. Right there, laying in bed beside her, was her first love... 

David O'Hara.

“Hey there, pretty lady.”

David’s curly brown tresses framed his handsome face perfectly. He was dressed exactly as he was that fateful night: in jeans, boots, a flannel button-down shirt, and his signature Levi denim jacket. He wasn’t soaking wet and frozen solid like he was when they found his corpse; no, he was as warm and as full of light as he was the rest of the time. 

If Francis Callahan was the king of the school, David O’Hara was the Duke. His father was the most beloved member of Edenridge High staff that wasn’t named Beau. It was a lot to overcome and in hindsight; David never really accomplished that feat. He had lived in his fathers large looming shadow from the day he and his twin sister Jamie were born. He had considered making an appearance to her on this unprecedented eve but Jamie was….fragile and seeing her long dead brother might just be a little much for her. 

Whoever said being royalty was easy? 

While her peers had wasted time battling and getting over questions, hesitations and uncertainty about what was happening, Caitlin did the complete opposite. She didn't know how or why this was happening, but she'd be damned if she didn't take advantage of every second she had with the person she'd missed most in the entire universe. So as soon as she realized she could physically interact with the figure in front of her, the redheaded girl had burrowed her face into David's chest and began to sob quietly. 

"I'm sorry!" Cece desperately apologized to her former lover as she pulled away, matching rivers of tears continuing to stream down her heartbroken, freckled face. "I'm so sorry about everything, Dave. It was all my fault! Where they found you, how they found you-- I know you were coming to see me! I never, ever, ever, wanted anything like that to happen to you! I am so, so sorry… I'll never forgive myself for being the reason you're not here with me today."

“Caitlin, it’s okay.”

David held his girl close into his chest as she wept and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You weren’t at fault for anything. Shit just happens and what happened to me, it was what it was.” He had spent a lot of time on the other side, thinking back to the events that led him to his death. David, when he was alive, had little care about the world around him, about what went on in other people’s lives and the moments that made the world turn. Yet when something happens like what happened to him, it makes you think something fierce. 

“Look at it this way, CeCe: with me gone, you’ll find something better, someone better. Everything happens for a reason, kid."

Cece vehemently shook her head. "But they won’t be you," she whispered, cupping David's face with both hands and locking her eyes with his. "They won’t be you, David! They won’t be the guy I had a crush on since I was a girl. They won’t be the guy I fell head over heels in love with when I was fourteen. They won’t be the guy who was my first kiss, my first date, my first time-- my first everything! They won’t be the guy I'd sneak around for just to spend some time with, or the one who'd talked to me for hours, or the one who had me melting every time he smiled at me. We were going to get married and live in the cottage next to your parents' house. We were going to have a house full of kids that had my hair and your eyes. You were the one I was supposed to spend my life with, Dave! It wasn't supposed to be like this." Cece knew lamenting what could've been wasn't going to change what had already happened; but David needed to know that her heart would always belong to him.

“I was pretty amazing wasn’t I?” David had always had that cheeky edge and even in death, humour was still his best friend. 

Caitlin let out a shaky chuckle and nodded. "You really were."

David pressed his lips to the girl's forehead and, deciding to finally break their embrace, got up off the bed.

The curly haired boy wandered the room he had spent many a night in so many years ago; it hadn’t really changed, it even smelled the same. “I see you kept hold of my vinyls… Nice.”

"That's not the only thing I still have," she told him with a sad smile, taking up a seating position in the middle of the bed. "If you want a real trip down memory lane, pull out the brown box under the bed and bring it over here."

David brushed his chin with his palm after he had pulled out and opened the box under Caitlin’s bed. “Wow." It was filled with mementos from their clandestine relationship over five years ago. The redhead had kept pretty much everything from their time together: photos, letters, postcards, flowers and even his letterman jacket. It was amazing to David that even so many years on from his death that she held on to all this memorabilia from their time together. As happy as it made him that he was still on CeCe’s mind; it did make him feel somewhat uncomfortable. He had been gone for a long time now-- she shouldn’t be still pining after him.

“You really are hung up on me, aren’t you, kid?”

"I'm not sure I ever won't be."

David glanced out of the nearby window where you could see the shimmering waters of Lake Eden. Had he not crossed the water that night, things would’ve been different: things would’ve been as Caitlin wanted them to be. That just wasn’t the case. He may be back from the dead for however long, but he couldn’t turn back time-- he wasn’t Cher.

“CeCe, you’re allowed to feel as you do. But remember: you can’t change the past. There’s no use dwelling on it. I’m gone. So look to the future-- look to your future.” He took a seat back into the bed, holding onto his old letterman jacket. “Listen, I’ve been gone for years and I’ll be gone for the rest of them too. I’ll always be with you, kid. Always watching over you. But you have to let me go and get on with your life. This place, this town, it’ll eat you alive if you let it. Don’t let it. Be better than this place. Like the song says: ‘Carry on, my wayward son’….I mean…daughter…you get what I’m trying to say.”

“But I’m scared…” Caitlin croaked, lower lip wobbling with the premise of tears as she settled next to David on the bed again. “I’m scared of so many things, Dave… I’m scared I’ll never find someone that’ll make me feel the way you did. I’m scared of feeling like betraying you and what we had just by contemplating the idea of someone else. I’m scared that, if I ever do find someone else, that I’ll eventually forget you. And I’m freaking terrified that I’ll fall in love with someone this deeply again and lose them like I did you. I never want to go through this heartbreak in my life ever again.”

In retrospect, Cece hadn’t been this raw, real or vulnerable with anyone in years. Even as a child, the redhead masked her feelings with her sweet and cheerful disposition to prevent her loved ones from worrying about her. But David? David had known her better than anyone. He used to read her like a book. If there had been anyone in the world that she trusted with her mind, heart, feelings and emotion’s workings more than Danny or her older sister, it had been David

“Heartbreak is a part of life, Caitlin,” David wrapped his hand around hers and held it in his lap. “It hurts like hell and it can take forever and day to get over but once you get beyond that pain, it gets better. That pain in your heart, the voice in your head telling you that it’s not worth it, it’s wrong. It gets better and life will always find a way to give you what you’ve earned. You’re gonna struggle, but it’s what makes life worthwhile.”

Caitlin shifted her eyes away from David to stare at the floor. She took a deep breath, and before she knew it, was spilling her darkest secret to her beloved. "I used to have those really dark days, you know? I would wake up sobbing really really hard after having a nightmare about you, have a split-second relief of thinking it was all a dream, only to break apart all over again when I realized it wasn't: that you were truly, actually, really gone. I couldn't sleep for weeks. At one point, I thought about putting on my best dress, walking over to the lake and tying bricks or cement blocks to my feet so I couldn't come back up when I jumped in after you…" she admitted while wiping away a few stray tears, her voice breaking as she made the confession she hadn't voiced out loud to anyone else before. "But I didn't do it, because there was a voice in my head that told me it was all going to get better someday. Sometimes I'll be blindsided by a memory of you, and before I know it I'm a crying mess in the middle of my bedroom again. But sometimes everything feels like it's okay. The good days slowly started to be more than the bad. And yet, there are some days that I can't help but wonder… Did I ever do anything to deserve any of this?"

“You didn’t do anything, kid,” David stroked her gorgeous red hair. “But that voice in your head was right. Things did get better; Niles? My boy Mika? I’ve been whispering in your ear this whole time, baby girl.” He grinned at her goofily, proud of himself for some stupid reason that he would never admit to. “I don’t know what the great plan is but what I do know is that as soon as I figured out that I could influence your world from where I was, I did. I started letting you know that the sadness wasn’t forever. You moved on and I’m glad you did.”

As soon as Mika and Niles were mentioned, Cece whipped her head to look back at David with wide, shocked eyes. "You know about them?" she asked, her lower lip wobbling with the guilt painted all over her face. Their names sounded strange coming from his lips, like a child enunciating a curse word. Even after his admission that he'd been the one to influence their presence in Caitlin’s life, it still made her feel as if she's been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.

“Of course I do.”

David leaned back on the bed with a smug sort of grin across his face, while Cece followed suit and rested her head on the crook of his shoulder. “Who do you think sent them to you? Mika is my cousin, so I had a bit more influence on him than I did Niles.” He glanced out of the crack in the curtains at the world he once knew and sighed. It seemed in some ways that the light had gone out. “That said, him breaking your heart was never part of the plan. I can influence but I can’t control. I do think that you’ve always been loved, though, by everyone. There’s just grander designs, I guess.”

'Loved by everyone'... That was an interesting choice of words from David. Was this a subtle way of him confirming that Mika had indeed reciprocated Cece's feelings during the time of their involvement? The damage was already one and done, of course-- nothing would change the heartache he'd caused her. However, it did bring the girl some relief to know her intuition hadn't been mistaken, and that she hadn't been betraying David's memory in any way by trying to move on.

"As true as that might be, I still have a very big question for you, Dave. Was I ever loved by you?" she asked him, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips while she looked up at him. The answer was obvious, but she still wanted to hear confirmation from her eternal lover. 

The young man smiled at her and kissed her lips. "With all of my heart.”

As the redhead brightly smiled back at him and hugged him tight, David couldn't help his deep sigh. He didn’t know how much time he had left with Cece before the world returned to normal and whatever was happening stopped. For all he knew, he could be back on the other side the next time she opened her eyes. He could tell the pain was still raw, but hopefully after this she could finally find a way to move past what they were and start focusing on who she is.

As for Caitlin, the encounter marked the arrival of a new dawn to the rest of her life. His love for her, like hers for him, would always live on forever. But with David's blessing, and the undeniable confirmation that she was not to blame for his passing, the young woman would now be able to find the unwavering strength within herself to truly move on forward. She was free to love and live life to the fullest, heart at peace knowing that David would always be taking care of her.

Marco’s mind seemed to be full of thoughts he couldn’t shut out, but hasn’t that been his entire day? It seemed regardless if he was at home during the point that he was on-and-off listening to Mei’s podcast/stream or dreaming(?) that he was walking and then running all the way to the place where he got shot by Charlie Decker, Marco just couldn’t shut out those screaming thoughts. He tried to and even went by Cat’s sandwich shop just as it opened and got himself the only thing that has ever helped him that wasn’t his squad on League. A sandwich they might as well call “The Marco” because the Irish Reuben was what he always ordered. And Cat knew him to prefer a bit more kraut than most people preferred.

But as he sat at his computer desk, the sun glaring in his face and him killing heartless in Kingdom Hearts, a change of pace of sorts, he chuckled at the irony. He was in the Halloween Town world and it was Halloween for Edenridge in the real world. How funny it was to him that some things aligned. And he tried to focus on it, but the only thing that he could think about was that conversation he had with himself. Cat helped him make some sense about it and one of the many screaming thoughts was a repeat of her advice to not have regrets. Whether he was talking to himself or some weird astral projection of his inner turmoil, Marco thought a lot about what she told him.

But there was something he had to do first. God or whatever sort of divine figure was at work tonight, knew that before he could go check up on Danny and maybe really talk with him, Marco knew he had to do something first.

After a quick shower, and getting a “small” snack of a complete breakfast spread of sausage, eggs, toast, and some skillet potatoes tossed with some chili peppers, Marco was out the door. He felt full enough to have the confidence to do what he knew he needed to do, but he also had a level of conviction that wasn’t gonna be scared off by any doubt or fear of the unknown. Unlike the last time he got into his brother’s truck and drove to the scene of the worst event in his life, Marco was sure that this was going to happen in the way he wanted.

As he parked the truck in the same spot he did last time, like it was a symbolism for his growth in the past eight or so hours/ To most, that might not a lot of time but going through what he went through, it was like he spent that time in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber.

He took in a deep breath, running his hands along his arms that were inside a hoodie he had forgotten was Danny’s. A thought came to him of wanting to return it to him. Exhaling, Marco felt a wave of stress being released from him. He opened his mouth and just said it: “I don’t know if this is actually going to work, but if I could talk to myself, then maybe I can even talk to you, Charlie Decker.” Marco closed his eyes, some kind of foreboding sense in him refusing to let him open them.

As per the former soccer standouts request, emerging from behind the bow worn and decrepit “Welcome to Edenridge High” sign was the man himself, the monster; Charlie Decker. Of course, he hadn’t changed from that day. The visage that presented itself to Marco was not the same one that Poppy and the others had seen. He was not clean and unbruised. He did not look comfortable or at peace. This Charlie, this was the Charlie on that day. His hair was greasy, his chocolate eyes were surrounded by dark, foreboding sleepless circles. Dried blood was splattered on his cheek and his clothes were worn and dirty. This was not the free spirit of Charlie Decker, this was the memory, the haunting pain in the collective gut of Edenridge. This was the boy the world let down.

“Marco”

His heart started to beat faster as the world around him came to a standstill. And he could hear the thumping of it pierce through his ears. His eyes remained closed but that did nothing to quell the fear inside him that was growing and growing until it threatened to explode from anywhere it could.

He thought he was ready. Marco was confident that after everything: having a talk with himself, getting food and unanticipated advice from Cat, and going home and having a bit of time to himself, Marco thought he prepared himself enough for ..for …this.

But then he heard Charlie’s voice say his name. It was strange because he seldom interacted with Charlie outside of small moments when they’d pass each other in the hall. Truthfully, Marco’s relationship with Charlie was almost nonexistent, yet his voice and hearing his name come from them was an unbearable terror that made the Mexican boy weak in the knees.

But he had to regain himself. He had to find that confidence he was sure he came to this field with before Charlie appeared before him (or so he thought). He took in a total of three breaths. On the third one, he opened his eyes. He held himself together, though the effects of his legs shaking, made him take a knee and it was his weak leg that he had to put force on.

“Charlie…” Marco said under a few, quick breaths. He grunted as he was vertical again. “Can’t believe that actually worked.” It was the surprise on Marco’s face that said it all. He knew whatever was happening was, if nothing else, unbelievable and unexplainable to anyone who hadn’t experienced it. With Marco not having many ties to Edenridge, his experience would be with...this person.

After the initial dust cloud of shock settled, Marco stood about five feet away from Charlie and just looked at him. He couldn’t find any words to say other than his name. He couldn’t think straight. His thoughts were all over the place and, while he could say a mountain of things, none made it out with tact, so he just gritted his teeth. As he did that, he balled up his right fist so tight he felt his nails dig deep into the flesh of his palm.

“Charlie…Decker…”

And as he cried out in a mixture of terror and desperation that was laced with a latent anger Marco hadn’t known in years, he hooked his right arm, aiming dead straight for Charlie’s jaw.

The impact from Marco’s fist sent Charlie backward into a parked car. Standing as tall as the Native American boy did, it was always the case that whenever anyone swung for Charlie, which was often when he was alive, had to swing upwards. He had made sure to make himself corporeal for this meeting with Marco. He had learned that the charged emotions of those around him were what dictated his abilities in the moment. The likes of Poppy and the others, they remembered a different Charlie to the one that someone like Marco would. Marco would likely only remember the boy that shot up the school, who didn’t socialize at parties and constantly looked like he had just gone five rounds with Mike Tyson. Marco’s rage, Charlie felt it when he was called, he needed to let out whatever he had inside and he needed to do so at the darkest version of Charlie, the one that stole his future.

He corrected himself and stood back up to his full height. He didn’t move any closer to the other boy, just stayed perfectly resolute and still like the elder tree on the edge of town.

“Let it out, Marco.”

“Let all of what out?” Marco questioned back to a stilled Charlie Decker.

Marco felt an immense pain coursing through the hand that had connected with Charlie’s jaw and it surged down his leg. It was bad enough that he allowed himself to be consumed by the emotions swirling inside him like something wasn’t balanced, but now he was suffering a pain caused by Charlie, but it had a double layering effect to it. The injury he caused and the literal sturdiness of his jaw made his entire hand hurt.

Looking at him, he needed to control himself. God, Marco really needed to find that center again.

But he couldn’t.

Not now and especially not after Charlie just...stood there.

Limping forward, Marco was slow in closing the gap between him and Charlie. He was seconds away from grabbing his shirt and pushing him further against the truck but the way that Charlie didn’t move startled him. “What do you want me to say, Charlie? Do you want me to say that I hate you? Is that why you came when I called? Jesus Christ…” In a fit of frustration, he stomped the ground with both feet and gritted his teeth again from the stupidity that hindsight gave it. “God-fucking-damnit! You did this, you know? You don’t say anything and now because of you, I have a bum leg! Because you...Because you decided that you had to make people pay, you made..”

Fuck, what was he saying? No, that’s not true. Did...he really feel this way? This...wasn’t like the Marco Brady that was so full of life...or was this who he became?

Marco sank to the ground and his head lowered as he hit the grass with a close fist out of pure frustration at himself.

“I did do that and you didn’t do anything Marco, you were just there”

Charlie’s response was very matter of fact; in that moment it didn’t seem as if Marco needed an answer as to why or for a glimpse into the psyche of the mad man who shot up a school and the kids inside whom he had known since kindergarten. Acting as he was, as the boy he used to be, Charlie hated this but it’s who the former football star needed him to be right now. He had spent years in the afterlife regretting every decision he had ever made but Marco didn’t know that and he didn’t need to know that unless he wanted to.

“What is it you want, Marco? You called me here. Do you want an apology? Do you want to know why? Or do you just want to get a good look at the monster that haunts everyones dreams in some morbid curiosity? Man up and tell me what you want?!”

Marco felt silence take him in her grasp. The pain lingered, but he internalized it and kept it bottled up for what probably seemed like an eternity. He just...sat on the grass. He looked at the ground. At his hands. He replayed those moments before and after he was shot in his head, reliving it over and over and over and over again. He tried to make sense of it and maybe find an answer to Charlie’s questions.

But there was nothing. Nothing that made any sense, anyway. He just kept going back to what his other self said. How he needed to confront his external crisis. How he would know what he needed from Charlie when the time came.

The longer he sat there, lamenting about the past and thinking about it, he still didn’t know. Deep down, he just didn’t understand anything right now. “I...don’t know.” He finally broke the silence and his body shook as he raised up his head to meet Charlie’s gaze. “I-I thought…” Marco grunted as he got to a vertical base. He wobbled in place, but remained steady. He glared at Charlie, feeling the anger rise up again but he didn’t feel anything violent in that ire. It was controlled now. That one punch he gave was all of the hurt he endured during the months after he was shot. “I thought if I saw you and I was face to face with the person who did this to me -- and yes, you did this to me. You may not have been aiming at me, but you did it. And I thought if I saw you again, I’d know what I’d want to say or do. But..”

Another moment of silence. Marco bit his lip, curled his right hand into a fist (more out of habit than anything else) .

And then he took a deep breath.

“But I honestly don’t know what I want. I know it’s not an apology and I sure as hell didn’t want to see you dead. My Ma would never forgive me if I ever wished death upon anyone. Even if it was you. And I’m not going to do this anymore. Whatever is happening here, I’m done. Charlie Decker, I still hate you, but I don’t need to see you anymore. I think...that’s what the other me meant. I don’t know if that makes any sense to you or if you even know what I’m talking about, but it’s me, as you say, manning up.” He hated that he laughed for a short second after he said that.

“About time, Marco.” Charlie leaned back against a car, relaxing his posture and transforming from a menacing presence to a far more relaxed one. He placed his hands into his pockets before glancing over towards the soccer field where their last meeting had taken place.

“It’s not about what I took from you and I did take from you, it’s never been about that. Marco you had plans and dreams and a future but what you never got was that you still do. Yeah, maybe you’re not going to be playing for LA Galaxy but maybe that’s not where you're supposed to end up. The fact of the matter is, by letting the memory of what I did go and what you were supposed to be, you’re going to open up an entirely new road for yourself. There are times in our lives where we find ourselves at a crossroads. This is yours. It’s your choice if you wanna go down it”

There was a bittersweet feeling starting to swell up inside him. Hearing Charlie make actual sense was a pill he wasn’t ready to swallow yet. Hearing that he wasn’t to blame, though deep down Marco knew the deceased boy was right, he wasn’t ready to accept it. The pain he felt was still there and even though he has accepted some truth of this whole ordeal, he just wasn’t at that point that he could willingly accept what Charlie said, let alone make any decisions about letting go.

But that was okay. Actually it was more than okay.

As he looked at Charlie, his face still filled him with anger that he just couldn’t control, he didn’t want to hit him. This…journey was rough and the past twelve or so hours had been more mentally taxing on him than actually getting shot had. That was crazy, but it was the truth and he was ready to just be done with it. Maybe Charlie understood that because now that he was looking up at the boy, he noticed he didn’t look as…death-ridden. His features were cleaner, like the Charlie that Marco remembered from before the shooting. The Charlie that he remembered passing in the halls of Edenridge sometimes.

And then Marco let out a small laugh. “No, I don’t think that I will.” Of course, he had to say the iconic line from Avengers: Endgame. “At least, not right now.” Marco limped past Charlie and was on the driver’s side of the truck. His hand was gripping the door handle and turned his head at Charlie. “I never thought I would say this, but thanks for helping, Charlie.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Marco. You still have a ways to go but good luck” Charlie nodded towards his former classmate. He had hoped that what he had said would be enough to help the boy out. Marco was never a friend and they were barely even acquaintances but he had suffered more than most because of what Charlie did. If he could give him any sort of closure, he felt it was his duty. He glanced up behind Marco at the school and he felt a pain in his heart. It wasn't a pleasant feeling to be reminded that he never truly left. He sadly turned his back and walked towards the football field, fading into the night.

Ever since moving to Edenridge, Alexandria Davies’ celebration of holidays looked different. This time last year, she would be dancing around the rooms of her tiny Boston college apartment, neck-deep into preparations for a Halloween party that all of her friends would be attending. They’d dress up in stupid costumes, drink cheap booze, play silly games, laugh at corny jokes, chatter about everything and nothing, and dance their hearts out into the night.

This year, Lex had taken up position on the couch in the living room of her cozy Southside apartment, wearing her boyfriend's oversized Edenridge High Football T-shirt and some fluffy socks, with the sounds of the film Halloweentown 2 keeping her company. A half-empty basket of laundry sat on the floor next to her, with two separate piles of men’s and women’s clothing growing taller and taller with each garment she absentmindedly folded, all while waiting for Mika to come back with their dinner. The young woman’s eyes were glued to the screen, her attention only wandering long enough to ensure she’d folded the item correctly before turning back to Marnie and Luke trying to find a way to return to the mortal world before midnight.

Two years ago, she would've laughed at the outlandish idea of staying in on such a fun holiday like Halloween. Today, Lex was perfectly content with her new domesticated lifestyle and her plans for the night: lots of Asian food, a marathon of old horror movies, and cuddling up against her favorite person in the world.

”Sooooo, when are we going to get to the real stuff?” An all too familiar voice poised. ”Like, let’s skip the Disney section unless it’s Hocus Pocus, cos that shit is bomb and put a slasher movie on?”

Alexandria flinched at the unexpected interruption, and let out a loud gasp of surprise as soon as she'd whipped around in the direction of the voice and her eyes spotted something just plain unbelievable.

"Hey Lexie.”

There was no immediate response. Lex was too shocked to speak. Sitting beside her on the couch was Allison; still as youthful and as beautiful as ever. The youngest Davies (now three years older than Allison would ever be) stared up at sister with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape as she studied the other woman's every feature. Her skin still held the slight tan from the Davies last family vacation to Havana to see their grandmother; she was lucky, when she tanned naturally, it always lasted for months. Ally’s long brown hair hung across her shoulders and draped onto her emerald and white cheerleading uniform ever so slightly. She had not aged a day over seventeen.

"Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?" the brunette asked herself in a whisper, still fixated on just how alive Allison looked beside her. "Did I fall asleep watching the movie? Did I forget to take my meds this morning? There's no fucking way this is real, there's no fucking way…"

“You’re not dreaming…hang on”

Allison jumped up to her feet and hurried into the kitchen. She returned to her shocked sibling a second later, now dressed in her PJ tank top and shorts; which at present still sat in her old room at the Davies house. She jumped back onto the couch next to her baby sister, crossing her legs and tying her hair up onto a bun like she used to on their movie nights. Ally offered Lex her sweet smile as she reached out and intertwined her fingers with her siblings. She was cold to touch but Lexie’s warmth soon began to fill her being.

”I don’t know how long I have, so just go with it, bean-- okay?” There was just a subtle hint of desperation in her words. Ally had been watching, waiting from the other side for what felt like forever: unable to speak, to sing… And now there she was, with the person she missed the most.

“You grew up so beautiful.”

Whatever words Alexandria had wanted to say immediately choked up in her throat after hearing Allison’s last sentence, and her green eyes filled with tears. The plethora of questions running through her mind about the unusual situation they were going through were pushed to the side as realization about the event that was occurring began to sink in. How many times had Lex asked any deity who would listen for an opportunity to come face to face with her sister again? How many nights had she spent crying, her heart hurting with the grief of her loss, the anger of her decision, the pain of missing her, the helplessness of knowing she wasn't able to help, the guilt of not seeing the signs until it was too late… Lex had so many questions, so many thoughts, so many things she’d always wanted to tell Allison but couldn’t...

And, finally, here was the chance she had so desperately been seeking. Would she take it, or would she continue to let her doubts.

Not a chance.

Without wasting any more time, Lex shifted around the couch closer to Ally. She reached out to affectionately touch her sister’s perfect face for a moment before she wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace and started to cry.

Allison wrapped her arms around her baby sister and began to squeeze, tears welling up in her dark eyes she nuzzled her face into the crook of Lexie’s neck. She had watched over her sister for six years, desperate to reach out but unable to do so. She had spent all that time thinking about everything that had led her to that fateful night in the house of ReyRey Gonzalez and everything that she had been unable to be a part of because of it.

Alexandria may look a little different and dress a little different but she still smelled exactly the same: like Marc Jacobs' Daisy. All these years later, and she hadn’t changed her perfume. It was the same one that Ally gifted her every year for her birthday; just one of their many traditions.

After a blissful moment of affection; the former Queen of Eden pulled away from her younger sister's embrace but still held her arms around her waist. With a wry smile, Allison gazed upon Lexie once more.

"I love you, kid.”

The shorter girl sniffled loudly and nodded. "I love you too," Alex croaked, wiping her face with one of the washcloths she'd picked up from the laundry basket on the floor beside her. "Everybody loved you here, Ally-- everybody loved you so much. That's why, no matter how hard I try to find a reason, I just can't understand why you… did it..." she trailed off, voice cracking at her last words. She didn't mean to sound accusatory or resentful. She was simply trying to get the answer to the question that had been haunting her for the last six years.

Of course this question was coming.

To someone looking from the outside in, Allison Davies had it all. She was beautiful, popular, intelligent, the entire world was at her fingertips. Yet when she took her own life in the winter of 2016, it stunned everyone. It was probably the utter shock and suddenness of her death which made it easier for people to find something else, someone else to blame. For years, Allison’s death had been attributed to Charlie Decker, a broken boy who did bad things. He poisoned her out of spite for some hidden slight and on the night in question she was merely experimenting at a party like most teenagers would.

The guilt and shame she felt for that still broke her heart. He didn’t do anything and they painted him with the brush of a monster.

It was only recently that it was discovered that Allison Davies was not poisoned. Through some intrepid detective work and the testimony of one of the Edenridge Notorious, it came to light that the perfect girl wilfully took her own life.

“I didn’t plan it, Bean.” Ally caressed her younger sister's face with her thumb, wiping away a track of tears as she did. ”In the moment, I was lost and it was the closest emergency exit.” Allison had thought about this moment for all this time, trying to find the words to explain why she did what she did. ”There was a lot of things people didn’t know, just like everyone in the world I had my secrets”

“But that didn’t mean you had to go through things alone,” Lex told her sister, taking her free hand and squeezing it in reassurance. “I know we probably weren’t as close as we would’ve wanted to be back then, but you could’ve come to me at any time.”

Allison directed her smile again at her baby sister. ”Hindsight is twenty twenty, Lexie” She finally released Alexandria from her grip and placed her own chin in her hands. ”What happened to me doesn’t matter anymore. It’s all about you and what comes next for you. Tell me everything.” Ally had been watching over Lex all her life and she knew exactly what had been going on, even after her death but she still wanted to hear it from her sister's mouth; she may be a ghost but she still loved the gossip.

“What happened to you will always matter, Ally. But I’ll go ahead and fill you in, at your request.” Lex took a deep breath and smiled at her sister. "Well, for starters, I kinda went off the deep end for a bit, if I'm honest..." the girl admitted with a grimace. "Mom and Dad went hardcore strict on me after you passed-- my therapist thinks that latching onto me was their way of dealing with their grief. I was so desperate to forget everything that was happening that I started smoking pot and hooking up with one of the Southie dealers. I guess I wasn't being as slick as I thought I was or whatever, because I got caught in the end..." she told Allison, shaking her head in visible embarrassment at the actions of her younger self. She knew that everything that she’d gone through had made her the woman she was today, but that didn’t make her any less embarrassed about her past misdeeds.

"They shipped me to some inpatient psych facility in the city, and then they sent me to a military boarding school up there when I got better. And to mine and everyone’s surprise, I did get better. They gave me a diagnosis at the facility, so they were able to get me the right meds and the right treatment. When I was given the all-clear to go back to school, I went without a fight. I started to do well in my classes again, I made some new friends, and even dated one of my classmates for a while." Lex suddenly paused for a moment, took a second to look across the room and pointed to a framed photo sitting atop the fireplace. In the image, the brunette's short, petite figure could be seen with her arms wrapped around the waist of a blond-haired, blue-eyed, chiseled young man who towered over her, his hands resting on her hips as they wore matching Class A cadet uniforms and wide grins.

"Meeting Jonah and the time we spent together was definitely one of the highlights of my time at Bedford. And even though he and I broke up right after graduation, we’re still really good friends. He’s deployed in Japan right now, but he makes a point to call me every other week so we can catch up on whatever's new. After high school, I went off to college for two years, made a few more friends and left with a associates nursing degree under my belt. And after getting a call about a super irresistible job offer with Sinclair Health, I moved back here. I've got plans to get my BSN eventually, but for now I'm just focusing on getting the experience and enjoying myself."

”What a life so far, bean.”

Ally beamed. All of this she already knew, she had been watching over her after all but it was nice to hear it all in her sister's words, in her sister's voice. ”And you still have so much to do, trust me.” Allison leaned back on the couch and put her legs atop her little sister's lap. It was just an Allison move; make yourself comfortable anywhere you were. She glanced around the apartment, soaking in everything about it. So much of it screamed of Lex’s individuality, but there were few small touches that weren’t her... They belonged to someone else, someone that Lexie obviously cared about.

"So what’s the dirt on Mika then? How deep in this are you?”

At the mention of Mika Zima, Alexandria's face broke into the biggest, brightest of grins. "You're not going to believe this, but we live together," Lex gushed, green eyes shining as she was reminded of the person who had chosen her to be his sidekick in the path of life. "Mika and I actually live together. Can you believe that? All those years of him being my high school crush, and we ended up as boyfriend and girlfriend sharing this cozy little apartment together. It still blows my mind when I think about it, honestly."

Ally smiled as the happiness just radiated off of her sibling. She deserved all of the joy that the world could give her and if Mika was the one to do that, then so be it. Allison herself was not the best judge of character when it came to men so she dearly hoped that Lex had a better system. “That’s great Lex, I’m really happy that you’ve found someone to hold on to…” She couldn’t feel her sisterly instincts kicking in and she really just couldn’t help herself. ”…that said, you’re a big girl now, and you can make your own decisions-- which I will trust wholeheartedly. But just… Do me a favor? Be careful. I don’t know much about Mika but I knew his brother, and he was nastier and more vile than anyone else I’ve ever met. There’s something ugly eating away inside and I hope Mika doesn’t have the same problem.”

Lexie confidently shook her head and gave her sister a reassuring smile. She’d heard about Hyde and all the infamous actions he had committed from Mika himself. But even with her boyfriend's Serpent affiliation and his Honey Badger street persona, she was certain of the kind, caring, funny, loyal and affectionate man she was sharing her life with. "I appreciate the concern, Ally-- I do. But trust me when I say he doesn't. I know Mika’s not an angel. I knew that from the start, even before I dove in headfirst into this whole thing. But if there’s one thing I’m one hundred percent sure of, is that he’s as opposite from his brother as anyone could ever be. Does he have some issues? Yeah. So do I-- and so do all of us, for that matter. Mika’s not perfect by any means, but I wouldn’t want him to be. Even with all his virtues and his flaws, he’s the right one for me.”

Suddenly, the door opened and a noticeable thud sound reverberated through the thin walls of the apartment. It was the kind of sound that a heavy bag of some kind would make when it was tossed without care. Mika walked in and went for the kitchen first as he caught the last half of Lex’s praise(?) for him. After the day he’d had, it wasn’t a surprise that he saw Lex’s dead sister just sitting on the couch like nothing was strange about it. “Damn straight I’m not an Angel,” Mika clarified, sporting a grin for both sisters. “I mean, you know how long I’d be sucking those older Angels of Eden’s dicks just to get out of prospect territory? Couldn’t be me.” He’d laugh as he looked between the two. “I’m a serpent because, A it’s much cooler than being an angel, but also B, it’s in my blood…so to speak.”

"My boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen," Alexandria laughed as she shook her head. Leave it to Mika to make his appearance in his usual blunt and crass fashion. She'd never wanted it to be any other way.

The former Queen looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. ”I think it’s about time I made a move. I’ve got a few more people to see before this is all over,” Allison jumped up to her feet and her visage slowly began to dissolve back to what it was when she first arrived, looking as she did on the day of her departing from the world. “Plus I reckon you two deserve a little alone time. Stay wrapped up all warm in here while the monsters play outside for the rest of the night.”

The Queen watched as her skin began to decolorize and become paler, she could feel the small burning in her throat from where the vomit choked the life out of her. She didn’t want her sister to see her like that. Nobody should’ve seen her like that but they did and she couldn’t take it back. She jumped forward and propped a soft kiss to her baby sister's forehead and made her way towards the door which Mika had just entered through.

She stopped suddenly in her tracks and her face scrunched up. Fuck it. They were warned not to interfere with the flow of the world but she couldn’t help herself. Allison turned back to Alexandria and Mika as her eyes began to bloodshot.

”Before I go, I need you two to know: things are only going to get worse from here. There’s so much darkness coming and it’s at the edge of town now. Get out. Leave. I’m not supposed to say this but this place is going to burn and I don’t know who survives but it needs to be you. I love you.”

And as if snatched from existence, before Alexandria and Mika could even react, Allison was gone by the end of her last sentence.

On nights like this, Mika found himself drifting back to the past. Thinking about the chilly nights spent in New York. the chill that always came in pair: both with the weather and how often his father’s red-hot temper and the voice that could reach even those miles away that came off as such a paralyzing coldness, he couldn’t help but think about it.

As he was sitting up top of the Gonzalez house and just watched the dark sky, the moon and stars familiarizing themselves with each other, he was tuning in to that Mei Midnight’s thing. He was flipping through a few channels and happened to catch it. He didn’t think that this old stereo had her...whatever you called it on its frequency, but tonight had been full of so many weird happenings that Mika shrugged it away. He usually would try and question it and maybe get to the bottom of why his vivid thoughts were taking shape and why he could still hear his father’s temper flare as if he was screaming right at him.

But it made very little sense. It also made little sense as to why he was feeling exceptionally reminiscent of the past. Like how he was thinking back to the last time he saw Veronika.

It was a year before he came to live with Big Rey. It was a year before his father made a mistake he couldn’t undo. Alexei was not only someone Mika cherished over everyone else but, she was his oldest friend.

Was? She is his oldest friend.

Veronika Petronova.

He can still remember how much lip she gave him. Not on his lip but how she talked to him. Their families were allies in the war between the Russian Elite. So they were always together. Always near each other. She was the only member of his crew that wasn’t a boy, but damn it if Ronnie wasn’t a touch son of a bitch when it mattered. Among his group of hardasses: between Alexei, Vlad, Vik, and Pavel, Ronnie was the toughest out of all of them. She was fearless and unapologetic. She could just as easily win you over with her tenderness and surprise you with a kick in the yaitsa (balls) if you weren’t careful.

She was everything to Mika. They say you shouldn’t fall for your friends and Mika probably didn’t even know that he had, but when he fell for Ronnie, he did so without realizing it.

And then…

“Why did you do it?” He heard himself ask. Obviously there was nobody there to answer. Why would he even get an answer? “Not like you’re even here anymore, Ronnie. It’s not like you can actually hear me.”

”Don’t say things that aren’t true, Misha!”

“Oh great, now I’m hearing things. Next thing that’ll happen is--”

And then an icy feeling passed through him. At the moment it did, Mika saw those familiar eyes flow past him and he turned around, looking at all angles: behind him, above, side to side, and repeating until he exhausted himself only for him to see her to his right, waving at him like the smartass that he remembered she was.

“This is a dream, isn’t it? God, I knew I shouldn’t have snuck that last slice of Dolce de Leches. And now I’m suffering for it.”

There was a laugh from the person he thought was Ronnie. “Since when did you get all fancy? Mr ‘I can barely spell my own birth name’. You sure have grown, huh?”

It was just a dream. Just a dream and Mika was going to wake up to the sound of Ley pounding on his door for eating last piece that was meant for her.

“Miiiishaaaaaa!~” She teased and kept singing until he paid attention.

“There’s no way you’re real. You’re...not here. You haven’t been here for over five years.”

“And yet, here I am in the flesh...so to speak.” She laughed and Mika’s heart sank a few levels.

“Blyat. There’s just no way you’re here.”

He was still in a state of disbelief. And that was rare for Mikhail zima. If it was his imagination, then all he had to do was blink a few times or shake his head, and that would be the end of it.

So he did.

One blink. Two blink. Three blinks

One shake. Two shake. Three shak--

“You know you look pretty stupid doing that. It’s like we’re kids again and right after you tried your first sip of actual alcohol, you couldn’t handle it.” Ronnie laughed, leaning in front of Mika as their faces were right next to each other. “Or are you just nervous about being near me again?” She asked, looking at him with an expression mixed with curiosity and that same show of her personality that Mika remembered. “Oh I know! You remembered how often I used to kick your ass at kickball and you want to push that memory back! I mean I can’t blame you for that. I was pretty amazing. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to--”

“Oh for the love of--” Mika finally acknowledged Ronnie or the Ghost of Ronnie and looked at her. “That’s not why and you know it. Or do you not even remember?”

The air suddenly became thick with tension as both of them fell silent. She looked at him and he looked at her. Their gaze had said more than any of her rambling or him trying to ignore that this was happening could ever do. The unspoken words between them, the things he never got to say to her and the confusion he left for him and at such a young age too.

“Yeah…” She spoke, looking down at her pale legs and feeling only what she assumed were residual feelings of guilt from when she had been alive. “I know.”

Mika couldn’t look at her right now so he looked up, seeing the sky dance with the stars and moon. Or maybe that’s just what he wanted to see right now. “I don’t know why you never told me, Ron. Were things really so bad for you?”

“It was..complicated. I guess, I don’t even know why it happened. It just did.” The sadness in her voice was obvious.

And that was what angered Mika the most. Thinking back, he never saw any of the signs. She was feisty and caring, so how come he never noticed it? “I just wish you could have told me. I wish--”

“Wish what? That you could have stopped it? Misha, you and I were just kids. You could barely stop people from ripping on your father. Or those bulgarian punks who tried messing with your sisters. What happened..that wasn’t your fault. My dad...and…” Again, she fell silent. The words too hard to say aloud.

So Mika would continue for her. “I know, he was a bastard. Mine’s a bastard too. But I didn’t think it was that bad for you.”

As she let those words sink in and she looked to Mika, Ronnie gave her friend a smile. “Misha..there wasn’t anything you or anyone else could have done. I hope you know that. My dad was the accelerant, but he didn’t deliver the final blow. I had more issues than I care to admit. I guess now, in whatever this whole thing is with me being here and apparently looking like how I would have if I had lived, what’s done is done. I know nobody could have stopped me. You understand? It’s not your fault I took my own life.”

Hearing it after so many years made Mika angry, but finally looking at her and he saw the tears flow down her ghostly face. It wasn’t that she was a literal ghost because Ronnie had always been pale, but seeing the genuine emotion on her face sent a whirlwind of emotions -- ones Mika thought he had moved on from.

For a lot of nights after it happened, he kept thinking about what he could’ve done to change it all? What could have he done? He didn’t know then and even hearing it he still didn’t know. Losing Ronnie did a lot of harm to him. Maybe it was the catalyst as to why he got into a fight with the son of his father’s rival and why he ended up in Edenridge. Or maybe he was just destined to become the disappointment. Any of those felt like the right answer, but how fucked was it that he thought any of that was right? How fucked was he to think that her dying was right?

It wasn’t right, but Ronnie was the kind of person who always saw the good even in the darkest days.

“So what do I do now?”

And she was gone. Just like that. She came to assure him that it wasn’t his fault or that Mika being here and she wasn’t somehow wasn’t his doing.

As he watched the final stages of the sunrise, Mika was left with so many unsaid words, but they would just be a repeat of what had already been said. Maybe this was the time for him to catch some sleep if he could, but he didn’t feel tired. Even if he wanted to, there was no doubt that his family would be waking up soon and he just couldn’t think straight right now. Maybe he should call Lex? Or maybe he should try and summon Ronnie back? Would that be a better option? Try and get her back? No...Mika couldn’t do that.

Minutes and minutes went by as he was so deep in his own self-inflicted misery, constantly wondering what should he do now?

"Well, don't you just look cheery," Danny's voice faded in from his left, the boy also sitting on the roof with his arms thrown behind him for support. He grinned at Mika sadly from his spot. "'M guessin' I'm not the only one who decided ta visit?"

He wasn’t so much surprised that Danny had decided to visit him. Honestly, he didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but given that Ronnie, of all people, would come to him in some manner (maybe as a manifestation of his thoughts), but seeing someone who he genuinely bonded with above most, well it was enough to make Mika actually shed a couple of tears.

And he did when he brought the kid into an embrace. It was sudden and without warning. Mika seldom did this because, well, he had the rep of someone who showed emotion like a textbook case of a man with severe toxic masculinity, but he was alone on the roof with Danny and...it was Danny. “I missed you, brat.” Mika said into Danny’s shoulders. God, even still smelled like that kid’s second hand leather and two different types of smoke; a bit of Decky's scent with the addition of Danny's own favorite wrap flavor- grape Swishers- and the fireplace the Boaz brothers had in their apartment. Talk about bringing him back.

"Ah shit, 'm makin' everyone cry t'night," Danny sniffed, gripping Mika tight and burying his head into his shoulder much like he had done earlier with Decky. Mika was just as much his brother as Decky, and Sonny, and the rest of the Serpents and even Charlie. There was nothing that would keep Danny from showing affection to them whenever he was able, for as long as he could get away with. He didn’t see Mika cry much, but he had a feeling that he and Decky had seen it more often than most, having built up the necessary trust to be let past that wall. “‘M sorry I couldn’t get here earlier, I’ve had a lotta visits ta get through.”

And it was true, he’d spent a considerable amount of time with Decky, and the other three Southies once Charlie’d shown up. Then he’d hopped over to visit Sonny; the older man was a drunken, faded mess when he’d arrived, and Danny learned that Sonny had gotten plenty of visits from past crew members and even his parents. Once he was able to make sure Sonny was away from weapons and safely puking his guts out in the bathroom, Danny had worriedly hopped to Phil and had his nerves calmee as the man cried and cradled his small form like he would turn to smoke. Beau and his wife were much the same, and Danny reveled in the parental warmth that he could only feel metaphysically.

Then it was off to the other Serpents, though he saw how happy Creed and Jokes were through the curtains, their family finally full once more, so he simply smiled and focused on his next location. They didn’t need his help tonight. Prof and Fins were doing ok, but they had just had a baby and were passed out long before he showed up in the dead of night to say hi. Duke, however, was there on the couch, baby bundled in his arms and cooing at it in a manner no one would ever really see outside the safety of that apartment. He was also relaxed in a way he never is in public, so Danny lamented over the fact that he couldn’t scare a man holding an infant in his arms. He stayed and talked with Duke for almost an hour, gushing over the baby and getting his updates on the Booker family. That led him to visiting Dutchess and Ransom, who were in the middle of smoking themselves stupid with Molotov and Meredith. After that it was off to see Lanie, who let him watch over her baby while she bawled her eyes out on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him.

Busy didn't cut it.

Now, though, he was on his final visit of the night, and he could feel himself fading the closer the sun came to rising.

Fast forward a few minutes spent not living up to stereotypes that most associate Mika with and showing a lot of emotion with the only person he could get emotional like this and not feel like he had to punch a shoulder, Mika was able to look at Danny’s face without getting filled up on said emotions. “Can’t say I’m surprised you’d be busy; a lot of people miss that almost-too-cute of a face to hate. Present company included.”

Truth be told, he missed Danny more than he was letting on. Seeing his face brought him back to a time when his life wasn’t so fucked.

Okay, that was a lie.

He was actually in a solid place now. Of course, he still had the worry of his father’s son creeping around any chance he felt like tormenting Mika. Hyde was an SOB in so many different ways and his torture was creative and almost genius in its own twisted way. But with Lex and them living together in the same building that a lot of Serpent and allies live, Mika could say life was good. Tonight just happened to be special because the time he found himself plagued by thoughts and prayers of the past would be when he was visited by both his darkness and what he has always considered his light.

“I’m honestly just grateful for this time. Shit’s been a roller coaster. Sometimes it’s wack and then sometimes it’s just wacky.” He laughed as he glanced up at the sky. It was still dark, though specs of light were starting to break through, but he didn’t know if that was good or not.

"Almost too cute?" Danny scoffed while smirking and staying leaned up against Mika. "I'm fuckin' adorable! Everyone says it!" He nudged Mika's shoulder, missing the ability to feel the warmth all his brothers provided. "I'm grateful too. I needed ta get a lotta your heads on straight, one way or another. Ya guys gotta stick together when I'm gone again, yeah?" He asked, closing his eyes as his head dropped onto Mika's shoulder. He probably had another minute or two before he was gone. He didn't fix anyone tonight, maybe kicked them towards a better path but definitely not fixed. Nothing can get fixed in a night; not Decky's drug issues, or Poppy's mental state, or Jade's guilt and worries. Not what Charlie did to all of them. Not the holes that were left.

But they can work towards it. They can fill the holes in over time, if they all have each other. So Danny decided to ask for one thing he never dared to when he was alive. The one thing no Southies dare ask for.

"Promise me?"

Mika smiled at Danny’s request…no, maybe it was more of a plead than a request?

It felt strange for the Zima boy. As he stared off into whatever was in front of him, which happened to be the tracks that separated the Southside and the Northside, it always made him laugh how there could be such little space between them, yet be worlds apart. It was a funny thing because this life that he lived, the life of being Ivan Zima’s son as well as Big Rey Gonzalez’s son (though not by blood) had always defined him and confined him to this life. So, in a way, he had always stuck with his own kind. Maybe it’s why he never allowed himself to admit what he felt for Cece or let her know what he felt once upon a time.

Not that he felt any reason to linger about her. Danny’s plead just caught him off guard if he was honest and forced a sentimental reminiscence to consume him. Truth of the matter was that Danny didn’t need to ask. ]“Silly kid..” He muttered, smiling as he leaned into Danny while keeping his eyes forward. “You never need to ask. Southside for life, right?” Maybe famous last words, but they were ones Mika stood by more than anything. They were his family and he’d die for them if need be.

Danny smiled, eyes still shut as he let out a sigh he didn't need. "For life." He echoed, before his weight disappeared from Mika's side, leaving the man alone with the newly risen sun.