Just Here Honestly

In her right hand, she clutched a sturdy case that held her father’s precious violin. She had grown up as a peasant farmer’s daughter back in Sweden, but the brightest joy she had ever known was witnessing her parent’s burning passion for music. As a small child, she would watch them perform together, her mother’s voice a sweet accompaniment to the strings in which her father played. After she passed away, Christine joined his trips to different fairs and ceremonies, where he fiddled to his heart’s delight. 

He had been so talented, so passionate in what he played, that he became a renowned musician. People would flock to him when he performed, and her father was all too happy to relive his past experiences in his daughter. He encouraged her to sing the same songs her mother had, to dance the way she used to, to get lost in the sounds and dizzying experiences that his music caused. She became a supporting role in his musical performances, singing and dancing along to whatever he played. 

All of those memories were contained in this violin case, which her shaking hand desperately clung onto. It was the last remnant she had of her father. No matter what happened, she couldn’t part with it. 

In her other hand, she held a small bag that contained the rest of her belongings. Inside was a framed photo of her father, a few pieces of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and her worn brush that did more harm than good. While they lived in better conditions with the Professor and Mama Valérius, she and her pappa seldom held onto material items, having learned that their experiences were far more valuable, and no one could ever take that from them. 

And so she stood there, holding so little in her hands, watching everything get taken from her again. Her eyes flew over to the window where her father used to play his violin, and then to the front yard where she chased her childhood friends around while under Madame’s supervision. She allowed a single tear to escape from her eye, turning her head to avoid the painful sight. She gathered everything she needed from here. There was no need to loiter and watch them completely strip the walls of clocks and family photographs. 

Christine began her departure down the streets, her eyes trained on the dirt beneath her. For being twenty five years of age, she hardly felt like a proper adult. She had not been prepared for any of this. She knew she had to save money, needed to plan on where to live and what to do for when Mama Valérius eventually left her. But when one lost all of their family and their only home, with no one by her side, it was hard to stay sane.

At some point, she set down her things and buried her face in her hands, trying to come to terms with it all. She had nothing. How could fate have taken everything from her like this? Her heart had broken for her Mamma, her tears endless for the kind Professor who had taken them in, and she completely broke for her dear father, who gave her everything he could and then some. Now she felt empty and numb for Madame, whose excitable voice she could remember like it was yesterday. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she spoke softly to herself, eyes lifting to the sky as if in search of answers. “Who is going to guide me now?” 

Unfortunately, she received no reply from the heavens above. She sucked in a breath before lifting herself back to her feet and heading onwards. She had rented a room at a nearby hotel, one that fit her budget and could provide her refuge for at least a week. She would continue to find whatever work she could with the hopes of affording some run-down room somewhere that protected her from the dark streets of France. 

She no longer dreamed of a future where she sang and danced with her father, or provided for Mama Valérius using the gift of her voice. She wasn’t sure if she even had a dream anymore. 

--

Christine arrived at the hotel by the evening. She’d been dragging her feet the whole way, reluctant to travel so far from what had been her longtime home. Her eyes felt lifeless as they scanned the building. The exterior was dirty with its paint worn and chipping in some areas. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, and it surely lacked the fine quality and resources that the more expensive lodgings had, but it was something. And at this point, she simply wanted a reprieve from it all. 

She checked in at the front desk, whose receptionist was more nosy than she was comfortable with. 

“Staying alone, mademoiselle?” he asked, under what she assumed were polite pretenses. 

“As of the moment. May I have my key, please?”

He relinquished it to her with a smile, his eyes falling to the violin case still clutched in her hand. “A musician, are you? You are free to play in your room from the afternoon to four o’ clock. ”

“Oh, no,” she began furtively shaking her head. “I don’t play. Not - not anymore.” 

“My apologies.”

He must have sensed her withdrawal and didn't pry, allowing the woman to leave for her room. Her steps were quick as she purposefully avoided any curious eyes that found her. It wasn’t unusual for a woman to be seen without an escort in these areas, but her appearance had a way of catching the attention of nearby passerbyers. She remembers one time, after her mother died, her father had brushed the dirty blonde coils of her hair behind her ear while looking at her with a reminiscent glimmer in his eyes. And then he told her:

“You look just like your Mamma, Älskling. She turned heads all the time. And you? You will be no different, I am sure.” 

He said she looked so much like her mother. But she had always seen her father’s eyes in her own. And those were the windows to her soul, were they not? 

She inserted the key and turned the knob, wasting no time throwing herself in her room and locking it behind her again. She was done dealing with reality today. Life was nothing but one loss after another, an endless series of grief she’d never recover from. She would like to keep someone in her life for once. Someone who would not eventually leave her, who would stay by her side and share the only pleasure in her life.

Music.

Her hazel eyes wandered over to observe where she was staying. A full-sized bed sat in the room with blankets that looked like they hadn’t been washed in months. From where she was standing, she could see how lumpy the pillow was. The floor itself was far from pristine, with bits and pieces still lodged in the carpet. The only adequately-clean things in the room was the empty closet and the desk with a chair sitting in front of it, which she forced under the doorknob for the worst case scenario. 

She had been taken care of for most of her life - had her father or another parental figure constantly watching over her. For as long as she’s known, she’s always had food to eat and a roof over her head, even if that meant her dinner was a piece of stale bread and she lived in a small farmhouse with a leaky roof. They may have been poor, but she had been blessed in the way of love and family. 

And now, she has neither. 

Christine brushed the crumbs aside with the sole of her shoe and lowered herself to her knees, propping her elbows up on the edge of the bed. She lifted her head and closed her eyes, just as she had done the day before her prior home had been taken. 

“Pappa,” she began, choking on the first word before it ever came out. She spoke in Swedish, for it was the only opportunity to do so in her French-filled days. “I am alone now, as you know. They have taken our home. Not all is lost, but I have been missing you. Now that I am the only one left, I can’t help remembering what you told me.” 

She lowered her head and cleared her throat, feeling the tears stinging her eyes. She let them fall. No one was here to see. She could cry to her heart’s content. The world could care less now that there was nothing left to take from her.

“You promised to send me an angel,” she opened her eyes and gazed out of the window, to the dimming sky outside. “The one who is never seen but heard by those meant to hear. Well, I am in need. I am sad, heartbroken, and desperate. But I do not hear a divine voice. There is no thrill in me whatsoever. And I am sure that, if I were to play, it would not sound special. So where is he, father? Where is my angel to guide me, to love me, to give me a divine voice?” 

There was a long pause of silence as she hopelessly waited for an answer. Were her prayers destined to fall on deaf ears? Should she join them all in Heaven sometime soon, just so she could have a family again? 

She shook off that last thought. Daaé would scold her for thinking of such things. Her father would want her to continue living on, even in these conditions. He had not raised her with such harsh limitations just for her to give up at the first inconvenience. Christine was strong. But, Lord, she was breaking. She needed someone. 

“If my Angel is not here, then I assume you will give me one soon,” she continued on. “Please, Pappa. I am tired of being alone. I miss our music. I want to live a normal life. I am a woman now, and I have not sinned once. All I beg of you is for a second chance.” 

It was always open. But she was taught to knock or ring, anyway, for it was the polite thing to do. She swung open the heavy door and came running in with her grandfather slowly following behind. She knew where the Doctor would be – either in his laboratory like he usually was, or lounging around with his lookalike wife, Jewel, and Igor assistant in the sitting room. To her luck, the old man happened to be sitting around chatting with his small family. The second she made her appearance, his features brightened at the sight of his granddaughter, but then his eyes grew thrice their size when Áed came in behind her. 

“My God!” He attempted to stand but his legs easily gave out. “Is that…are you…?”

“Albert!” The scarecrow laughed as he extended his arms wide, and Finkelstein returned the jovial reaction. “I thought I would never see you again, mon ami!” 

“It is! By Halloween, it really is you!” 

Tears of happiness streamed down the scientist’s pale face as he embraced his longtime friend. Desdemona grinned as she sat beside her grandmother, who complimented her outfit and asked where she got her jewelry. While they fell into conversation, Áed and Finkelstein easily began catching up. Igor rushed out of the room to fetch some refreshments for their unexpected company. By the time he came back and poured their tea, they were comfortably lounged across from each other, sharing tales and reminiscing on the past. 

“Just how did you get lost in that Hinterlands forest? And more importantly…how have you fared for so long out there?”

His jack-o’-lantern smile fell a bit and he turned away. “I wasn’t lost. I left on my own accord. I survived off of what I could scavenge from the towns.”

“Towns?” he tilted his large head. 

“Oh, oh! You’re gonna’ LOVE it, Grandpa Finkelstein!” Desdemona piped up from across the room. “Elroy found these doors in the forest with different things on them and they lead to all sorts of towns!”

He tipped his pumpkin in her direction. “Jack will announce them soon; he said he didn’t want to alarm the town with too much news at once. Having their Pumpkin Prince back and…well, me, I suppose…was enough agitation.” 

“I see, I see. I am interested to hear all about it,” he rubbed his chin with his black glove. “You said you left by your own choice? What could have possibly made you want to leave? Those days were so terrible; I wouldn’t understand anyone wanting to walk off like you did!” 

He glanced in Desdemona’s direction, who was undoubtedly eavesdropping on their conversation. He couldn’t blame her. There was so much anyone could learn by overhearing anything he spoke about with the Doctor. But it made it an inconvenient time to reveal the truth. 

“I couldn’t handle Caoimhe’s death. I was grieving in such a way that I couldn’t be here anymore,” he confessed. “And I suppose…even after all this time, I’m not entirely over it.” 

“...I understand,” Finkelstein’s voice lowered in sympathy. “I was a wreck when Bernadette passed away, you know. I thought it ironic that I would lose my wife the same way you lost yours. I suppose that just showed how entwined our lives were, haha! But…ah…it took me some time as well. Only in recent days have I been ready to move on.” 

He made sure Desdemona was preoccupied with admiring Jewel’s painted nails.“That was when you made Sally, wasn’t it?” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “What a mess that was. I created her to be my wife, only for her to want nothing to do with me. Well, in that way, at least. I suppose it’s a good thing Jack swept her away, otherwise I wouldn’t have my lovely Jewel.” 

He took a second to observe the tall woman. “She looks just like you.” 

“Exactly! And she has half my brain! Not a single soul besides yourself and my wife knows all there is about me.” 

He couldn’t help laughing. That was so much like Albert. Not a thing had changed about him, it seemed. 

“You did take care of him after I left, didn’t you? You were the only one he was so close with back in those days.” 

“But of course,” he spread out his hands with a nod. “I let the boy come into the laboratory whenever he wanted; gave him advice and answered all of his questions. But Jack didn’t come around much. I think he was still waiting for you. When he wasn’t around either of our places, he was always mucking around in the graveyard.” 

“You did me a great favor, Albert. I knew you would be his father when I wasn’t around. I owe you a great deal.” 

“Well then, I ought to cash in on that and have you join me and Desdemona! We work on our projects every week and are always coming up with something new. You should see how smart our granddaughter is!” 

His smile widened at those last words. “It’s a small world, isn’t it? You and I are in-laws now.” 

“And I couldn’t be happier! I was ecstatic to have Jack as my son, yes, but…my greatest friend is now my family. We both got lucky indeed!” 

They shared the biggest smile, and Desdemona joined in from afar. 

--

“Let’s see…I gave Elroy some pointers on scaring, Mina showed me a story she wrote about me, I showed Xavier how to conjure up more flames, Adeline interviewed me for school, and Desdemona brought me over to catch up with the Doctor. I would say it was a busy day.” 

Jack observed his father, who was sitting on the small bed in front of the fireplace in the study. This would be his second night in the Skellington Manor, and he could already tell that the morning would be hectic and loud again. His children will have so much to ask about over breakfast, then he and Elroy would announce to the town that there were six other holidays in existence. He could still barely wrap his head around it - he could only imagine how his people would react to such a revelation. 

“I can’t express my gratitude to you for letting me stay here,” Áed’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. “You know you needn’t ever forgive me.” 

“What good would that do?” the skeleton smiled warmly. “I would rather have you back in my family’s life than not at all.” 

“I know I was a terrible father, to do what I did. I hope I can make it up in this next century, if I last that long.” 

“How about you spend time with your grandchildren, reconnect with the citizens, and contribute to Halloween just like you used to? I think that’s good enough.” 

He let out a breath of warm air. “I suppose I can do that,” he studied the floor before looking back up at the Pumpkin King. “Do you still use your scarecrow, by chance?”

“On Halloween nights. And some others.” 

“Is it still terrifying?”

“Terribly so,” Jack walked over and joined him beside the fire. “Maybe a little too much. I get that from you, you know.” 

“I won’t apologize for that. You’re a Skellington; we’re meant to be scary,” his son nodded in agreement and Áed clasped his skeletal hands together. “You know, Jack, I’ve been meaning to ask…what exactly happened to that burlap friend of yours? Oogie Boogie?” 

He refused to meet his father’s gaze. “He’s no longer here.”

“So I’ve been told. But how did that come to be?” 

A long pause passed where the only thing they could hear was the cracking of the fire. After a minute, the King confessed quietly, “I killed him. He threatened Sally’s life, so I did away with him. He was no good to anybody, anyway.” 

Áed stiffened, then looked away. “I had an inclination.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“I would do anything for Caoimhe. Even murder somebody for her. And I nearly had in the past. You were so close with Oogie, I thought if you were the reason for his death, then it had to be about her.” 

His posture loosened in regret. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I didn’t think of the consequences. I acted on how I felt and that’s that. I’ve been trying not to feel that way ever again.”

“Ah, but if her life was on the line again…if your children’s lives were threatened, you would do it again, wouldn’t you?”

His bony hands clenched into fists. He tried not to think about this. Tried not to imagine scenarios where Sally and their children were forced into danger. Just once with Elroy was enough to frazzle up the entire family…but if it were up to him to save them all, then he would do anything. Get rid of anyone and anything in his way. 

His murderous tendencies were still there, and that unsettled him. 

“I’m not trying to rile you up, my boy. I’m just saying…that ferocity you’re experiencing right now? That’s what made me hide away for so long. I did everything I could to keep her safe, but in the end, I couldn’t save your mother from what killed her, and I live with that regret every day. If I could go back and find a way to cure her, I would.” 

He nodded. “I understand.” 

“But I wouldn’t worry in your case…you have a man-made creation as a wife. That alone spares her from many fates other undead have suffered from. And your children look healthy. You have centuries ahead of you two.” 

His stitched smile grew. “Merci, papa.” 

“No…thank you, Jack.” 

The young skeleton got up and left the room, heading down the winding staircase at a quick pace. He must be antsy to get back to his wife already. Áed sighed as he laid down on the thin mattress and stared at the ceiling above him. It had been far too long since he spent warm, comfortable nights in the walls of a home like this. And when he woke, he would find the downstairs dining room full of skeletons eager to see him and talk to him. 

He would have the death he always dreamed of having.