#fbale

“Stop being so hesitant.” Standing up, Andrew readjusted his hold on one of his throwing knives, feeling the ectoplasm at the tip of his fingers gather even more as he ran them along the edge. “I’ll kill him with or without your help.” Their target was a ghost, after all. This had only been borrowed time and nothing more.

Randy was silent and still beside him, uncertain look on his face finally fading into something blank and calm as he stood up as well. Two guns, both black and sleek as a piece of the sky, were clasped loosely in his hands. “As you wish.” The words were said softly, but not whispered. Andrew grinned.

“Good evening, White Fang.” Now this was going to be fun. It had been such a long time since the Priest had been able to play with his White Fang, after all. “Death never could take you forever.”

There was no word of defense or protest in any manner, Randy clasping his guns more tightly before launching forward, Andrew taking a moment to admire him before following after. There was no care for the long years that had taken place between now and then. There was only a mission, a target, and his blood slick against his knives.

::

“Stop leaving me out of things!” Andrew’s words were shrieked and torn out of him like glass from a wound, the words bouncing off the walls of his lair as he glared at Randy with everything in him. “You always do this! You always run away!”

“I’ve done nothing but try to keep you safe!” Randy snapped back, face etched into a snarl as he stalked forward, pointing at Andrew. “You’re the one who wants to run away from the truth of things!”

“Me- Me?! I’m not the one who made us run away from home! I’m not the one who ran away from me that day on the docks! I’m not the one who ran away when we tried to find each other!” Andrew didn’t bother trying to quiet himself, only screaming louder and louder as he felt tears start to cloud over his vision.

“Andy…” Randy looked like he was being hit with too many emotions at once, Andrew not able to muster up any of the guilt or pity that he would usually feel. Let Randy feel like this. It was what he deserved for trying to abandon him again. “I’m not- I’m not trying to run away from you.”

“Then what are you doing, Randy?” Andrew let the tears fall, knowing that the path they burned down his skin would be felt even worse by the man in front of him. “If not from me, then what are you trying to run away from?”

“I…” Randy still couldn’t find the words, and Andrew still couldn’t find the way to make him talk. No matter what button he seemed to press on Randy to trigger something, none of them ever let him in. “Forget it. I’ll stay here.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Andrew said quietly, knowing he was flushed from crying and feeling how his voice wanted to break and crack. “Is that so wrong?”

“No. I guess not. I’ll stay, Andy.” There. Nothing to worry about. Randy just needed to remember that they were supposed to be in this together.

::

It wasn’t hard to make the small changes he wanted - all without Randy really noticing. They may have been ghosts, but it wasn’t too difficult to grow out his hair into a nice, short ponytail. It earned him a few odd looks when Randy first saw it, but he didn’t question it, in the end.

After that, it was easy. Black started replacing the gray in his wardrobe before it began replacing the purple, as well. It was so much nicer to look down and see himself wearing black instead of that dismal gray he had fooled himself into liking.

Soon he began wearing his knife pouch again, the pouch firmly strapped to his leg and in just the perfect reach of being able to grab a knife out of it. If he started carrying the knives again, too, well… Randy never said anything.

Then he started humming that song that had been hidden for so long and even that fell on deaf ears. Oh, Andrew certainly saw the looks he was given, but Randy never did anything to stop him, and Andrew had never brought it up.

“Andrew?” He tried, occasionally, but never for long. “Are you, uh… Did your coat get damaged or anything? The purple one? I could fix it up for you, if you want.”

“I just thought I could use some change,” Andrew smiled, the smile soon dropping. “Do you not like it?”

“It’s just… familiar, is all.” The comment had Andrew fighting to hide a smirk. Poor White Fang had been chained away for far too long, this time. Andrew needed to start pulling him out. He must have gotten lost in his thoughts, because Randy took his silence as an end to the conversation. “Nevermind. I guess it’s just my imagination.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Andrew muttered, letting the tears come to his eyes – tears that he knew were acidic. “Do you really think I would go back to that so easily?” Randy had never responded to his tears, but White Fang always answered.

“No- Andy, that’s not what- Of course not.” Randy struggled through the words, but Andrew could see the flash of White Fang curled up in his eyes. Andrew wanted him back. He was so sick of this charade of pretending they were normal.

“Don’t bother. I know what you think of me.” Andrew walked off, giving Randy something to think about as he soon went back to humming. He had no doubt it wouldn’t be long now.

::

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, though. When it happened, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be the Priest and White Fang standing together, claws ready to strike and fangs ready to tear. They were supposed to be a team. They were meant to be a team.

It wasn’t supposed to end with Andrew pinned to the ground and a hand around his throat cutting off any hope of air. If he were human, Andrew had little doubt that he would already be dead. “You stupid child.” There was no Randy on top of him. There was only a ferocious White Fang with nothing except hatred in his eyes.

Andrew couldn’t drag in the breath he needed to form words, forced to do nothing but stare up at White Fang as he pressed him down into the ground, blood (or was it ectoplasm?) covering them both. White Fang had been many things, but he had never been angry. This was anger. This was anger.

“We could have been happy. We were surviving. Why would you take us back.” The words were hissed in French, a language that had once meant warmth and comfort and now only filled Andrew’s stomach with cold dread. “You stupid, stupid child.”

It took longer than he wanted, but it wasn’t just anger in White Fang’s eyes. It was White Fang’s anger, but it was Randy’s fear. Did… he really not want to return to how they used to be? He had never complained in the past. Did Andrew really push him so far that he hadn’t even been able to say no?

There was hatred in White Fang’s eyes and fear in Randy’s. Andrew couldn’t breathe and there was ectoplasm (blood) covering them with old weapons just in reach. Andrew could only stare as he took it all in, utterly surprised, because, well. White Fang’s hatred he could have handled, but Randy’s fear of him?

The hand around his throat loosened, White Fang gone and Randy left looking at him with shaking shoulders. “We could have been happy, Andy.”

“Could be a few years older than him,” Jack mused. “Crazy timing, though. It usually takes a few years for writing to show up, doesn’t it?”

“My sister had hers show up when she was a few months old, but Danny hasn’t been here for even an hour.” Carefully shifting her baby, Maddie took the arm and inspected it, heart dropping as she looked- As she read the writing. “Jack.”

She wasn’t sure if Jack tensed at her tone or the words, but they both saw it there clear as day. The words were cramped and close together on such a small arm, but there were sentences. Full, complete, and complex sentences were winding their way around Danny’s arms and the sight filled Maddie with a crushing fear and motherly instinct to hide her baby’s skin as quickly as possible. “Just how much older is his soulmate…?”

Doodles and maybe a few words would be nothing. It would have been fun to take pictures of all the words and show Danny when he was older, but this? This wasn’t the writing of a five-year-old, or a ten-year-old, and seeing some of the words used that she hadn’t even known until college- “Oh, Danny.”

Her son had only just been born and it looked like his soulmate had been in the world already for quite a while. By the time Danny was fifteen, how old would his soulmate be? Thirty? Fourty? Older? She couldn’t… Soulmates were precious, but they were all still so human. She couldn’t put her baby through that.

“Mads?” Jack rubbed at her arm, Maddie looking down to where a half-scribbled science formula was written across both their arms. Soulmates were precious, but if it was between that and her baby’s safety… “Maddie, I know what you’re thinking.”

“Just until he’s older.” If Danny grew up with that, then parents and children alike would judge him. They would torment him. “We can cover up his arms and make sure he’s covered just until he’s a little bit older. Until we can explain it to him. Not all soulmate matches are perfect.”

Jack didn’t say anything, but Maddie knew that he knew the same as her. Danny having a mate that was so much older than him would be hell. They could just… They would wrap up his arms and encourage him to stay covered until he was older. Hopefully- Hopefully he would be able to forgive him.

“Oh, my sweet baby boy.” Maddie reached for the baby blanket that had been left for them, wrapping Danny up in it until not a bit of skin besides his face showed. “Don’t you worry, Danny. We’ll keep you safe.”

And that’s what Maddie Fenton did for years. She made sure to keep Danny’s arms covered with clothes, bandages, or gloves, she always told him that it was important that no one see his skin if he could help it, and she gave him as many notebooks and sketchbooks as possible so he would always have something around him to write properly on. She even made him necklaces out of pens and pencils.

She knew it was wrong of her to hide his soulmate from him and to keep him from ever letting his soulmate know he was there, but she would rather suffer that sin than see her baby be hurt. There was a chance his soulmate was closer to his age and had merely been a child genius, but that was a very low chance and not one she was willing to risk.

It was horrible of her, but she kept her son as safe as possible and always made sure his sister knew what was at risk. She, Jack, and Jazz were the only ones to know why Danny needed to keep his skin covered, and if she had her way, they would be the only three to ever know. Soulmates weren’t the end of it all - there were people who were happy and weren’t soulmates. There were people who never had a soulmate. There were billions of people and she was positive her baby would find happiness even without a soulmate in his life. Danny didn’t need a soulmate to be happy.

That didn’t mean Danny wasn’t curious about it all, though. He knew he had to keep his skin covered for some reason and he wasn’t allowed to write or draw anything on it, but that didn’t stop him from studying other people’s skin.

He loved watching words and drawings appear on the skin of others, or watching a tic tac toe game play out across skin. It was fun to see a string of letters and numbers start out on his mom’s arm before being finished by his dad later that day when his mom was cooking dinner. He loved seeing Tucker’s doodles of computers and wires and game controllers being taken over by vines and flowers and sassy little remarks. He loved when Sam looked at him and made a shushing motion each and every time before pushing her sleeves down low enough to hide even her fingers.

The idea of writing something on his skin and having someone see it - someone who was meant for him see it - was an amazing idea. He knew his parents, though, and he knew better than to try something. It was possible that maybe he was allergic to ink, so they kept him from writing so he wouldn’t hurt himself and they kept him from watching his skin so he didn’t get disappointed. Or maybe writing on his skin hurt his soulmate and his parents had figured it out and wanted to protect them both.

People always found it a little odd he kept his skin so covered, but others did similar so he at least wasn’t the odd one out. Besides, it wasn’t like he was dying to know. He was curious and found it interesting, but not knowing wasn’t affecting his life.

“Danny? You alright?” Glancing over to Sam where she was drawing vines destroying a computer on her arm, Danny gave a weak smile.

“Yeah. Just thinking.” Alright, maybe it was affecting his life a little. “Hey, Sam?” Waiting until she hummed, Danny sighed. “Why don’t you ever tell him?”

“I like watching him struggle to figure it out. It’s fun to see his frustration,” Sam snickered, Danny trying not to laugh. “Besides, if he can’t match up handwriting, then he’s not ready to know.”

“You just like watching him suffer.” The other didn’t deny it, Danny hiding a smile. “Don’t you ever want him to know, though? I mean, you two are soulmates.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends first.” Friends first. That was a good way of looking at it. “I don’t know if I love him like that, so I’m content to just wait and see where things go.”

“You know, most people blush or avoid talking about stuff like this.” Wrinkling his nose as it was poked with the blunt side of the pen she was using, Danny stuck his tongue out. “You think you’ll ever tell him?”

“Do you think you’ll ever look at your skin?” Ah… Vicious as always. “You know, you could just ask your parents why you have to go through all of this.”

“I could, but they probably have a reason for all this and they’ll pull their ‘you’re not old enough’ excuse out.” Ah, Danny was getting too good at lying. “Besides, what soulmate would want someone who’s half ghost?”

“Shut up, you’re great and your powers are cool.” The two sat up as Lancer walked into the classroom, Sam side glaring at him. “You should ask them.”

“I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t ask, though. It wasn’t that his parents had a good reason, which they might, but… Danny was afraid of them not having a good reason.

He would be fine. Soulmates weren’t all that important after all, right?

::

“You know, there’s a reason I keep bringing you back notebooks. Have you ever considered maybe using one?”

“Mm, why waste the paper?” Andrew jotted down his latest idea across the back of his arm, the rest of it already filled with bits of dialogue that he could use within the story itself. “I’ll transfer it over soon, anyways.”

“Yes, that’s what all my complaining is about. Wasting paper.” Pausing in his writing, Andrew swallowed before continuing on and ignoring his brother as best as possible. It was rather hard considering Randy didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘silence.’ “You’re going to have to talk about it eventually, you know.”

“I could, but we both know that I’m not going to.” Finishing the last line with a flourish, Andrew capped his pen and looked up at Randy. He made sure to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “When are you going to let all of this go?”

“When are you going to listen to me?” Uncapping the pen, Andrew met Randy’s gaze evenly before darting forward with as much speed as he could. The pen didn’t even touch Randy’s skin before he was on the floor, Randy sitting on his back and no doubt smirking. “Is this your way of asking to start training sessions back up?”

“No, this would be me telling you to go burn in hell.” Throwing his energy out to wrap around the closest book he could, Andrew pressed his first two fingers together and flicked them to the side sharply and snickered when he heard Randy yelp. “Please keep in mind we are in a library and I can keep this up all day.”

“Cheater.” Randy floated off of him before dragging him back to his feet, Andrew huffing as he started to cap his pen before pausing and scribbling something else down on the back of his hand. “Maybe I should just tie a notebook around your neck. Use a nice strong chain.”

“I’d break it within two seconds.” Wiggling free, Andrew shook Randy off and adjusted his clothes. “I don’t see why you continue to want to discuss this. It’s been decades and the same conversation every single time.”

“Oh? So you’re completely over it, then.” Both looked to where Andrew’s skin was filled with his writings and quick scribbles - and only his. Shaking his sleeves down, Andrew quickly headed for one of the study rooms in his lair, knowing Randy was following him from the simple fact it was Randy. “Andy-”

“Oh, please, spare me. There’s nothing that can be done. Some people have soulmates and others don’t and I’m someone who doesn’t need a soulmate. I’ve never needed one.” Brushing off Randy’s look a bit less effectively this time, Andrew only shook his head and continued on.

He didn’t need a soulmate after what he had gone through in his life- In his death. He was used to the silence and stillness of words never being returned. Besides, he didn’t need someone pure and untainted knowing what he had done. There was a reason he went by the name Ghostwriter, now. He didn’t need anyone else to ever know who he was- He didn’t need anyone to know what he had done.

The lack of a soulmate had made him the most effective assassin there had ever been in his time and now he had moved past that and he was an effective and dedicated writer. That was all that mattered. Effective was all he had ever needed to be.

“You’ve always wanted one, though.” Of course, Randy was effective in the way that he would never let this go. Turning back to throw a glare at him as menacing as possible, Andrew near flinched at the gentle look that was aimed at him. “You care too much, frérot. Your heart is far too big.”

“Heart? Heart?” Please. “You, grand frère, made sure I didn’t have a heart.” Turning on his heel, Andrew glared as Randy stumbled in his steps, viciously pleased at the hurt in his eyes. “What I write on my skin is of no matter to anyone but myself. Do you know why? Because it’s mine. My words, my worries, my fears, my thoughts, my skin. It belongs to no one but myself and it is mine. I have no need of a soulmate.”

“That doesn’t stop you from wanting one, though.” Ready to snap back, Andrew stopped when Randy shook his head. “Andy, look at where you write, sometimes. You write on your palms, the back of your hands, as far up your neck as you can. You write wherever there’s a chance of it being seen. You wouldn’t do that if you had accepted it.”

“Like you’re any different.” Randy’s skin was perfectly clean with not a spot of ink anywhere on him. “You used to draw on yourself all the time.”

“I did. Then I grew up.” Randy said it without a scrap of bitterness- He said it so casually. He said it as if he had accepted it and was okay with it. He… “Like I said, Andy. Your heart was always too big.”

As always, the fight drained out of Andrew as he fell forward, leaning his forehead against Randy’s shoulder. “That’s fighting dirty.” Randy laughed against him, hugging him tightly. “You think I would be used to the fact that life isn’t fair for me.”

“That’s what makes it all so fun, though.” Mm, he begged to differ. “You know, I really only came by to make sure you were eating before heading off on my next job.”

“Didn’t you just get back from the last one?” Andrew gave Randy as judging a look as he could, pleased when Randy looked away first. “You’re running yourself ragged.”

“Last one and then I’ll spend a few weeks annoying the shit out of you. It should only last a few days. It’s a relic hunt.” Mhm. For Randy, a relic hunt usually meant a good chance of almost dying at least three times - maybe more. “I’ll make whatever you want for lunch?”

“Better.” Andrew pushed himself off of Randy before pushing at him even more. “Go on, then. You know what I want by now.”

“So demanding,” Randy tsked, grinning anyways as he destroyed Andrew’s hair with his fingers before flying off. “Don’t get lost in your books, nerd!”

Waiting until Randy was truly gone to let his smile drop, Andrew sighed as he looked down to where he had scribbled a few words on his palm. Randy was right, at least. He did write in places where it would be easy to notice - not that anything ever came of it.

At first he thought his soulmate merely hadn’t been born yet, but he had grown older and older and there had been no answering scribbles or drawings in reply to his own. Then he had died and all hopes had died with him - more so when he met ghosts who still got markings from their soulmates.

There was no chance of his soulmate being younger than him when Andrew had been waiting for decades- And if his soulmate was born before Andrew then they had never bothered to contact them. Or perhaps, fittingly enough, they had died before communication could be had. That would be Andrew’s luck… That would be the Priest of Death’s luck.

Whatever the case was, Andrew had no soulmate and he needed to accept it and move on before he let it tear him apart. He couldn’t keep living with the idea that a part of him would never be complete because he would never meet his other half. It was a stupid way of thinking, anyways. It was a weak way of thinking. He needed to be better than this. He needed to be stronger than this.

“Make sure you write down that idea before it rubs off!” Not bothering to suppress a smile, Andrew sighed as he went to search for a notebook. “And stop writing on your palms before your lair yells at you for getting ink everywhere!”

Besides, he didn’t need a soulmate. He had Randy looking out for him and the two of them were just fine - just like they had always been. They were fine. Things were fine.

Maybe if he told himself that enough times he would believe it.

::

“Oh, come on… How am I supposed to remember all of this?” Danny felt something close to hopeless defeat at the string of numbers and letters that was Vlad’s password into his servers and databases and just what they needed to see what the man was up to now. “Dammit, Vlad.”

Of course Vlad had to come up with a password that was more complicated than anything else he had ever seen. Maybe it would be fine if Danny could use a piece of paper and a pen to write it down, but this was Vlad. The second something went missing or was out of place he would know about it and then he would know that Danny had been there snooping. He could use his phone- Oh, wait, no, he couldn’t, because Tucker had disassembled it.

Tugging at his hair in frustration, Danny near screamed as he realized there was no way of getting that password without writing it down on something- Danny looked down at his arms and the pen that was hanging around his neck. If he… If he wrote it down on his skin now, then he could write it down on paper as soon as he got home.

“Okay. Okay, think this through, Fenton. If you write on your skin then it’s possible your soulmate will see it. That could be good?” Or… “Or you could be hurting yourself or your soulmate by writing on your skin. Right. Great. Brilliant. Just perfect.”

Time limit. Vlad would figure out the distraction was a distraction soon enough and Danny needed to be gone before that happened, so he needed to do something now- “Oh, Mom and Dad are so going to kill me for this.”

Tearing his glove off, Danny pushed the sleeve of his suit up and grabbed the pen around his neck, looking for a blank spot to write the password down and pausing at seeing how his arm was covered in writing. He knew he had a soulmate that was always writing - it was hard not to know something like that when showering and getting dressed every day, but he had never really thought about how much his soulmate wrote.

Curiosity already taking over, Danny slid off his other glove and stared at how there was just as much writing, although the writing on his left arm was a little bit neater. His soulmate must be right… Right handed. Huh. Danny knew something about his soulmate. Danny knew that his soulmate was right handed. It was such a stupid little thing to get excited about, but he knew something about his soulmate.

“At least you shouldn’t feel any pain from words appearing on your skin,” Danny mused, pen held loosely in his fingers as he looked at the strings of sentences wrapped around him. There was so much that was written down.

‘“I promised myself I would never fall for anyone. I wasn’t look to fall and then I met you and oh, god, I lost so badly.”’ ‘The air seemed to freeze and still inside his lungs, Ab unable to even move as the words rang through his mind. Two words, yet they carried with them the promise of everything.’ ‘Andrea pressed her back up against the stone bricks and held her breath, heart near shaking in her chest as she heard heavy steps follow after her. If she was found now… It would all be over.’ ‘“Oh, Mason… You’ve always wanted to find the truth behind Mavis. You’ve always wanted to help her. You heart, little brother, is far too big.”’

They were stories. Everything on his arms were snippets and excerpts from what seemed to be story after story after story and they were all- They were all absolutely amazing. Each snippet seemed like a story in of itself and Danny wanted to know more- He wanted to read more. Maybe he could write a message and ask his soulmate to write a bit more of the stories?

Maybe- No. No, no, no, he wasn’t- He wasn’t even supposed to be looking at his skin. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at any of this! Chewing at his lip and pulling his glove over his right hand, Danny looked back to his left and this was a bad idea. He could always break into Vlad’s lab and get the password another time, but if he wrote anything down then his soulmate would know he was out there. His soulmate would know that he was out there. That there was a match for him. That… Fifteen years and there hadn’t been a single spot of ink that hadn’t been put there by his soulmate, so if they saw something now and then nothing after that… Not even Danny could be that cruel.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t apologizing to his soulmate. Gripping his pen tightly, Danny quickly scribbled the password he needed across his left palm, right where there was free space and right where it would be seen as clearly and quickly as possible. He would have to figure out what to tell his parents later, but for now Danny tucked his glove back over his hand and capped his pen.

He wasn’t sure how he got out of Vlad’s mansion so quickly or how he got back to Amity Park so fast, but it seemed between one moment and the next he was sitting in Sam’s room and copying down the password in one of his notebooks.

“You actually wrote something down on your skin. You never write on your skin. Holy shit, why do you have so much written on your skin?” Tucker was near bouncing around him as he fretted and worried, Danny doing his best not to laugh.

“It was an emergency.” Tearing the paper off and handing it up to Tucker, Danny stared at the palm of his hand for a moment longer before grinning. He didn’t bother to scrub the letters and numbers away. “I don’t see why you’re freaking out. You write on your skin all the time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t!” Mm. He hadn’t, at least. “Dude, your parents and sister are gonna flip. They’re always so paranoid about your skin being covered. I mean- I thought it was just where your soulmate kept writing swear words or something.”

“Nice, Tuck. Real classy,” Sam snorted, sleeves tucked under her fingers as she grinned at Danny. “Having fun being the rebel, then?”

“Sam, come on.” Danny grinned, leaning back against the bed and knocking into Sam’s legs from where she was sitting down. “When don’t I?”

“If your sister tries to kill me over this, then I’m revoking your best friend status.” Tucker studied the piece of paper for a moment before heading over to Sam’s computer. “Sam, I’m using your computer.”

“You could ask, you know.” The two watched as Tucker stared at them both before flicking the computer on. “Ass.”

“You love me for it.” Seeing the sappy look Sam was getting, Danny cleared his throat. “Right. Your soulmate problems.”

“I wouldn’t call them problems.” At the dual looks, Danny stuck his tongue out. “Shut up. It’s just- It’s complicated, but it’s not really a problem.” Not yet, anyways.

“It might be when your soulmate finally sees you wrote something back.” Shit. He hadn’t really thought that far, yet. “There’s still time for you to erase it, you know. Cover your arms back up and ignore it all.”

“That…” Danny looked down at his arms, his coat on the ground beside him and leaving his skin bare to the world. “I don’t think I can do that, Sammy.” Beautiful lines of stories he wanted to know more than anything twirled around his skin in such a way that they looked like tattoos with how uniform and pressed together the words were. “That seems…”

“Like you’d be running away?” No- Yes, but also no. It was that, but it was more than that, too. It was so much more than that.

“That seems cruel.” His soulmate wrote so much. His entire body was filled with words and Danny knew with everything in him that it was to try and grab the attention of whoever had the words mirrored on their own skin. “That seems way too cruel.”

“And finally replying back with a random string of letters and numbers isn’t?” Pausing at that, Danny looked back to his left palm and- And shit. That- Fuck.

“I don’t think I thought this one through very well.” Because it would be one thing to say hi, or yell at the other for writing so much, or even write down a list of things to buy, but writing something so random? “How much do you think my soulmate will hate me for this?”

“Oh, Danny.” Sam leaned over and ruffled his hair fiercely, Danny whining and trying to fight her off even as he fought against the laughter that came bubbling up. “I don’t think you have to worry about your soulmate hating you.”

::

It wasn’t making sense. No matter how much Andrew counted every single object in the room or pinched himself or even poked himself with one of his knives, he wasn’t waking up. He was contemplating throwing himself off somewhere very tall when Randy walked in and ah, perfect, another way to wake himself up. “I need you to shoot me.”

To dream Randy’s credit, the man didn’t automatically turn into something strange or start lecturing him on his choice in reading material. He was acting very much like real Randy, though, in the way he took a few steps back, checked to make sure his guns were holstered, and gave Andrew a look as if he was insane.

“It’ll make sense when I wake up- Or I suppose it won’t for you, really, since you’re merely a dream manifestation of my real brother.”

“I would ask how much you’ve had to drink, but I’m not sure if I should be worried about alcohol or caffeine. You do know ghosts aren’t immune to the effects of those things, right?” Hm, his dream was quite realistic this time around, wasn’t it? “Andy, why do you want me to shoot you?”

“Because I’m dreaming and I would quite like to wake up. Used to I could do it by realizing I was in a dream by flying, but obviously I can’t do that anymore.” Shame, too. That was always the quickest way to wake himself up. “So I figure having you shoot me will trigger a traumatic enough memory that I’ll be forced awake.”

“Yeah, okay, I see your point, but say you weren’t dreaming and you asked me to shoot you.” Unlikely. “And then say I actually shot you to prove a point. I don’t think you’d be the only one dealing with something traumatic.”

“Good point, except for the fact it’s hypothetical and I’m dreaming.” Seeing that the other was about to ask why he thought he was dreaming, Andrew held his left palm up and glared. “This showed up on my hand.”

“Yes, and? Words typically show up on your hand when you write them- Did you go on a writing binge, again?”

“Yes- No, that’s not the point- Randy.” Andrew walked forward and held his palm up in front of Randy’s face. “This isn’t my handwriting. These aren’t my letters. I didn’t write this. I didn’t write this and it’s not coming off no matter how hard I scrub at it.”

“You…” The dream manifestation of Randy, because he had to be dreaming he had to, stared before grabbing his wrist and flipping his hand around to study the string of letters and numbers more closely. “A code?”

“I don’t know. I was reaching for a book, I saw something on my palm, I wanted to make sure it wasn’t an idea, and then I saw that. So, before my hopes get any higher, I would like to wake up now.”

“Andy…” No- No, see, that was a look very close to pity and Andrew didn’t want it. Andrew didn’t want a look like that. Not now. Not ever. “Andy, mon petit, you’re not asleep.”

“I have to be because I didn’t write this. This isn’t my lettering so I have to be asleep.” He didn’t have a soulmate. Andrew Claude Riter didn’t have a soulmate so why were words appearing on his skin? It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t make sense.

Instead of agreeing with him or saying something random that didn’t make sense like a dream should, Randy only held his hand between the both of his and squeezed lightly. “Andy. Andy, this isn’t a dream. You’re awake.”

“I’m…” Andrew watched as Randy freed a hand before giving a little flick. A pen appeared between his fingers before he was pressing it into Andrew’s palm and letting go completely. “I’m awake.”

“You’re awake. So… What are you going to do about it?” His soulmate- His soulmate had just written something on his skin- Their skin. He… He had a soulmate. “You could always write something back.”

“I- Why? Why now?” It had been- Andrew hadn’t been alive for long and he had been dead for so much longer, so why now would his soulmate’s words show up on his skin? “I’ve been writing for years so why would they write something now- It isn’t even a word! It’s just- Just some code!”

“That sounds like something you should ask your soulmate.” Randy hesitated for a moment before patting at Andrew’s cheek. “Does it matter if it’s late if it’s the happiness you want?”

“I…” Andrew watched as Randy gave him a smile, as if he had heard the answer he was waiting for, before walking off and away from him. “Randy?”

“I think I’ll make us some dinner. It should take a while, so maybe find something to do in the meantime until it’s done, yeah?” Randy tossed out a wave as Andrew looked back down to the pen he was still holding.

By the time he looked back up Randy was already gone, Andrew left staring at the doorway in slight frustration. “One day, I’ll get the last word in.” Uncapping the pen, Andrew looked down at his palm and okay. Okay, his soulmate was looking, now. He didn’t- This shouldn’t be something crazy or extravagant. He probably shouldn’t yell about the long silence, either. At least, not yet. Okay, then. Something simple. Easy? Something that could be said in a word or two that was short, concise, and to the point. Something his soulmate wouldn’t be scared responding to.

‘Hello.’ There. Right under the code and- Code. Was this a test? Would his soulmate not talk to him again unless he passed a test and figured out what that code meant? It seemed unlikely, but Andrew was also a ghost, so he was willing to have a little faith in strange things happening. Furthermore, was his soulmate a ghost? Maybe that’s why they never wrote back. Maybe they thought it would hurt because they were dead and their soulmate was alive- So why now? Why this silly string of characters that made no sense?

“This probably won’t work, you know. Nothing will come of it!” At least when Randy was here he could pretend he was rambling at him instead of to himself or his lair. “This is stupid, Randy!” Andrew threw himself into a nearby armchair, glaring at his palm. “You’re stupid.”

A string of letters and numbers and right underneath it were five letters written small and cramped. Andrew kind of regretted writing the word that small. What if his soulmate missed it? What if they didn’t see it? It wasn’t like it would be easy to pick out such a small word among so many.

“This is stupid.” Why should he even care, anymore? He had made peace with not having a soulmate. He had accepted it and moved- Alright, he might not have moved on, but he had accepted it. He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to clutch a pen tight enough to break and stare at his palm as if it had the answer to every question in the universe. He was- He was supposed to- To do anything but that!

Fuck, he shouldn’t have even wrote that hello on his palm. Now his soulmate knew he was watching and what did he do now? Did they try to find out who the other was? Would his soulmate even tell him why he had been kept waiting for so long?

“Randy, I changed my mind! Do you have a wet washcloth!” Predictably, there was nothing but silence and, if he listened carefully enough, the sound of something cooking in the kitchen. Andrew didn’t want to say he was bitter, but he was bitter. “Fat lot of help you are, then.”

Closing his palm, Andrew groaned and threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Do you think I’m mad for wanting this too, then?” His beautiful lair sang a response within his mind, notes played upon a violin tumbling through his head and bringing with it a tone of don’t worry you’re okay you’re safe it’s okay you can be happy you’re safe it’s okay. Andrew rather hated how much it made him relax.

“It’s stupid. It’s stupid wanting this so much.” He was just going to be disappointed in the end. That’s how it would go just as that was how it always went. He would probably have that hello on there for the rest of his unnatural life. He would always be waiting for a response that would never come.

“Why am I like this…” Looking back to his hand, Andrew uncurled his palm, looking at his… Two new letters. Two tiny letters written in black ink with a no doubt shaky hand. They were two letters written just for him- To him.

“I’m well aware of Ghostwriter’s true name, just as I’m aware that it seems you’re more tired than you’ve been letting yourself believe. Have you been getting nightmares, again?”

“Come on, Clockwork. I know you worry, but I’m seventeen. Nightmares aren’t something to worry about anymore.”

“Daniel.”

“Yeah… I mean, I’ve gotten a few. They’re never gonna come true, though, so I don’t see why I need to even worry about it.”

“What are your nightmares about, Daniel? Ghosts?”

“Yeah, right. I think those are more good dreams than bad ones, these days. No, it’s… It’s always the same dream, I think. If they’re different then they don’t change much. It… It starts with me coming home from… something. I never remember what.”

“I’ve been assured from a reliable source that that can be rather normal of dreams. Go on. What happens next in your dreams?”

“Oh, well, uh, I come home, and I change back to my human side while I’m outside before going in. Something’s wrong, though, and the alarms go off.”

“Did a ghost break in?”

“Sort of. It’s hard to tell, but I know that the alarms are reacting to me. So, uh, I try to change back so I can leave the house, but before I can, Mom and Dad are in front of me with their weapons and suits and everything.”

“They’re looking for the ghost that triggered the alarm, I take it?”

“Yeah, except in the nightmare I’m always the ghost. I’m still Fenton, but now their tech is reacting to me, which it never used to do. So, I’m trying to think of a way to explain, but then they won’t listen to me.”

“Daniel… What happens next in your dream?”

“They won’t listen to me even as I try to explain about the portal and the changing and the science and everything. They’re just screaming at me to give them back their son. I don’t know what to do, and in the dream, I always freeze up, unable to say anything else.”

“And then?”

“One of them fires a weapon at me. I don’t feel the pain, but I know it hurts. A lot. After that, I wake up.”

“Not a very happy nightmare, is it? It sounds like you could use some time to simply rest and not dream.”

“Yeah… Yeah, maybe. Hey, Clockwork?”

“Yes, Daniel?”