#fyeahghosttrick

He dropped the knife that he had held to try and cut off his own body’s hand. Not even a single drop of blood. He didn’t know why he bothered to try anymore. He had lost track of anything he did but for the day his life had been ruined… and the day he had lost her.

Those events were ingrained in his mind, just as intense as when they first unfolded, as well as the exact number of days he had suffered since. It had been them and-

A meowing interrupted his dark thoughts and he remembered. Of course. His friend still had to eat. Sissel had to eat and live… for them.

“What would I do without you, Sissel? What am I doing without you?” He looked at his friend and at nothing all at once. 

The black cat looked up at him and meowed gently.

“... Thank you, Sissel.”

He awkwardly manipulated himself to move to the door, turned the knob without feeling it and stepped out.

“Time to get some food,” ... and retain his sanity for another day… somewhat.

•••

Rats were easy to manipulate. Once he got the hang out of flying, pigeons became just as easy. 

The small animals did everything he wanted them to. He could make them move. He could make them fight. He could even make them stop breathing, but… but that was once… and it hadn't been on purpose. 

Forcing his will on other creatures so easily did something to him, but Yomiel didn’t dare thinking more about that just yet.

When he felt like losing himself, he talked to Sissel. Whenever he switched to the ghost world there was this one familiar core that would stay by his side and he was grateful for that. Then, talking wasn’t even necessary.  

Yomiel started taking over so many different cores and beings, because doing anything was better than to succumb to the hurt and suffering and pain. Sometimes he made them suffer too. Tried to let them feel what he felt, but it wasn’t ever enough. And he felt guilty for that. Each time a little less... 

They say that time would heal the pain. Whoever said that was a bloody liar and hadn’t truly felt real pain. Yomiel felt like no one did. No one felt the way he did. 

Soon Yomiel could do anything once he possessed the core of a small animal and he did try… anything. But never with cats, if he could help it.

He perfected the art of manipulating small animals and started concentrating on manipulating his own corpse better, too. He tried mimicking others in the way they walked, talked, moved. It started to look natural. Human. Was he human? Does feeling pain make you human?

•••

Why... Why were they not feeling it?

It should hurt more. Everything about this should hurt so much. Should feel like agony. They should feel the pain. The unending suffering.

A whimper escaped the person under his corpse's, his, hand.

"You... Do you feel it? Do you feel the pain?" Judging from their weakened screams, when he pushed the knife deeper into their wound, Yomiel suspected that they somehow did. Lucky them.

"P-please... I'll give you anything, please just... just let me go... I won't tell anybody, please..."

Yomiel raised the head of his body - a bit too abruptly and a bit too unnaturally, because he made his victim jump uncontrollably. Hm. Still needed to work on that...

"You don't have anything to give, except your screams and your pain..." He deepened the cut with the knife.

Feel the agonizing pain.

"When will you stop screaming, I wonder...?"

It turned out to be a very long time.

•••

When he washed the last of the blood from his hands, Yomiel just let the water drip. The sound was better to bear than the nothingness he felt whenever his body seemed to touch anything.

This existence... even the pain of others was not enough. They didn’t feel the same way he did. They didn’t suffer enough. 

Sissel... What am I supposed to do?

Yomiel wished he could cry. He wished something would change. Why was he still in this world? It didn’t make sense. He looked for a purpose. For something. It didn’t matter what, just… anything to diffuse the impossible pain and loneliness inside. The hole where once his heart was. The darkness. 

He was sinking.

A nearby phone rang repeatedly and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated that sound. When was the last time someone called him? When was the last time he needed to pick up the phone? No one ever called the dead.

Why didn't they pick up?

Yomiel paid a visit to that unfortunate neighbor that night.

•••

Yomiel had to check twice, when he switched to the ghost world again. But there was no doubt about it… there were… new cores. Objects... and people.

He didn’t feel any remorse when he seized a core. That was something he left behind a long time ago.

It took some time getting used to. People were a tad harder to control than small animals. 

Forcing his will on actual living, thinking humans did something more to him than it did with the animals. Yomiel embraced it eagerly. 

•••

The body dropped limply when Yomiel allowed his manipulated victim to let go of the throat. It was… new… exciting. 

And the best wasn’t the killing. The best was the expression of the ones acting out his every  bidding. They felt it. The remorse. The guilt. The suffering.

His newfound powers gave him a release he hadn’t imagined he would ever get. And he craved for more.

•••

“N-no, I’m sorry, love, I am not…! I don’t know what is happening! Please, oh god!” 

Yomiel made his new puppet corner their loved one. He found out that a saw was an excellent choice of weapon.

He saw the fear in the victim and the desperation in the other. 

Yes… endure the pain like I do…

The screams of both echoed through the night and it was music to Yomiel’s ears.

•••

He found lots of different ways to let the people suffer - both, the manipulated ones and their victims. He found out that there was no limit to what he could do to them. If anything, he was a perfectionist and he perfected the manipulation of people, too. And the killing of them. It became as easy as breathing was for them.

But… the thrill faded. Soon the screams sounded the same and they did suffer, but while his suffering got worse, theirs stayed the same. It was unfair. And his thoughts circled back to why. 

Every laughter, every happy face made his mood worse. Poor Sissel had to endure all of it, but still, Sissel stayed faithfully by his side. The manipulation of objects didn't even begin to challenge him.

Maybe… maybe they could start anew. But Yomiel just couldn’t let go of the events from years ago. 

It had been them and- ...and in that moment he knew what to do.

It was time that they started to get a taste of what he felt. Random strangers just didn’t cut it anymore (he had made them cut each other up too many times already). Yomiel had access to this immeasurable power. Might as well make use of it. To finally show them what they sowed.

•••

Finding the first cop was easy. Yomiel found not needing to sleep useful for once. He used the detested telephone lines, too. Anything to reach his newfound purpose. That was why he still  existed this long, after all. 

Yomiel wanted him to lose his precious someone, too. And he wanted to do it in the most painful way possible. He took his time to flesh out a perfect plan.

When the small girl started building her little contraption, it got even better than what he had imagined and gods, had he imagined lots of ways. It would be a few days more to wait, but oh was the wait worth it.

•••

The faithful day came and another body tumbled to the ground. A meaningful body.

How does it feel, Jowd?

Yomiel’s thoughts raced when he fulfilled the deed. His heart would be competing with them if it was still beating. 

This… this was it. 

With this he was sure to get what would be his only salvation. Revenge. 

One small gear set into motion. One small step at a time. One death after the other.

He was on the edge of becoming a full on dancin’ fool, just like generations of Baileys before him. Yet, as he stood poised, his eye was caught by a small black kitten in the window of the storefront in front of which he stood. The little guy was frolicking with the ribbons and tinsel some enterprising clerk had left in the window to decorate a small tree. It batted the glitter into the air, then watched it fall with huge golden eyes. The tinsel glinted with the same rich, dreamlike light in sharp contrast to the white dazzle of the snow falling all around. Bailey’s movements slowed to a stop and he watched, distracted and enthralled, as the kitten caught tinsel with one curved, pink-beaned paw and shoved it at the tree. It wouldn’t stay where it was placed.. The kitten tried again. Tinsel fell, ornaments tumbled and rolled, but none went on to the tree. Bailey caught the kitten’s eye… did it look oddly sheepish? It was a strange look on a cat.

Bailey tapped a gentle finger on the glass. The cat put up a paw. There was a moment of communion between them before the moment was lost, the cat looked away, and Bailey’s coworker showed up at last. Bailey looked into his eyes and realized several very, very important things, here in this fraught and fragile moment. 

First, that man was terribly handsome here in the snow. He had pulled his own cap off and as he blinked up at the sky, his eyes squinting into the gloom of the evening, the glare of the streetlights, and the falling snow–it all made Bailey feel something soft and lovely inside, something he’d been pretending not to feel at work. Something warm, something all those generations of Baileys must have had a dance for and yet, it felt completely new.

Second, he was holding a small wriggling Pomeranian. The dog looked strangely familiar, but Bailey couldn’t focus on that. There was a third, important–the most important–thing he’d just realized. 

Bailey, who had worked with this man for ten years, who had talked with him about anything and everything in their long shifts, who had been teased and joked with by this most maddening coworker until it drove him wild with both confusion and frustration, and, finally, who had been asked out after much will-he, won’t-he… Bailey’s mind had gone absolutely and positively blank. White and pure as the snow. And in that white wilderness, one thing was plain; his coworker’s name was not there. He couldn’t remember it.

At all.

Ohhhh, this was bad. Horrifically bad! There was no way he was ever going to live this one down. His fingers started to twitch. He tried desperately to stop the shuffle. And still, his brain was tuned to only one, pervasive, intrusively loud thought.

Aaaaargh!

His coworker seemed not to notice Bailey’s incipient panic, preoccupied as he was with the Pomeranian.

“Hey, Bailey,” he said. “This is Lynne’s dog, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” Bailey responded intelligently. “Lynne?” He took a closer look at the Pomeranian, shoving his cap up so he could see better. The Pomeranian’s tail waved wildly and his tiny black nose twitched. “I guess maybe it is… why would I know? You’re the one–”

His coworker’s face twitched, an eyebrow raising. “I’m the one what ?”

Bailey drew himself up to his most prim, the tallest stance he could manage, stilling his feet as best as he could. “The one who has the dog,” he said with desperate, faked dignity. “You must have met Lynne somewhere on the way here.”

“Ooh, those the detectin’ skills that keep you working as a guard?” his coworker snarked.

Bailey reeled back against the window, groaning, “Aaaaargh!” It felt good to say it out loud, at least, and get back to their customary banter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the kitten stop playing and sit up, interested. “Stop bringing up the detective’s exam! I studied so hard…”

 “Yeah, yeah. You really did.” The other guard winked at him. “But hey, ya failed, so we’re goin’ out for drinks and then you can show me “Dance Away the Pain.” That oughta be enough consolation.”

“I…well…” Bailey glared as his cheeks reddened. “I mean. If this is an actual…” He stopped, embarrassed. “No, it’s not a consolation prize at all!” 

His coworker waved his protests off. “Anyway, I did run into Lynne though. But she didn’t have the dog then, so…”

Bailey drew himself up again. “So you went out with her first!” 

The other guard gave him a blank stare. “...no.” He shook his head; perhaps it was fond. “But, see, she asked me to find her dog and then it was just a crazy string of coincidences…”

“Which you just went along with, I’m sure,” Bailey said, nodding. After a beat, he added, “...that was sarcasm. In case you couldn’t tell.”

His coworker ignored him. “I don’t think I would have found the little guy if I hadn’t dropped my hat in the park, and then I couldn’t find it, so I went lookin’ for it and a sweet potato dropped out of the sky. In front of where that big weird statue used to be, ya know the one.”

Bailey gave him a blank stare. “...no.”

“The weird-ass one in the park, Bailey. With the creepy eyes? Where they arrested our special prisoner?”

“Oh. Where that street rocker guy hangs out.”

“And the pigeons, that’s the one. So I saw a blue pigeon flying away with my hat.”

Bailey twitched. “ What are you even talking about?”

“Of course I chased it; it’s cold out,” his coworker said reasonably. “And the pigeon led me to a burnt out campfire, and dropped my hat, and there the little guy was. He was real happy to see me too! You should have seen him dance. Speakin’ of which…”

“This whole story…” Bailey said slowly, “is ridiculous. You didn’t want to see my dance after all, did you?!” His feet involuntarily moved him to one side, then the other as his arms began to gyrate. “You just wanted to laugh! At my pain! I can’t believe! You asked me out! Under false pretenses! ”

“What?” Bailey’s coworker gave him a genuinely flummoxed stare. “Nah, it’s all true. Come on, Bailey. I’m beggin’ ya, not this again…”

“Oh, I’m gonna dance! Until the world ends!” Bailey panted. “This panic! And pain! Are intertwined now!”

His coworker sighed. “ Why are you panicking, though. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Because! You’re dating! Lynne! And you lied! And for some reason! I! Can’t! Remember! Your! Name!”

Bailey’s coworker gave him a stare. “Ya can’t remember my– Are you kiddin’ me right–” his attention was caught by something behind Bailey. “What is that?”

“You can’t! Trick! Me that easily!” Bailey huffed. 

“No, but–’”

“Ho ho ho!” came a booming, jolly voice from behind him. “And have you been good guards this year?”

“Isn’t the outcome the same as if they’d been naughty?” a light, amused voice said.

“Come ooon, baby, it’s about the look of the thing,” a third, more sardonic voice drawled. “Theatrics, nothin’ like ‘em.”

Bailey swiveled, still dancing, to find Detective Jowd sitting in a large, cloth sided red wagon, surrounded by beautifully, fashionably wrapped boxes. The wagon was being pulled by a tandem bicycle crewed by Inspector Cabanela and a long-legged woman Bailey vaguely remembered from precinct parties as being possibly Jowd’s wife. Was it Alice? Alma? Something like that… his dance intensified in his embarrassment at being caught forgetful yet again.

“Ho, ho, ho!” boomed Jowd again, the sound sounding more like laughter and less like acting this time. “Good guards get presents from the man in red and white!”

“Wait, but aren’t you the one supposed to be giving presents here?” The woman winked at Bailey. “Oh well. Cabanela, you heard the man.”

“So I did, baby!” beamed Cabanela. “Sooo I did.” With a grand flourish, he gestured at the wagon. “A present for two good boooys!”

“What the–?!” Bailey heard his coworker say as a crate next to the door seemed to instantaneously switch with one of the beautifully wrapped presents, then slide its way to Bailey’s feet. Bailey tried to step back in time, but tripped, landing in the fluffy white snow. His dance stopped involuntarily as the cold shocked him out of his panic. 

The other guard stooped to pick up the box. “It says to Bailey and …” Bailey heard, but the sound was muffled by his snow-blocked ears.

His coworker reached down a gloved hand to lift him up. “Ya good, Bailey?” When Bailey stood, the other man shoved the box at him. “Here, let’s open it.”

Bailey carefully unwrapped the ribbon while, to his surprise, the other guard equally as carefully took the paper off the box. They opened the lid, only to be inundated by a great wash of glitter and rose petals propelled by a small device. 

“Happy birthday, baby!” cried Cabanela. “For spending with friends and loooved ones! Just so ya know, Jowd’s daughter built the glitter machine.” 

The woman Bailey was reasonably sure was named Alma snorted, laughing along with Jowd, who truly was belly laughing now. “Did they need to know that? Also, It’s not both their birthdays, surely!”

Bailey and his coworker peeked cautiously into the box to find a gift card for the Chicken Kitchen, along with more glitter and flower petals.

“We thought you boooys needed a little help pickin’ a place to eat,” Cabanela said. “Not my choice, by the way.”

“Sorry,” said Jowd, sounding completely unrepentant. “And, by the way, the special prison’s being repurposed now that Yomiel is free,” he added. “Sorry about that too, but you boys are out of a job.”

Bailey felt his former coworker’s hand spasm, then reach for his. Wait… was he panicking now? Without needing to dance? Bailey resolved to ask him for his secrets. Right after he remembered his name. For now, Bailey squeezed back.

Cabanela took the Pomeranian from the other man’s unresisting and now free hand. “We’ll get this valiant little warrior back to our baby,” he said, and handed him down to Jowd, still in the wagon. “She’s probably just finishin’ dinner herself.”

“Oh, with Memry?” Alma said, smiling. “Guess we’ve got this matchmaking thing down to a science.” She gave Bailey a funny little salute. “Good luck! And thank you for being kind to my husband.”

“Huh?” Bailey said, flustered. “I’ve only met him once or twice…”

“Don’t worry so much about it, maaan,” Cabanela drawled. “Onward!” He and Alma began to pedal, somehow, magically, in perfect synchronization.. The bike, the wagon, the three humans, and the dog shot away as if propelled by a missile and disappeared into the thickly falling snow.

“What was that…” Bailey’s former coworker said blankly as he pulled away. “Hey Bailey. Are we… unemployed?” His hands flexed a little and he looked around aimlessly. “I had just finished my card tower…”

Bailey dug in the box and pulled out a note, which blew out of his hand in the wind. Expertly, the other man caught it. 

“What’s this? Lemme see that.” He read it and looked up. “We’re invited to apply for a job with the new special investigations unit,” he said, his voice stunned. “With personal referrals from Captai– Captain Jowd? He got promoted? And Inspector Cabanela..guess he got promoted too.” He shot Bailey a slightly shyer grin. “Sorry for grabbin’ ya. I got, er… nervous.”

Bailey peered at the card, oblivious. “I don’t even know what to think any more,” he said blankly. “I didn’t know I had to be worried about this too. My poor stomach…”

“Oh?” his friend slid him a narrow eyed gaze. “Nerves? Or hunger?”

“Ergh… maybe both…” 

“Hmph.” The other man drew himself up in what Bailey realized after a moment was a parody of his usual posture. “Well then, maybe it’s time to panic after all.”

“Panic?” Bailey blinked. “Why would it be–”

The former guard carefully placed a foot backward, then another. His hands rose and he made an awkward squiggle in the air, then he stepped forward, waving a hand up and down. 

“It goes like this, right?”

“Err..” Bailey watched him, mouth agape. It wasn’t right, at all, but generations of Baileys were standing and cheering in his brain. He was trying. What more could one ask?

“It’s not panic time,” he said, nevertheless. “It’s a different dance when your stomach hurts.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Dance Away the Pain.”

“Well, show me then.” Bailey’s ex-coworker shot him a slightly nervous smile. 

Bailey realized two more important things in that moment. First: heck. This guy was still handsome even covered in snow and dancing very badly. Second: In all that wilderness of white static in Bailey’s brain, the all-important name was back. It wasn’t even as if it was an uncommon one. The panic had just stolen it.

Bailey’s feet slid into place. His hands rose to the proper position. With one hand, he gestured. “This one’s done with two people. Wanna learn?”

“...yeah.” Bailey’s ex-coworker, current friend, possible partner, put a hand in Bailey’s and pulled him in a little closer. “But only if you remember my name.”

“Easy,” said Bailey, and said it. They both grinned fatuous grins and danced away into the falling snow as behind them, a Christmas tree in a window stood, perfectly decorated and leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Beside it, a small black kitten lay very still, probably exhausted by its efforts.

-

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Well, what else would there be?”

“Why were Jowd and everyone there?”

“Because it’s more fun that way!”

“Have you ever even met those guards?”

“Sure! Miss Lynne knows them, even in this timeline! They’re nice!”

“…Huh. So they just dance off and we never even learn Bailey’s friend’s name.”

“Well, I don’t know it, so…that’s just how my dream went, Sissel.”

“Well… at least it was fun. Hope they work it out in real life…”

“I bet they will! They’ve got us rooting for them!”

“Uh, sure. And like Cabanela always says, ‘ When in doubt, just keep movin’…”

“ So as long as they keep dancing, they’ll be fine?”

“In your dreams anyway. …and, sure. Maybe in real life too.”

“I’m gonna show them the dance Mr. Cabanela taught me, in that case! That should be perfect!”

“It’s a looovely night and here you are lookin’ for all the world like you’ve got that equally lovely moon on your shoulders. What’s eatin’ you, baby?”

Jowd bit back a sigh and glanced at Cabanela. Said moon and the candles illuminating the patio table behind them were all they had for light, and there stood Cabanela in the grass beside him, somehow gleaming under it all despite the absence of his white coat, currently hanging on its customary hook inside. Sometimes it really did feel as though he shone with an inner light, which was most likely nonsense (who could really be sure with the man), but regardless for a passing moment Jowd simply wanted to hold onto that spark. Maybe it would be enough to drown out the gloom that had settled on him through the day, despite, or perhaps because of, the evening plans that waited.

“You’re a detective,” he said instead. “Do you really need to ask?”

“Nope,” Cabanela replied cheerily. “But I’d like to hear it from you.”

For once. The words hung unspoken in the air like a sharp retort. Like a gun pointed his way under a different moon on a different night, Jowd thought.

“At this time I was in a cell,” Jowd said slowly. “All of this was impossible.” Sometimes he wondered if it still should have been. Could he really say he deserved this? Then he had to remind himself of both Alma’s and Cabanela’s words, overly patient, telling him that, yes as a matter of fact he did, and they wouldn’t hear otherwise. Who was he to argue with them?

“Was, baby.” Cabanela said. “And some might say a group of ghosts, containing our fine furry feline friend, and the best Pomeranian there is no less, turnin’ back time and saving the day is an impossibility too, and yet here we aaare.”

Here they were. Jowd faintly smiled at the descriptors. Cabanela had yet to meet Missile in this timeline. Missile wouldn’t be born for another couple years yet. Alma’s birthday had come and gone without incident and a new set of five years stretched out before them, unknown and unpredictable, but one thing wouldn’t change. Jowd knew when the time came, if needed, he would do everything to ensure Missile would make his way home once more. And no doubt the pup and Cabanela would hit it off immediately then too.

Sometime in the space of his thoughts, Cabanela had ditched all pretense of distance and slid in against Jowd, took his arm, and wrapped it around himself like an overlarge scarf. Heavier, and likely clumsier too than that of the finer affair he normally wore. Always one for odd tastes.

“Here we are,” Cabanela repeated. “So, hooow about you stop makin’ like a chicken, quit the brooding act, and be here too?”

“That may be a tall order,” Alma’s voice sounded from behind. She left glasses and wine on the table and approached to join them in the grass where she took Jowd’s other arm. Two of a kind; they both had strange tastes. She kissed his cheek before giving them both a thoughtful stare.

“He is so very good at it after all. We may just have to get the ketchup to complete this image.”

“It’s a shame to let talent go to waste,” Jowd said blandly. “Or ketchup.”

“You don’t need the practice,” Cabanela retorted. “Keep it on that side, would you, baby?”

“I don’t know,” Jowd started, “maybe I—mmph.”

Jowd broke off as Cabanela leaned in to kiss him. That still took some getting used to in this new life of theirs as well. When they first started navigating this new relationship Cabanela had been, well, not shy—Jowd wasn’t certain if Cabanela knew the meaning of the word—but reserved perhaps, and normally that too was a word that fit on him as well as an oversized smock full of stains, but nevertheless there he had been. While it hadn’t lasted naturally, it had been a novelty. That said, this was better, Jowd had to admit.

“What was that?” Alma asked brightly.

“I appear to be outmatched,” Jowd replied.

“Of course. Now, how about that wine and some actual relaxation? Unless you’d prefer the ketchup?”

“Always,” Jowd said with a smirk before sobering. “But, wait.”

Cabanela’s fingers had found their way into his beard and he spoke softly. “We’re not goin’ anywhere, baby. You can be sure of that.”

Jowd pulled them both into a tighter hug. They were here in all their warmth and presence. That cell was nothing more than a memory of a time and place that no longer existed, that never existed here. No more blackened eyes, no more unfillable holes. No more distance and layers of lies.

“We’re always here,” Alma said as if reading his thoughts. Not that she needed to be able to read his thoughts to guess at them.

To her, to both of them, he was an open book it seemed. Had he always been? On some level had he known as much? How many barriers had he placed between himself and Cabanela after all? He shook his head, giving them both a squeeze. They were right as always.

“Well,” Jowd finally said, “how about that wine?”

They couldn’t stay like this all night after all. Well, maybe they could, but Cabanela was another matter, although he did seem content toying with his beard for the present time. At Jowd’s words, however, he spun away, hand lingering over Jowd’s and brushing over Alma.

“You got it, baby!”

Once Cabanela went to fetch the wine, Alma tugged at Jowd’s arm. He got the message and together they sat in the grass. Her fingers walked across his shoulder and gave him a squeeze before she leaned her head on him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Jowd found himself saying without hesitation.

Then Cabanela returned and in a swirl of activity their glasses were filled and distributed between them all without spilling a drop while the wine bottle was set delicately aside in the grass. Cabanela settled opposite Alma, once more reclaiming Jowd’s shoulder.

The moon shone down and the stars sparkled across the sky. The candles behind them added their own flickering warmth. There was a slight breeze, but between the pair Jowd only felt warm. He realized he missed something Cabanela said, but Alma’s laugh in return was sweet and the sound alone was enough.