This story involves Skulduggery's feelings towards Valkyrie. If you have a problem with Age Gap and Skeletal lust, back away.

I do not own any of the Characters within this story.

All rights are Reserved for Derek Landy .

1

Skulduggery Pleasant walked into his house, the floorboards creaking slightly as he entered the hallway. He placed his hat upon the hat stand and removed his tie. Walking into the main living room he looked at the absolute silence of it all. Something was missing. Of course it was. It had been for 4 years, yet he hadn't felt like this in awhile. Sentimentality was getting the better of him. He hated that.

She had rubbed off on him.

Of course she had left. Things like that, one tended to run from it. Valkyrie was brave though, taking this on alone, but Skulduggery had done the same. Both detectives had ran away from a war, leaving a bit of their soul on the battelfield. But where Valkyrie had led a normal life before and after, Skulduggery had nothing left to return to.

He sighed heavily, more out of habit than anything else and went into the kitchen. Stepping past the dining table to the countertop he turned on the kettle. Then realisied he no longer had a reason to make tea. He would have just kept making it if Ghastly were still alive, Or Anton but he would have been suspicious as to the reason, he probably would have asked for the teapot to be brought to the hotel. He could've called Saracen or Dexter but they would be all to interested in seeing Skulduggery emotionally unstable, it would have tarnished his reputation. He stopped caring about the tea and walked into the living room. In it was a TV, he would have turned it on but he knew that most of it was just soft-minded entertainment and Athiests houting at each other. He would have read a book, if he hadn't read everything in his personal library.

He looked at the new couch that he got only for his partner, ex-partner. Realising that he could probably sell it and get it around about the original price. Though he was reminded of his sentimentality again, it became worse as he sat in her spot. He couldn't sell it without losing piece of his memories of her.

He was hoping there was something still there, anything worth salvaging. It was cold and it was squishy, like most couches, nothing new. There wasn't anything special about this one except the risidual stains from Valkyrie "crashing" on the couch there. Her words, not his. He looked at the stain for a while, trying to remember how they had gotten there. It had something to do with her getting knocked around by a few sorcerers during a raid. She had taken a soaking in Skulduggery's bath. He had spent an hour trying to not think about it, he finished 5 novels by Jane Austen before she had gotten out. When she came out, she was wearing a loose cotton jersey which showed far too much of her legs. To his knowledge, she had no pants on. They were in the wash with her combat clothes. He had read the entire encyclopedia of the natural sciences before he could stop thinking about it. It had been a few months before the war. Such innocent times. He knew it was weird, thinking about an 18 year old girl like that, but he knew wierder sorcerers. Some were 900 and dated 20 year olds. It was the same concept.

But, as he sat there, his tie off and sitting in a casual stance, he realised how off the rails he was becoming. He needed a partner again. Just last week he had been left without arms. When he spoke to Clarabelle about it she made reference to a Mr Holmes. Skulduggery then informed her that he was fictional. She screamed at him and threw water into his face. Turned out it was acid, and he required a new suit.

4 years...

This had become far too troublesome for Skulduggery. Maybe he would have to get an assistant. An extremely attractive and intelligent one though, like that one fellow on television, the one with the fez and magician style clothing. If one has to wear anything it should be a suit, no fez. But if Skulduggery were to get a new battle accessory it would take too long to train him or her back up to Valkyrie's level. He hated that fact to.

Nobody looked as good as well as being able to kick as many people in the face as Detective Cain. Tanith was pretty close, but she seemed to be on some sort of spirit quest at that moment, looking for some new purpose after learning about everything that had happened during her possession. She became way existential. It was extremely unhealthy for an 80-something year old. He didn't want any of the old 'Dead Men' as his partner either, they would mess with his intuition. He knew he was just beating around the bush though, he needed Valkyrie back and he didn't know when she would return. The Skeleton Detective wasn't as good with emotions as he was with cases, if he was, more people would enjoy his company. Perhaps his blunt opinions of others had something to do with that.

Valkyrie had never cared though. In fact, it took all Skulduggery had to keep it together around her.

He realised that it had been an hour since he had sat down, thinking about Valkyrie. This was unhealthy and he knew it. There was only one way to fix this. He picked up his gun, put it in his holster, re-tied his tie, re-angled his hat and speed-walked to his car. He picked up his scarf and glasses on the way out and got in. He gunned the engine and listend to the Bentley purr like the lioness it was.

"At least you won't break down on me." Skulduggery said to himself as he patted the dashboard fondly. The engine sputtered and Skulduggery's hand tensed before realising it was just from the constant use. He probably needed to have some maintenance. It was getting old, the same as he was. The thing about the Detective was that he couldn't get replacement parts. Well he could, but he didn't like it. It wasn't as diginfied as it sounds. He drove down to Roarhaven, the now fully re-established centre of Magic in Ireland. Where the grey skies and drabness of the old town was now replaced by a bumbling metropolis hidden from the eyes of the mortals. Life was getting easier for socerers in Ireland, people were flocking from far and wide to come to the hidden gem which was the City of Roarhaven.

This provided Skulduggery with more work however, as people were more prone to Magical crimes in magical cities than mortal ones. Skulduggery had spent the last 4 years working almost non-stop. It was a good thing Skulduggery didn't need nourishment, or sleep, or a peaceful afterlife.

Due to this however Grand Mage Sorrows introduced a new recruitment agency for the Sanctuary so it would have more investigators. The rookies were set up in different sectors of the City, but Skulduggery was assigned to the entirety of the City as well as Ireland itself. The training facility was in the Sanctuary building itself where the investigators were trained by old Reaper instructors. Here one could learn every form of self defense, learn how to use every fire arm and every dirty trick in every book. The firing range had become Skulduggery's favourite place as of late. It was where he could make the other agent's feel inadequate. He found this monotonous, though highly entertaining. Mostly because they would always ask to be tutored by him and complimented his skills.

He didn't need complimenting.

He was a prodigy.

His other favourite part of the Sanctuary was the training room, where everyone went up against one of the Cleavers and got their asses kicked severely. Skulduggery only got his ass kicked a little. Though he had no ass to have beat, he did possess a pelvis. He was headed there now, to test out if his pelvis served the same purpose for the third time in that week. As well as to get his mind off his combat accessory, tight trousers and all.

He strode into the room just as someone was flipped into a wall. Those in the line next to the mat winced as bone could be heard snapping and wall cracking. He simply walked onto the mat and removed his finely tailored shoes and handed his hat to the woman who was next in line. They all looked at him with wide, wet eyes as he went to the centre of the mat. The Cleaver Tutor walked to the centre of the mat and stood face to face with the Skeleton Detective.

"I met a fellow similair to you once. He had a very dark shade of armour. I remember mentioning to him something about the lack of options. I see that you'd have more options though. Would you ever consider representing a spectrum of colours instead of Grey?"

The Cleaver, plenty taller than the already tall Skulduggery simply took a step back and settled into a combat stance.

"I see. Not much of a talker are you? I read somewhere that talking helps your mental state. As you can see I am so incredibly sane, I talk a great deal."

The cleaver tilted it's head slightly at this last comment. Everyone else just raised an eyebrow. Skulduggery shrugged and laughed a little.

"You can decide for yourself how truthful that statement is. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about.

Come, regail with your tails of galantry young Knight!"

Skulduggery pronounced with gusto and raised his arm triumphantly to the sky.

"Fine then... perhaps the next one will be more forthcoming." Skulduggery brought his arms to his sides and stood for a moment. A moment ticked by and everyone, including the Cleaver stood in silence as they awaited the fury of the infamous Dead Man. Skulduggery turned on his heel to leave, but as he turned he struck out with a jab to the Cleavers visor.

Before landing the strike the Cleaver blocked it and headed in with a jab to the chest which Skulduggery in turn countered. Upon getting both hands free he sent down an elbow into the top of the Cleavers helmet. Skulduggery's opponent staggered as Skulduggery set a knee beneath the Cleaver and held his head in vice grip as he slammed the helmet into his knee as he brought the knee up. The Cleaver rose up off of the ground and fell back slightly. The detective remembered teaching Valkyrie that move. Dammit. As the Cleaver rose he struck out again into the Cleavers stomach with his heel. The Cleaver was forced to his knee and grabbed his leg and twisted. Skulduggery lost his footing and landed on to the mat with a thud. He twisted his legs, upon being freed he struck out at the Cleavers knee and turned onto his back. Skulduggery put his hands beneath his head and pushed , sending his feet up into the Cleavers head and sent him onto his back. The Cleaver responded by kicking into the crotch of the Dead Man and hooking his foot as he went to send him into the wall. Before going out of range Skulduggery grabbed the shoulder of the Cleaver and hit the ground in a crouch. Skulduggery took a hold of the armour of his opponent and flipped him over his knee so he landed face first into the plastic.

Skulduggery started pounding his elbow into the Cleaver's helmet over and over and over again. He could hear something cracking beneath the force of the blow but he kept going and going.

He was angry.

He was alone.

His friends were gone.

The Grand Mage was hammering him with work.

And now there was nobody left to appreciate how much it took.

To do this day by day and not gain anything.

Nobody to laugh with.

Nobody to appreciate his genuis.

His style.

His humour.

His lo...

He looked around, everyone was staring at him. Skulduggery could hear the raspy breathing of the Cleaver beneath the visor. The girl who was holding his hat had subsequently dropped it onto the floor in shock. Skulduggery could hear the blood drip to the floor. Skulduggery rose shakily from the floor. He looked at the people who had seen this. He walked calmly to his hat. Picked it up, put it on the perfect angle with nobody left to care. He put on his shoes and stood for a moment in the doorway. He looked out a bit and saw that a group had accumulated in the hallway. He tipped his hat slightly and just said.

"I'm just so... ." he paused for a moment and looked back into the room at the Cleaver.

"Incredibly sane" and walked out of the Sanctuary.

Nobody tried to stop him.