Flickering Lights

The office was deliberately warm and homely. A dark wooden desk matched the bookcases covering the far wall. The other walls were far from bare, a single diploma the only image that wasn't a flower. It was supposed to be comforting, but the pictures of white orchids looked like they had come with the frames.

Deep purple curtains were pulled to the sides, letting in the last of the day's light and colouring the scene in an orange tint.

Detective Valerie Gray spread out on the single sofa, pushing aside the many pillows. She casually faced the door, keeping only one eye on her companion. Years on the police force had left her with her fair share of paranoia.

Of course, most people who passed through the office shared that particular affliction. The sofa's positioning was as deliberate as the rest of the interior.

In an armchair facing the sofa sat Dr. Jasmine Fenton, Valerie's psychiatrist.

Dr. Fenton was, at least physically, the complete opposite of Valerie. Her smart blouse and teal cardigan stood in sharp contrast with Valerie's casual tank top and jeans. Her long red hair draped across her back, while Valerie sported a military-like short cut. Dr. Fenton was a skinny woman, with long arms and legs. Valerie was squat, her orange hoodie hiding muscles.

Yet, the two of them weren't nearly as different as they first appeared; They both had chosen their careers to help people.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you back on active duty."

Valerie only wished Dr. Fenton would let her do her job.

"I'm fine. What's done is done. Sitting around moping about it won't help me." Valerie crossed her arms.

"You can't just avoid your problems." Dr. Fenton's voice was soft, like she was afraid her words would break Valerie further. "After what happened with your partner-"

"Ex-partner," corrected Valerie, her tone sharper than she had intended. She didn't want to be associated with him anymore.

"Exactly." Dr. Fenton absent-mindedly tapped her pen against the paper. Her professional demeanour failed to hide her pity. "You're emotionally unstable, and you don't have the same support-system anymore."

Valerie couldn't deny that. Other than him, she hadn't made any friends since she moved to the city. Even if she had kept up contact with her childhood friends, she couldn't imagine talking about something so serious with Paulina or Star and, silly as it sounded, she was too old to seek comfort with her dad.

No, Valerie was alone.

There was a soft ping, coming from the laptop on the abandoned desk. Dr. Fenton's head snapped up at the sound, her eyes landing on the simple clock hanging on the wall. "I'm sorry, that's it for today."

"Same time, same place for next week. I know the drill." Valerie sighed, but she was glad for the opportunity to escape Dr. Fenton's piercing eyes.

"Please make sure to actually come in next week."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Can't go back to work until you say so, anyhow," Valerie waved off the concern, like it was ridiculous to accuse her of skipping therapy.

Dr. Fenton was clearly not fooled, but she only nodded as she walked Valerie to the door and greeted her next patient. Judging by the time, probably her last patient for the day.

Night had fallen when Valerie finally went outside, the cold air soothing against her clammy skin.

Her motorcycle stood where she had left it, a sleek black beauty with shining chrome details. It was sporty and Japanese, rather than one of the American bikes she had admired in her youth. Still, it handled like a dream. She shrugged on a red leather jacket and matching helmet before taking off.

Rather than drive home, Valerie headed towards her gym. After talking (or rather, avoiding talking) with Dr. Fenton, she needed to vent her frustrations on a punching bag. The gym would still be open, despite the late hour. The owner, Kwan, didn't seem to ever go home.

Valerie turned a corner when a flash of blue light caught her eye. A couple of police cars stood near an alley.

Before she could even consider stopping herself, she pulled over.

Yellow and black tape bearing the words "police line, do not cross" hung limply between the buildings. Behind it, people from the morgue were zipping up a body-bag.

Valerie stretched out an arm to push up the tape, bending slightly to pass under it, when someone called out to her.

"Oi, you can't just enter! This is a crime scene, not a tourist attraction!" An annoyed police quickly approached her. Valerie recognized the old officer, if only vaguely.

Valerie quickly flashed her badge. "I'm Detective Gray."

The officer's eyes narrowed. In that moment, the old man reminded her of her dad, and how he had looked whenever he caught her sneaking out at night in her youth. "Aren't you on a leave of absence?"

"Yes, well..."

The officer's eyes were hard, but not cold. He understood, on some level, even though he didn't approve. Still, there was no way he was going to budge and let her into the crime scene. A fresh wave of frustration went through Valerie, but she walked away without making any fuzz. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands, and she forced herself to unclench her fingers.

She was tired, had been for weeks. Sleep did nothing to help against the weariness than ran through her bones.

Sometimes, she didn't think she'd ever feel normal again.

On a rickety fire escape, the type that was a just metal staircase hanging off the outside of a building, sat a teenager. He was craning his neck to get a better view of the crime scene.

"It's rude to stare. Somebody died." Valerie kept her voice low enough that she wouldn't draw attention from the cops.

The kid turned towards her, wide eyes looking around as if he expected her to be addressing someone else.

Valerie stared at him, her hands on her hips.

"Yes, well... I know, but-"He seemed startled, but she didn't have the patience for excuses.

"Then quit gawking."

"Yes ma'am!"

She nodded curtly and turned away.

The kid scrambled to his feet. "Wait!"

Valerie gave him as unimpressed look as she could muster, but she stopped walking.

Taking that as an invitation, the teenage boy sitting on the second floor fire escape casually vaulted over the side, head first.

Valerie nearly cried out, before the kid impossibly righted himself in the air and landed unharmed on his feet.

There was no sound as he landed.

Valerie's heart beat loudly in her ears, adrenaline slowly receding as it became apparent that nobody was in danger.

The kid smiled at her sheepishly, a hand rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, didn't think."

"You're a ghost." Valerie was too shocked to hide the note of revulsion that entered her voice. Her eyes moved towards the crime scene, and the body bag. It had been small enough to contain the scrawny teenager that stood in front of her.

He was dressed in a baggy t-shirt and jeans, making his twig-like arms look even thinner. Black hair, blue eyes, a guileless expression on his face. His defensive body language made him seem like the type of kid other kids picked on.

Unlike most ghosts who stuck around on the mortal plane, he had no immediately obvious cause of death. No gaping wounds or anything like that, making Valerie wonder how exactly he had died.

"You can see me." The ghost boy's eyes sparkled with wonder.

"No," answered Valerie in perfect deadpan, without breaking eye contact.

Rather than take offence, the teen smirked at the joke before turning serious. "Listen, I know we just met, but I need a favour."

"Listen, ordinarily I'd help you out, but since I'm banned from working-"

"I don't want you to catch my killer or anything like that, just pass along some messages."

"No."

"No?" The teen's eyes widened, and he looked like his entire world had fallen apart. "But you're the only one who can see me!"

"I've got enough of my own problems. Catching murderers is one thing, it's my job and an eye witness only helps, but I don't go out of my way to do favours for just anybody I run into on the street."

"But-"

"No. You've got no right to ask anything of me! Leave me alone!" She had to suppress the surge of guilt as she saw the ghost kid's crestfallen expression. She sighed, deflating as her anger left her. Her next words came out as little more than a whisper. "Please leave me alone."

Valerie held onto her father's hand, craning her neck to look at his face. She was seven years old, and he was a giant in her eyes.

He smiled at her. She beamed at him, showing off her missing front tooth.

It was a sunny day in suburbia, with plenty of families walking to the playground.

Valerie was preparing to run off with the other kids when she saw him.

He was an adult man with unremarkable features. Brown hair, forgettable face. He had a vacant expression. All in all, someone who could easily blend into a crowd.

Except for the fact that his chest had been torn open, revealing his ribs and guts. His entire front was covered in blood.

Valerie held harder onto her dad's hand, halfway hiding behind him. He gave her a worried look that she didn't notice.

Paulina's mom walked straight through the injured man, as if he wasn't even there.

The man, who had previously been distracted by his own thoughts, jerked back as if struck. His eyes darted from Paulina's mom, to the other adults, never stopping for more than a few seconds. "Please, help me." His voice sounded strangled, like it hurt for him to speak. "Please... Somebody... Anybody!"

The man's eyes met Valerie's.

She was too terrified to look away.

"You can see me."

Valerie woke with a start, jerkily sitting up. Her breathing was shallow and uneven. The image of the dead man's injuries was stuck on the insides of her eyelids.

It was on weak legs that she walked into her kitchen, and it was with shaking hands that she poured herself a glass of water. The gulped it down too quickly, still standing over the sink.

The coldness of her drink helped wake her up fully, banishing her memories back to the realm of nightmares.

Yellow light from the street lamps outside filtered in from her small kitchen window, making the remaining shadows deeper by contrast. Valerie flickered on the lamp over the stove, because it was the closest one.

When she turned around, the ghost boy from the alley was casually longing on her only kitchen chair.

She was still shaking, her forehead covered with a thin layer of cold sweat, and she would have hated him for seeing her that way if she had the energy to muster up any emotion.

There were plenty of things Valerie wanted to say to him. How did you find me? and I told you to leave me alone were at the top of the list. She settled for "Get out of my seat."

He flashed her an apologetic grin and got to his feet, letting her collapse into the chair. "I'm Danny, by the way."

"Don't care, go away."

Danny sat down on her counter, hand passing through the empty glass she had abandoned without tipping it over. She glared at him weakly, still emotionally exhausted.

"Why do you only have one chair?"

"I don't need more than one."

"But what if you have friends over?"

She didn't dignify that with a response. Danny didn't seem overly bothered by it.

"So... What's your first name, Detective Gray?"

"You don't need to know that."

"If you won't tell me, I'll just make one up." Danny smirked and brought his hands up to frame her between his fingers. He closed one eye and looked at her in thought. "You look like a... Jennifer."

"No."

"Joanna?"

"No."

"Jessica?"

"It doesn't begin with a 'J'."

"Miranda!" Danny snapped his fingers, grinning widely.

She wanted to wipe that smile off his face. "It's Valerie."

"Valerie? Okay, I guess that could work." Danny nodded to himself. "Valerie... Val... Valkyrie."

"Thanks," she said flatly, not bothering with hiding her sarcasm to spare his feelings. "I always wanted a nonsensical nickname."

A chill went through the room, making all the fine hairs on Valerie's arms stand up.

"Something is wrong." Danny's head snapped up, and the looked around the room with wide eyes. Almost unthinkingly, he got to his feet and moved closer to her.

"An angry ghost." Valerie whispered the words, as if saying them out loud would attract the attention of a large predator. It felt surreal, like a nightmare had somehow followed her into the waking world.

"An angry-"

The old TV in Valerie's living room turned on by itself, showing the random changing "snow" rather than the news channel she had left it on. The screech of static echoed through the apartment.

A thin crack appeared in the abandoned glass on the counter.

"We need to leave!" Valerie was a blur of motion, snatching up her keys and jacket. "We need to leave right now!"

"I don't understand!"

The glass exploded, showering the kitchen in sharp shards. Valerie barely had time to throw her arms up to cover her face, leaving her with hundreds of small wounds.

Ignoring the blood dripping down her arms, Valerie snatched up her phone and ran.

The corridor outside her apartment was painted in a cheery yellow, which had faded over time into a dull colour. The stairs leading outside were cut stone, wide and spiralling. The ceiling lamps flickered.

Valerie had placed her first foot on the staircase when she felt a hand on her back.

Her eyes widened and she reached for the handrails when the hand roughly pushed her forward, towards the stone steps.

"Valerie!"

She could barely hear Danny's scream, her blood pounded too loudly through her ears.

Cold fingers closed around her outstretched hand.

The pressure was too light, the fingers barely there, but it was enough to stop her from tumbling forward. She collapsed in a pile at the top of the steps.

When she turned and looked behind her, Danny was looking at his hands with awe.

The lamps stopped flickering.

AN: This thing will be 4 (or possibly 5) chapters long.