TITLE: A Simple Ghost(Love) Story
GENRE: Romance/humor, a teeny bit of angst
PAIRING(S): some Prussia/Hungary
RATING: PG-13, for potty mouths
WARNINGS: Possible necrophilia(not really, unless you're a prude ^_~), magical creatures, human names, fluff, lots of it
SUMMARY: Just the same old story; boy meets ghost, boy falls for ghost, the rest is simple. No matter what Alfred thinks.
NOTES: Done for the Secret Santa at usxuk community on Livejournal. A thousand thanks to the wonderful, loverly absolute_power who beta'ed this monstrosity for me and did it with love! A further thanks to the band The Fray whose wonderful song "Where the Story Ends" was a heavy inspiration to this story and you can spot it's influence in the titles of the parts. Hope you all enjoy, especially you kupodesu!

A Simple Ghost Story

Part One: All We Know is Distance

Alfred Jones looked up at the big, moldy old house that was to be his home for the next few months and decided he was never listening to Kiku again.

He meant it this time; he was never listening to Kiku again, never, ever again. He could forgive the disastrous Comic-Con incident of 2006 when he AND Ivan Braginski had been scheduled to talk about how both of their comics were being adapted into movies at the same time because that fight had turned out awesome for publicity, but this, this was too far. Kiku was his editor, someone who was supposed to take care of his comic book creator and nurture his muses, not someone who tortured him in new and inventive ways!

This was supposed to be a relaxing retreat for him, something to help get him out of the funk he'd been in for the last few months; filled with the outdoors, clean air, and stress-free days away from a rabid fan base who all needed to know what Captain Liberty, the savior of Independence City with his super strength and courage, would do next after defeating the evil General Winter who tried to bury the city in a hundred feet of snow. Liberty had saved the city, but had lost his powers to the General in order to save the lovely Lucy Mae, childhood friend and supposed love of Captain Liberty. It had been a thrilling end to a good storyline but now… now Alfred wasn't sure what to do next with his beloved hero. He'd figured when he'd started the story that by the time he actually got to Liberty losing his powers, he would've already had an awesome plan for how he got them back. No such luck though.

He had taken time off, as usual, after the comic book had released but when he had returned to his studio to begin work on the next issue, he found he could not think of one, not even one new and exciting plotline to show how Captain Liberty regained his powers. He knew it couldn't be easy and his fans were expecting something epic, something fantastic, something that was way cooler than falling into another vat of radioactive material, which was the best idea he seemed to be able to come up with. For months he storyboarded, played with ideas, tried to feed off Mattie and Kiku, but nothing seemed to work and Mattie told him he probably had a bit of a writer's block, that it was bound to happen eventually and he'd work himself out of it. That, however, wasn't good enough; Ivan Braginski had released the newest edition of his comic and as much as he hated the guy, Alfred had to admit that the new storyline he'd released was pretty damn cool.

Fans of Captain Liberty knew of the rivalry between Alfred and Ivan and the pressure to come out with a kick-ass new issue went even higher after that and still, 6 months later, he still had nothing to show for all the pressure and work. Mattie had suggested he take a break and get out of the country for a bit, that getting away might be able to help him calm down and come up with new ideas. Kiku had agreed and told him not two days later that he'd set up Alfred in a quaint little cottage in the English countryside in Kent and he'd have plenty of time to relax and unwind from all the stress.

However, he seemed to have forgotten to mention that the 'quaint little cottage' was actually a creepy-looking manor that looked like something out of a horror movie. He half-expected Leatherface to barge out with a bloody chainsaw any minute. Kiku knew, KNEW he hated anything and everything creepy and this house definitely was that; how was he supposed to relax when he had to worry about ghosts and monsters and giant bugs attacking? Alfred shivered and frowned as he parked his rental car in the dirt driveway and got out, glancing around and wishing he'd brought some salt with him. He took a deep breath, steeled his shoulders and headed inside, using the key to unlock the creaking door, dragging his duffel bags behind in after them.

The house wasn't falling apart or anything, but it definitely hadn't been lived in by anyone for a while—there was a thin layer of dust on the bookcases and the furniture looked a bit dated. He turned on the lights and pulled open the curtains after dropping the duffels on the floor, happy that he had working electricity and thinking the house wasn't so spooky when the sunlight came in. It was kind of nice actually, when it didn't look like axe-murders could hide out in the shadows. He opened up all the curtains and took out his phone, dialing Mattie as he walked out to the car and grabbed the rest of his stuff; his little brother had made him promise to call when he got to the house, as he was convinced that Alfred would kill someone driving on the other side of the road. Mattie, always the worry-wart.

Mattie answered on the second ring. "Hello? Alfred? Are you there? Did you get there ok? I told Kiku to triple-check those directions so you wouldn't get lost but—"

"Mattie, you need to breathe and take a chill pill. Yes, I'm here, yes the directions were fine, no accidents or maiming happened along the way, though you can tell Kiku he's a jackass and I hate him."

Mattie paused before asking tentatively, "Why do you hate Kiku?"

"Because he stuck me in this totally creepy house in the middle of nowhere, dude! I mean, it's big and stuff, and the furniture's sorta nice and all but seriously, it looks like a haunted house." He tucked his phone in between his shoulder and ear and lugged his other two duffel bags over his shoulders; he hadn't been sure how much to pack for a four-and-a-half month stay, but considering how lame he knew English food to be, he thought it a good idea to bring some of his favorite snacks, hence the other two duffel bags. "I've only got like one neighbor, a house down the road, so if I get attacked by ghosts or monsters in my sleep, Kiku can blame himself that there's no help nearby to save me as I'm being murdered."

"I'm sure it's not that bad, Al."

"Trust me, it is."

Mattie sighed and Alfred had to grin at the sound, he loved raising his brother's blood pressure. He plopped the duffel bags full of food onto the kitchen floor, happy that at least whoever owned the house kept the kitchen clean enough. "Well, maybe it'll be fun. You went away to get away from people, Al, so you could focus on your comic without distractions and relax; Kiku arranged the perfect place for you."

"Yeah, yeah… so, how's home?" Alfred hauled in his comic stuff inside and shut the door with his foot, setting all his graphic material and computer on a couch before deciding to do some exploring. He felt a bit better about it with Mattie on the phone, not that he was scared or anything.

"Fine, you've only been gone half a day. Mom and Dad want you to call them later."

"Will do." Alfred walked up the stairs, wincing when they creaked like every staircase in a horror movie did, and took in the antique-quality the house had. All the wood was in a rich, mahogany color and the carpet was soft, but not at all what he was used to back home. There were pictures lining the walls, all old-looking and depicting things like flowers and lakes and a cityscape or two he assumed was London. The house didn't smell, but there was a kind of lingering musty scent Alfred generally associated with his grandparents' house. It was big though, which was a lot different than his apartment in New York, and as long as you kept the curtains open, lots of sunshine brightened the place up.

"I mean it! I don't want to get mom's hysterical call at 2 AM because YOU forgot to call them to let them know you're alive."

"I said I would, Mattie, jeez, don't be such a nag." He peeked inside a large, opulent room with a huge bed in it and grinned. "Dude, you should check out the bed in this place! It's huge! The rooms are nice too, I guess… the décor's kind of old though." He laughed into the phone as he picked up a doily off a coffee table in the master bedroom and examined it before he snorted and dropped it, not caring that it landed on the ground.

"It's got good light though, right? So you can draw?"

"Yeah, the light's great once you open up the curtains. Who owns this house again? Kiku told me but I wasn't listening."

"Alfred…"

"Oh lighten up! It's not like he was talking about something important. I'm just curious. Whoever it is really needs to think about redecorating because I mean, it's pretty bad, Mattie!" Alfred shivered as he felt a cold breeze blow past him; that was another dock against the house: creepy, old, and drafty. "So, do you know?"

"It's some old family manor that got sold to that realtor company Kiku found years ago. Cakeland Estate or something… I'll ask Kiku tomorrow."

Alfred talked with Mattie for a few more minutes, long enough to check all the rooms and make sure they were all kosher (except for some locked door that probably led to the attic and Alfred had seen Beetlejuice enough times to know that he should just leave that door alone) before hanging up. He needed to unpack and it'd be better if he had use of both hands for that task. He made his way back to the master bedroom and opened the closet up wide, happy there were shelves instead of just hangers and headed back downstairs, eyes glancing over the coffee table on his way out, the doily he'd dropped now perfectly placed in the center once more.

Kiku called the next day and told him that the house was once a part of the Kirkland Estate, which belonged to some old, rich family that used to own all the land and the homes around here in the late 1800s and to 'apologize profusely' about the old quality of the house and that he 'didn't mean' to send Alfred somewhere scary. Alfred knew Kiku well enough to know the jerk had probably done lots of research when arranging a good place for Alfred to have a retreat at, including looking at pictures and stuff. He knew exactly where he was sending Alfred to and probably laughed evilly while he did so! Or, smirk and chuckle, which was about as much of an evil laugh that you could get out of Kiku Honda.

Still, he had to admit, the light in the house was pretty good for sketching and drawing and it was relaxing not being constantly surrounded by people like he was back home. He had spent most of the night tossing and turning as he tried to get used to the unfamiliar bed. He knew to bring his own pillow from past hotel experiences, and had got a few hours of sleep, enough to give him energy to explore the house and the surrounding area some more. He explored most of the downstairs of the house, which he had pretty much ignored the previous day before deciding that not only were the old inhabitants old, they were boring, and went outside to look around the grounds.

The area around the estate was so green. Alfred had lived in cities his whole life and had never really seen green like this; he wondered if every song or book that referenced 'emerald hills' did so after visiting a place like this. There was a small forest a little west of the house but other than that, he was surrounded by green hills and blue skies interrupted only by little outcroppings of trees, bushes, and wildflowers along the dirt road. It was summer so the weather was mild enough that Alfred thought about setting up some of his stands and tablets outside but he'd try out the house first, and see which gave him more inspiration.

It was a little bit of a drive into the nearby village of Chattenden from the house but it was an easy enough route to travel, and it had been fun to explore the village for a few days, though he really didn't trust the food so brought most of his own. He just didn't think a country that had a food called steak and kidney pudding and enjoyed it could really be trusted with his stomach. After he felt sufficiently relaxed and de-stressed, he broke out all his comic material and tried to start drawing, tried to just do sketches for practice and storyboard ideas on Captain Liberty regaining his powers.

And that's where he was a week later, sitting on the porch of the manor, staring at a blank page of drawing paper, frustrated and stressed out again that his little retreat was having no effect on his block at all. Alfred groaned and leaned back on one of the chairs, pinching at his eyes as he felt a headache bloom, hating life and hating Mattie for giving him the false hope that going away would help him brainstorm. He gathered up his sketch pad and stomped back inside, slamming the door behind him so hard the walls shook—and that's when he felt it again, a cold, windless breeze shiver past him. The house was awfully drafty; he kept getting the shivers even though it was summer, but this time, the shivers were accompanied by something else.

"Would you stop stomping around and slamming doors in my house, you uncouth ruffian!"

Alfred let out a yelp and dropped his sketch pads, whirling around at the sound of the voice behind him; but he saw nothing there. His eyes widened and he frowned as he picked up his stuff off the ground, hurrying up to his bedroom where he was charging his Blackberry. He knew it, he knew—no, no that was crazy. It wasn't a ghost, it was just the wind, even though the windows were closed, and his own frustration and stress that was getting to him. He had hardly eaten anything since lunch that day, he was probably hungry too and that was probably affecting his brain functions. That's all it was, just stress and an over-active imagination, not a ghost or an invisible man (because that had definitely sounded like a man's voice).

He heard a knock at the door and he jumped a bit, laughing uneasily at himself as he realized it was just knocking at the front door and certainly nothing to be scared over- not that he was scared mind you, just a little startled is all. He grabbed his phone and took a deep breath, humor taking a firmer hold on him as he walked back down the stairs and answered the door, smiling bright at the friendly-looking woman holding out a basket of yummy-smelling food. She was in her mid-twenties, probably only a few years older than Alfred, and had very pretty, long brown hair pulled back from her face with a kind of decorated kerchief and dark brown eyes.

"Hello there! Just wanted to pop over to say hello and welcome you to the neighborhood, small as it may be!" She spoke English fluently but had a slight accent that Alfred couldn't place. "You're visiting, yeah? From America?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" Alfred took the basket from her hands with quick thanks.

"Oh, the owner told me, we're old friends. My name's Elizaveta, I live just down there with my husband, Gilbert. You're welcome to stop by our home anytime you like for a good, home-cooked meal! I, ah, don't mean to insult my new home's national cuisine but—"

"I'm Alfred and insult away, I totally feel the same! Seriously, just some of the names make me wanna hurl," Alfred interrupted with a laugh. Elizaveta giggled too before there was a loud crash from upstairs, which drew both of their attentions upward. "I, uh, I guess my sketching stuff fell over."

"Oh no, that wasn't you. It's the Spirit… he's awfully temperamental and cranky, always works himself up into a snit when his homeland gets slighted in any way. Can't tell you how many times Gil has had a door slammed on his fingers or in his face."

Alfred stared at her, smile frozen on his face as Elizaveta's words processed in his head. "I-I think you said there's an actual GHOST in this house? Is that right?"

"Well of course, I thought everyone around here knew that; the owner, Vash, certainly does."

"And you're being completely serious? I mean, for real, there's a real live GHOST in this house?" Alfred's voice took on a slightly hysterical tone which made Elizaveta back up a pace and raised her hands apologetically.

"Oh, oh I'm so sorry, I assumed you knew! Damn it! I'm really sorry, Alfred, I didn't mean to scare you or anything, it's just that usually, when people rent the manor, they know it's haunted, it's one of the most well-known sites in England! People come here from all over to investigate or have the novelty of staying in a haunted manor, I assumed that Vash told you, or told your travel agent. I promise though, he's not a mean Spirit, just a little irritable is all. Are you all right, Alfred? Do you want to come over for a little while? You look a little—pale."

"What, no I'm fine, totally fine!" Alfred blinked a few times and smiled wide at Elizaveta. "I don't believe in that stuff, you know? And even if I did, I'm way too awesome for any old ghost to try and scare… anyway, really nice meeting you, tell your husband I say hi!"

He shut the door in the poor woman's face and dropped the food basket in the kitchen before running back upstairs. A haunted house, he was staying in a freaking haunted house! He was so getting back at Kiku when he got back to New York, he didn't care if he'd been duped as well by this nefarious Vash guy. He ran into his room and started checking inside the closets, under the bed, in the bathroom, expecting to see a ghostly figure waiting for him, maybe with a bloody knife or something, but he didn't find anything. Everything was in place, everything looked normal; everything looked just as it had before he had it confirmed that there really was a ghost living with him. He suppressed a shudder at the thought that the ghost could have been in the bathroom at the same time as he had been.

Well, one thing was for sure and that was he hadn't travelled all the way out here and spent all the money on a plane ticket to be driven out of the house because of some cranky, dead old man! He narrowed his eyes at the room and stood tall, channeling every bit of his heroic persona Captain Liberty that he could and reminding himself that he was every bit as courageous and heroic as the Captain was since he had created him. He could certainly take on some cranky old ghost. He took a deep breath and prepared himself, grabbing one of his sketchpads to use as a bludgeoning device should it come to a fight—he wasn't sure how effective a sketchpad would be against a ghost but it was something.

"Hey, I know you're there now, Ghost! Where are you hiding?" he yelled out loud to the room. Alfred's shouts went unanswered and he cocked an eyebrow, waiting for something to rattle or a door to slam, or maybe even that weird, cold breeze. But nothing happened. He frowned and decided to try again. "Can you hear me, you cranky old man? I know you're here now so you can just, I don't know, skedaddle. Go haunt a different house!"

Still nothing. Alfred looked around and his eyes settled on the doily on the coffee table and he smiled as an idea popped into his head. Elizaveta said he was cranky and Alfred had heard the voice yell at him when he slammed the door… he was probably a neat-freak too. He dropped the sketchpad and dug around in one of his art bags, making a small noise of success when he grabbed a permanent marker, waving it around the room as he walked over to the coffee table.

"All right, not sure if you know what this is, as you're probably really old, but this is a pen that will permanently stain anything it touches. As in forever. So, if you don't show your damn ghost face in two seconds," he snatched up the doily from the coffee table for dramatic effect, "I'm going to mark all over this doily—"

"You do and I'll personally make sure all those ruddy sketchpads of yours are ruined!" Alfred turned fast in the direction the cold, angry voice was coming from, marker and doily still in hand, really wishing he had some salt, and stared into the face of a young man who was perhaps only a few years older than he was. He looked in confusion while the young man, who was sort of see through and had a pale glow around him, gazed back in anger, fists clenched tight at his side, enormous eyebrows furrowed over a pair of the greenest eyes Alfred had ever seen. Messy, pale-looking hair framed the ghost's face and as Alfred stared, the only thing he could think was that he didn't think ghosts were generally so… adorable.

While he looked, the ghost's anger started to dissipate into confusion as the human just stood there, eyes strangely focused on the space the ghost occupied, almost as if he could see the ghost. But that was impossible; no one, not in a hundred and fifteen years, had been able to really see him. Oh sure, they all knew he was there, what with his door rattling, voice echoes, and the cold breeze he could send forth, but never had anyone been able to really see him, even when he stood, or floated really, right in front of their noses. But still, why was this boy just staring at him then? He cocked an eyebrow and waved a pale hand slowly in front of the human's face, chiding himself as he did so, knowing that it was completely pointless and the human was just likely simple-minded—

"Uh, hi?" was his response, along with a wave of hello. The ghost yelped, actually yelped, and floated backwards and out of sight. "Wait! I wasn't—where did you go? I'm not gonna hurt you, and you're dead anyway so what could I even do to you? Mr. Ghost?"

There was silence at first, but then Alfred heard a much quieter and much more hesitant voice echo behind him and he grinned as he turned around. "You- you can see me?"

"Well, yeah of course! I mean, you're standing- uh, floating, right there."

The ghost stared at him, as if gauging the truth in his response before he floated back down the floorboards, solidifying into a clear set of legs and a pair of feet. He was shorter than Alfred by a little bit. The ghost continued his silent contemplation before he crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head to the side, giving Alfred small nod in acknowledgment of his words. "No one's ever been able to see me before."

"Really?"

"Why else would I say so?"

"I guess I'm just way more awesome then anyone else who's stayed here!"

The ghost snorted and rolled his eyes as he floated around Alfred, his eyes still studying and probing—it was starting to make Alfred feel a little nervous. "So, you're a ghost and everything."

"An astute observation, idiot. Of course I'm a ghost! What else would I be?"

"Hey, no need to get all snappy! It's not like I've encountered a lot of ghosts before or planned to when I came here. And would you cut that out? You're creeping me out with the staring!"

Alfred wouldn't have known it was possible if he didn't witness it, but the ghost flushed a slightly rosy shade before he mumbled an apology and focused his eyes on the floor for a moment. He felt another grin stretch across is face and he took a tentative step towards where the ghost had settled by the window, not wanting to startle him as he appeared kind of skittish and as unnerved by the idea of Alfred being able to see him as Alfred had been with the idea that there was a ghost in the house. The ghost watched him with narrowed eyes before he huffed and placed his hands on slender, faded-out hips.

"I'm not a frightened child, unlike someone else in this room not ten minutes ago. There's no need to inch forwards as if I am."

"Whatever dude. Just being, I don't know, polite or something," Alfred said with humor. "I'm Alfred, Alfred F Jones."

"I know; your name is all over your sketch books and luggage."

"You're supposed to introduce yourself now, not creep me out more with your spying. Have you forgotten all your manners being dead?"

The ghost spluttered before he 'stomped' forward and waved a finger in Alfred's face. "As if you know anything about manners, you- you rude, ill-spoken, messy brat! I'll have you know I was raised with impeccable manners and certainly exercise them much better than you do!"

"All right, all right, don't need to get your panties in a twist! I just wanted to know your name—but you have to admit, looking at all my stuff without my permission is pretty rude."

"This is MY home and YOU are the one trespassing in it. I'm allowed to inspect the qualities of the person with whom I am forced to share my afterlife with for the next few months!"

"You're dead though so you can't really own a house."

"Would you quit saying that?"

"What?"

"That I'm dead!"

"But you are! How is that offensive?"

"You- you can't just fling that back in a ghost's face! How would you like to have something you hated about yourself shoved in your face constantly?"

Alfred stared back at the ghost as a saddened, kind of angry expression settled over his face and he felt a swell of regret bloom in his chest at the sight. He guessed ghosts probably didn't like being reminded that they're dead, since they were obviously stuck on Earth for some reason and not able to 'move on.' It must suck having to watch everyone around you living and enjoying life while you had to just hang around, not alive but not fully at rest. He felt a rush of pity for the ghost and wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but he was pretty sure that a.) the ghost would not appreciate pity and b.) he wouldn't be able to hang on the ghost long enough for a hug anyway. So he settled for an apologetic hand raise and smile.

"Okay, okay, you're right. I won't say it anymore."

The ghost frowned but gave a nod before settling back against the window. Alfred didn't want to crowd him so he stuck out his hand gave an encouraging smile to the ghost, deciding to try starting over with their introduction. "Let's try this again, my name's Alfred, but most of my friends just call me Al. What's your name? I don't want to have to keep calling you 'ghost' all the time!"

The ghost didn't move from his spot near the window for several moments, just stared at Alfred and his hand with those greener-than-green eyes, but eventually he stepped forward and settled his transparent hand against Alfred's- nothing actually touching because they couldn't, but his hand resting against the palm of Alfred's slightly so that it appeared they were. Alfred gave a small laugh and grin as he looked at their hands, wondering how he could have ever been scared of this ghost before, a ghost who was blustery and cranky but just as nervous as Alfred was, just as unsure at meeting a new friend as any living human would be.

"I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. It's a pleasure to meet you, Alfred."

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, Arthur."

Well, it wasn't what he had expected to happen when he first decided to take a trip to try and jumpstart his creative juices again, but Alfred knew one thing was for sure. Things were definitely going to get interesting having a ghost as a new friend, and Alfred was going to do everything he could to try and help his new friend find the 'light', so to speak. It seemed the least he could do.

TBC…

Review, yes?