tu me manques [ghost au]

[waveridden]

Title: Title of the fill (or a brief description if preferred)

Fandom: Life Series SMP

Prompt: supernatural happenings

Rating: G

Summary: Jimmy has a long-awaited near-impossible reunion. [945 words, ghost AU]

“I need a favor,” Jimmy says.

“Anything,” Tang says, because he’s an idiot and a sap like that, and he loves Jimmy. “What’s up?”

Jimmy takes a breath and holds it, a pattern that helps a body he no longer has. “Can you call my sister?”

Tango pauses and then slowly turns to look at Jimmy. He doesn’t seem upset or even confused, just looks concerned as he leans in. “Are you sure?”

Jimmy misses Lizzie the way he misses his lungs. “I’m certain.”

“Will she answer if a stranger calls?”

“No,” Jimmy allows with a wince. “I was hoping to talk to Pearl, they met a few times, I think she can… do something? It’s Pearl, she has that kind of…” he wiggles his fingers.

Tango nods in understanding. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says, in a tone that’s half a warning.

Jimmy knows, though. He knows that means that it’s going to happen.

It takes a few weeks, by which time — well, Jimmy hasn’t forgotten about it exactly, he thinks about Lizzie every single waking moment, but it’s easy to abstract her existence. She was a person to him and now she’s a memory.

And then Tango leaves to go into town for something or another, so Jimmy’s lounging about in an abstract space, not quite feeling the hours pass. He’s relaxed, thinking about checking on the cows, when the door opens.

It’s strange, though too quiet, and too many people. Jimmy stretches his senses, figuring it’s probably Pearl, maybe Etho.

“Where is he,” says a voice, sharp and threaded with a tremor, and it shocks Jimmy back into attention.

“I’ll get him,” Tango says. By the time he makes it back to the kitchen counter where the hat is sitting, it’s taking all of Jimmy’s energy to stay still and not snap to the entryway.

He pops out as Tango gets close enough, not bothering with a visible form. “Tango!”

“She got here a day early, I was going to talk to you tonight,” Tango says hurriedly. His hands close around the brim of the hat, and he always cradles it like it’s so precious, with more care than Jimmy ever had when it was his. “I swear, I would’ve warned you, but Pearl called and said to leave you at home and it was— look, can you—”

“If you don’t take me downstairs right now I’m moving into the light and the great beyond,” snaps Jimmy.

Tango huffs out a laugh and presses a kiss to the crown of the hat. “Pearl told her she has to wear it. So you can have a private conversation, at least.”

Jimmy nods, and then remembers that Tango can’t see him, and then can’t figure out how to say anything at all because Tango’s going into the living room and Lizzie—

Her hair is the same color, a little shorter but not much. She’s wearing shoes that Jimmy recognizes and a sweater that he doesn’t. Her eyes are already wet with tears, and her arms are crossed tight across her chest, and she is staring directly at the hat.

Tango doesn’t say anything, doesn’t hesitate, just places the hat on Lizzie’s head and steps back. Pearl, off to the side, silently threads her fingers through his, and Jimmy will thank her. Later.

For now the only thing that matters is that he closes his eyes and tries to move in, where it’s warm and familiar and not quite invasive, and he says softly, “Hi.”

Lizzie takes a shuddering sob of a breath, and the tears spill over instantly, hot and fast. “Hi,” she says, out loud at first, and then she tries again, bouncing in her head along the way to Jimmy’s. “Oh my god, you’re here? You’re— this is real?”

“It’s me,” Jimmy says instantly. “It’s me, Lizzie, right here, I mean— sort of, but— we’ll talk about the sort of later—”

“I need to sit down,” Lizzie says, “please, I—”

Jimmy doesn’t hesitate. He could repeat the request out loud, or urge Lizzie to; instead he pops out of the hat into material form and takes Lizzie by the hand. She sobs all the louder but lets him tug her over to the sofa, where she collapses on it, curling up as she goes, squeezing his hand.

“You died,” Lizzie wails; Jimmy can see Tango and Pearl vanishing out the back door and silently thanks god that one of them has some kind of social tact for this. He has never seen Lizzie like this, beyond any semblance of grace or control. Her face is red and blotchy and the hat is falling off her head, and she’s squeezing Jimmy’s hand so hard that her fingers and thumb are nearly touching, encircling his fingers in whole. “You died in a fire! I arranged your funeral!”

“I know,” Jimmy says, and it’s only when he hears his voice that he realizes he’s crying too. Figures. “Lizzie, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how long it was, I didn’t understand, I didn’t mean to, I never wanted to—”

“I’m going to kill you again!” Lizzie shouts, and then her arms are around Jimmy’s shoulders. Her face is pressed to his neck, wet and kind of disgusting, and it’s all he can do to hold onto corporeality so he can hold onto this forever. “Jimmy, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy, you’re a ghost, you’re here, Jimmy—”

“Lizzie,” Jimmy sobs, “I missed you. I missed you every day that I was enough of a person, I missed you, I missed you.”

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. He doesn’t care.