Fandom [CLOSED] Tokyo Ghoul: Dead Enmity

[yaint]

Jackson could not hold on to his rattling sigh. Great. Not only had his question gone completely ignored, but he was also left to sit above the ground, shivering in the cold night air whilst a pair of teenagers chased each other through the room to his side. With nothing else to do but wait, he returned to his rusty bicycle to tend to its creaking frame again.


*


There was no way Daryl would have been able to read the writing without a torch; even in the light, the script was faint. It might have been written that way, or it might have faded. There was no date on the note to be able to tell, but there was more information to break down.


In a wide, rounded font was written, 'At least you tried!' A number of roughly-scrawled five-point stars surrounded the words in a circle, and there were at least ten underlines scribbled underneath the statement. A winking cartoon face was visible on one side.


Beneath the first greeting text, there was some more serious writing. It was all in small-sized capitals, neatly lined with barely any slant. 'You're freaking sick,' it read. 'Being in trouble isn't any excuse for murder. Thanks for not covering your tracks here, though. We'll come visit you in jail.'


After that dark and serious warning, a name had been signed. By the looks of the lettering, it could have been written by somebody called Nick or Nate, but it was impossible to tell because it had been crossed out in a thicker black marker - and apparently by the same person as the first writer, because their handwriting came back at the bottom of the page with, 'R.I.P. xxxx' and three hearts drawn side-by-side.

 

[Yoki]

"Fuck this shit." It wasn't hard for even Daryl to work out that this note was not friendly, someone had left this hoping it would be found...by who he didn't know, but he knew that this piece of paper could be more than damaging. Someone had left that body there, at an abandoned house...why? They couldn't have know... "Fuck..." 


Within seconds of uttering the curse, the man had scrunched up the note in his hand, reducing it to a small paper ball. Jackson. He had to know something about this, whoever that body was...maybe he knew them, maybe he could somehow decode this whole situation. 


It didn't take long after he'd read the note for Daryl to decide what he was doing, it was possible they were in danger, or that someone knew of their location at the very least. Even if they didn't, there was a dead body in the cellar and someone might return to see if their little surprise had been received. After all, the writer invoked everything but positive connotations. 


He'd gone back into the house through the back door without saying a word and then stood there in silence for a good few minutes. Did he tell anyone? They could all get spooked if he did... He'd have to watch the basement, no one else could go down there yet. Something wasn't right. 


"Hey." Daryl snapped out of his trance when Dane waved a hand in front of his face, he seemed confused by the other's expression, but he continued anyway. "Everything alright?"
 


"Yeah. Fine." Daryl didn't even hesitate, he just put his hands in his pockets and nodded, looking to the ground again. If he wanted to say something, here was his chance. "Dane." 


"Hm?" Taking note of the younger's stance, Dane stepped back, crossing his arms, "Yeah?"


"I'm thinking of sending Rachael back with Nate..." Daryl looked up, "Would you want Kedin to go with them?" 


*


"The fuck is this shit?" A scrunched up piece of paper flew at Jackson's head, thrown from the other side of the room, where Daryl stood in the doorway, something between a scowl and a frown on his face. Once he had Jackson's attention, he pushed himself off of the door frame and made his way into the room. "Stop playing with your fucking toys and pick it up. We're going to the basement. Now." 

 

[yaint]

There was no explanation. No 'hey, look at this' or 'I'm done'. Daryl had just turned around, climbed the stairs and flown indoors without so much as a glance in Jackson's direction. The bespectacled man was forced to twist and turn to look. "Hey!" he hooted. But Daryl had gone.


*


There had been no point in going on some mission of pursuit. Daryl lived inside his own mind without trying to place himself in someone else's shoes, the selfish bastard, and getting through to him when there was disagreement involved was as good as impossible. So of course Jackson had rolled his shoulders, shrugged off the sudden rush indoors and stubbornly continued tightening the wheels on his bicycle.


Of course, being engrossed in a task came at a price; the paper hitting his head spooked Jackson, and the man nearly fell out of his seat in shock. "What?" he mouthed, dumbfounded until the words arranged themselves into the correct order inside his head. "Daryl, wh- what the hell are you on about? I can't help you clear the space, you know that. C-couldn't you just go ask Dane or someone?"

 

[Yoki]

"No." The reply was simple and sharp, and despite telling Jackson to pick up the paper, Daryl had now done it himself, dropping it in the other's lap. "Fucking move your dumb ass." With that he grabbed the back of Jackson's wheelchair, just like he had done when they had first met, and practically dragged him outside without a word. 


Once the two had made it across the garden and to the still open basement, Daryl stopped and muttered something to himself under his breath, although it wouldn't have been audible to Jackson's human ears, before moving to look down the stairs. Yeah. That would be fine. 


Without so much as a 'watch yourself' to Jackson he'd tipped the wheelchair up slightly and roughly started to push it down the stairs. It wouldn't have been a comfortable ride for Jackson, but Daryl wasn't in the mood to care about the guy's comfort, he just needed him to see something. There was no guarantee Jackson knew any more than he did, but they could at least try... He guessed. 


Once at the bottom the green haired ghoul practically slammed Jackson flat on the ground again and walked away, moving to stand over the space where he'd collected the note from... Over that rotting, disturbing corpse he'd been unlucky enough to discover. 


"Don't make a single goddamn noise." He spoke in a low tone without turning around, just expecting Jackson to roll towards him, "Not unless you wanna fuck everything up." 

 

[yaint]

'Don't make a single goddamn noise,' Daryl said, but unfortunately for him it was too little, too late. Jackson had grabbed on to his wheels as soon as Daryl took hold, spouting questions and complaints until his fingers ached and slipped. He was no match for a ghoul. Now he was going down, his mouth open with no noise coming out as he was violently lurched over and over on the way down the stairs.


"Holy...Shit," the man gasped when they stopped. "You idiot, what in the hell was that for!? How are we going to get back up now, huh?" His first instinct after calming down somewhat was to put a finger to his chest just to prove how quickly his heart was racing. Then he checked his legs, his chair, everything for damage. It was a miracle nothing was broken, by the way that trip had felt. Either Daryl was in a seriously bad mood or there was something he seriously needed Jackson to see.


Though it was difficult in the narrow space, Jackson re-adjusted his glasses, passed through the door in the wire fence and came shakily to sit just a couple of metres behind Daryl, the closest he could get. But even if he could move farther, he would not have wanted to anyway; there was some kind of overpowering stench lingering in this room and it made him want to vomit.


"Daryl," he begun quietly, cautiously, "Wh... What is that?"

 

[Yoki]

Daryl grunted, his eyes softening slightly now that he was looking at the body and not Jackson. It wasn't like he enjoyed seeing someone that way, but he'd seen so many people die, this wasn't anything new... It was threatening however, considering they'd come here for privacy and now they had a note that basically said they weren't alone. 
 


"What does it fucking look like?" He snapped, he didn't mean to, but he wasn't in the mood for Jackson's dumb questions. "I put that paper in you lap, just read it already." It took everything in him to refrain from spouting insult after insult at Jackson, or putting any aggressive words in his sentence at all, but now was not the time for him to take his anger out on someone. They had more important things to worry about. 


With a sigh, Daryl knelt down on the ground next to the body, but he didn't touch it...he didn't want to. "Found it on her. In a bottle. Someone left it here..." His voice was less pissed off and more relaxed now, like he at least had some sympathy left for the woman in front of him, "Which means someone knew it would be found." At that point his head turned to look at Jackson, staring as if he'd know something that Daryl didn't, but...he just looked shocked more than anything. "Like I said. Quiet. No one else needs to know." 

 

[yaint]

The piece of paper on his lap had been the least of Jackson's worries, what with him being abducted and shoved violently down the stairs like some kind of toy. To express his discontent, he even started to complain, "Well if you'll just give me one second without trying to kill me, I'd... Oh. Oh God..."


He saw it before he could even finish.


The body. The maggots. Those clothes and that hair and the golden chain around her neck...


Even after Daryl's growing impatience and warning to stay quiet, Jackson could not help the noise he made next. It was some kind of animalistic cry, a screech of pain which could almost have been English. But grief only had one language, and right now Jackson was babbling in it, groping desperately at everything he could reach to try and get closer.


"No, no, no," he kept saying. That was his mother. Dead, rotting, completely vile and repulsive. But that was her, the woman he had left behind to keep out of this mess he had made. "No... Oh God, D-Daryl, oh fuck..."


There was no time to reconsider. He had to get closer, to touch her skin and feel it so that he could wake up from this nightmare and know that Tilly was just a phone call away, like she always had been. So with both arms, he pushed back and hurled himself against the ground to crawl, whimpering, so that he could hold his mother's decaying hand. The paper fell forgotten to the floor where he had left his chair.


"Daryl," he croaked again, trying not to look at all of the maggots. "Do you know who this is, Daryl? Do you know who did it? Fuck... I'm gonna kill them, I... Jesus, why her, what the hell..."

 

[Yoki]

"Ad-...a... I know... Must be..." 


There was a voice somewhere, Adrian couldn't hear it all that clearly but there was definitely a voice. It was muffled, distant, but the person was definitely speaking clearly. The words he could hear were pronounced perfectly. Was he underwater? It sounded like he was underwater...or...like someone had stuffed something in his ears. His hearing was muffled, and the voices that should have been constant kept fading in and out. It was scaring him...


Where was he again? 


There was a cold floor beneath him, he could feel that, he was laying down on it. His hands were fastened together, he...wanted to move, but it was too hard... Even though no other part of him was tied to anything. 


Adrian opened his mouth in an effort to speak, but his body just didn't respond to his mind's commands, he was tired...he didn't understand why... He didn't want to sleep, why was he falling asleep? The boy swallowed, finally managing to shift his legs forwards, if only slightly. He was so...tired... So...sleepy... 


Maybe that's why he didn't notice it at first. That strange tingling feeling moving up his arms... The dull pain in his wrists didn't set in until at least ten seconds after the initial movement of his feet. In his exhausted and confused state he'd neglected to realise that he seemed to be curled up in a small ball, his legs hugged tightly to his chest and feet resting on the cuffs that linked his hands together...like he'd been attempting to push them off at some point.


Had he?


Was he doing that before? 


He didn't remember...


His postion had been jolted slightly when he'd suddenly moved his legs forwards, causing his shoulder to click as his arms were pulled forwards, but...that wasn't the important part... 


The boy opened his weary eyes, blinking as fast as his body would let him. Everything was blurred, all he saw were the wavy outlines of his legs and arms in front of him, along with...something red? What was that? It seemed to cover his lower arms and part of the floor below them, but his vision hadn't cleared enough to work it out yet. What... What was it? 


In one suddenly movement his head jerked up and he pulled his feet away from the cuffs on his hands, letting them stretch out on the floor, but making no attempt to move them again. Then he dragged his arms towards his chest... The red stuff streaked... His senses certainly weren't on his side considering it was only then that he'd started to take in that all too familiar metallic smell, after that it took him less that a second to work out that it was blood that covered his arms and the ground below them. Blood? Why was there blood? And...it wasn't just any blood...it was his. He knew it was. 


All of that rapid blinking had helped to finally clear his eyesight, but it definitely hadn't helped to clear his mind. He felt heavy, tired, like someone had placed two twenty ton weights on his back and then sat on top of them, everything was difficult to move...it was an effort just to breathe, and he was pretty sure he was breathing too quickly to actually take in any oxygen... But whilst his mind was still foggy, his vision was not, and those dull, grey orbs of his had practically attached themselves to the boy's wrists. 


Uneven red lines tarnished his pale skin, mostly spanning across the length of the underside of his arm. None of them were even, the skin underneath some of them was scratched and damaged, like someone had tried to slash him with a sharp object and had instead dragged that object down his wrist. They only reached half way up both his forearms, but there definitely wasn't a lack of them... Blood seeped out of the wounds, staining his skin and creating small puddles on the ground, but...he didn't mind that... Shouldn't it hurt more? After all, as he moved his cuffs seemed to scrape against open wounds, so...shouldn't it hurt more? For a forearm covered in cuts and bruises it...really didn't hurt too much, sure he felt something...but he didn't know whether he could call it pain or not... Pain was usually so much worse. 


"Oh...look he's awake." That voice came through again, female, he...recognised it, although it still sounded underwaterish. He was just glad he could hear all the words. "How long was he meant to be asleep? Did they not give him enough?" 


"I'm pretty sure if they gave him anymore they would have killed him. The boy is tiny." This time a man's voice could be heard, stronger, older, this person had less emotion, more logic... 


"Mmn...I suppose so." 


Finally, Adrian shifted his head so that he was looking up at the glass window at the front of the small room he'd become so used to. His large eyes blinked once or teice more as their helpless gaze rest on a small, blonde girl he more than recognised and a taller man who seemed to be in his late thirties. 


"Le-" Adrian tried choking out a word, but the second he spoke he felt a strange stabbing feeling in his gut, causing his eyes to widen and his body to convulse as he retched. 


"Aw... It's okay, you don't need to speak." The small girl laughed and shook her head, placing a hand on the glass and kneeling down. She stayed silent for a moment, just starting at the boy, before her thin lips parted once more. "You're still cute, y'know that Ada?" 


Ada... A...da... Adrian's eyes widened at the use of the nickname, only one person called him that, only one, and that was... Lea. 


Within a second of remembering the name he'd shot up into a sitting position and called it out, but considering his body had hardly budged a few moment before, the sudden movement was enough to send him to a fit of coughing and spluttering. 


"Hey!" Lea looked up to the man standing next to her, grinning, "See, he remembers me!" 


"Don't encourage him." 


"Oh. Right!" Lea turned back to the glass, staying quiet for a moment, "You probably shouldn't move too much, you're hurt after all." 


"H-" Adrian doubled over, trying his best to take deep breaths in between coughs, he didn't want to start panicking now. "Hurt?" 


"Well, yeah. You...do know what happened, right?" The silence that followed was enough to give Lea her answer, "No...huh?" Her bright blue eyes darkened slightly as she stood up and removed her hand from the glass. "I thought you'd at least remember that." Again there was silence between the three, Lea and her companion stood there looking at Adrian as he rocked back and forth in an attempt to stop himself from going into a fit. You couldn't help but pity him in such a position. 


"You freaked out on someone." Lea continued, once she'd decided that Adrian would at least be half listening to her, "I mean...no one expected it so they weren't ready... You really hurt her Ada." She tapped her foot on the ground, waiting for a moment before continuing, "But you're kinda weak and small so I guess someone managed to get a hold of the situation, I don't know, I wasn't that... But I know they brought you back here and then you started yelling about some stuff that no one understood and you wouldn't stop cutting up your wrists trying to get outta those cuffs, which you won't be able to do by the way, so...they knocked you out. Just for safety..." 


At this point Adrian had stopped cough and was instead just sitting keeled over, his jet black hair obstructing his eyes, but...he didn't care, he didn't want to look up anyway... All...of that happened and he didn't remember any of it? Why? Were they hurting him? He didn't want to get hurt again, and they always looked like they were going to hurt him... 


He chose not to reply, pulling his knees up to his chest and shaking his head. That couldn't be right, he didn't know anything. He was getting blood all over himself, but it didn't matter to him at that moment, his mind was too scrambled. What was it? There was something... Someone was meant to... What about when... Not one thing in his head seemed to connect to another, they were all random thoughts, taking up the space he needed to store his actual thoughts. 


"Jackson..." There was a muffled mumble from Adrian, although it was unlikely anyone but himself truly heard what he was saying. 


"Ja what?" Lea furrowed her eyebrows, taking a step towards the glass once more, "Adrian... Ada, what did you say?" 


"I...want Jackson..." His voice was weak, but it was loud enough to carry a little bit... Hopefully he was heard. 


"Hmph." The male on the other side of the glass grunted, "Yes, boy, he'll be around soon." 


---


"No, Jackson." Daryl started, "I don't know who it fucking is." He could tell by the way the man had jumped out of his wheelchair and onto the floor that this person was important to him... So, yes, Daryl was trying to be nicer, but he honestly didn't know if that was going to well or not. He was in a stale mood. 


Then Jackson went on the ask a stupid question, who did this? If he knew he wouldn't have brought the guy down there. "Y'know." With an aggravated sigh, Daryl stomped over to the piece of paper left on the ground and dropped it in front of Jackson's sorry face, "If you really the paper then maybe you'll fucking understand. I don't have a fucking clue who did this shit, but they sure as hell wanted someone to find it, even considerate enough to leave a letter." After dropping the paper, he'd backed up a few inches, "And stop touching Jackson, that's bad for you, you're human y'know... That'll get you ill." 


The backing up and warning wasn't really needed, but...Daryl understood this had to be devastating if that was someone Jackson knew...he just...didn't want to get in the way, not in his sour mood. It wasn't like he was heartless after all, he just...wasn't great at expressing sympathy, but it didn't mean he didn't feel it. 


"Seriously." His voice was lower and softer by this point, "Read the note, and STOP touching. We have a problem." 

 

[yaint]

His heart felt as though it would never beat again. His hands kept sweating, trembling, knuckles white against the blackness of the floor. It was as though his body could not decide whether to be shocked or disgusted, but he wanted to vomit either way.


That was his mother down there. But that was impossible. Tilly had been here forever, since years ago in an age Jackson could not even imagine, and this thing didn't even look like her. When the man glanced up, he saw a gaping jaw crawling with things he didn't want to see and he screamed. 


"Oh, that is... Disgusting..." he wheezed.


What the hell was he still doing holding it? Daryl had told him to let go. For once, Jackson agreed. His fingers untangled from his mother's, and they came back filthy. He felt contaminated for having touched that thing. If it was going to make him sick, he thought that he would rather chop off his arm.


Despite his horror, however, Jackson had to know everything Daryl did. One hand groped around for a hold, and he used an old, spidery cabinet to pull himself up into a sitting position. The movement made him nauseous, but it was easier to concentrate without Tilly's ghastly face looming just inches away. 


The paper.


The paper, the note Daryl had dropped into his lap. It was supposed to be important. What was on it?


It was almost impossible to see in the dismal gloom, but by touch alone Jackson found the paper. His human eyes strained to make out the markings against the yellowed fibres. The letters, 'R.I.P,' he could guess quite easily, but the rest of it was impossible. Some smaller text and a larger font at the top, surrounded by symbols he could not recognise in this light.


"I can't read this," Jackson blurted urgently. He took one more look at his mother and shuddered. Of all the things his eyes could make out, she had to be the worst. He made himself look away again, just so that he could pretend she wasn't there. "Daryl, what does it say? Is - it there a name on it? Come on, there's got to be, s-... Someone's been in here, Daryl, they - they d-did this on p-purpose. I don't know who it is, tell me what it says!"


And with that last word, the man thrust the paper out in Daryl's direction and waggled it in the rancid air to signal his move.

 

[Yoki]

"Shut the fuck up!" Daryl yelled as Jackson started demanding the guy tell him what the paper said, "I told you to read it ages ago, so shut the fuck up and listen if you don't know what it says!" Jackson was spooked and upset, sure, but if he didn't like Daryl get a word in edgewise then there was no way the man could ever tell him what any of it meant. It was a stupid idea to have brought Jackson down there, but he had no other choice. 


He remember what the note said as clear as day, he didn't need to read it, he already knew the word off by heart, just from that one read. It was awful to think that he'd memorised them so quickly, but it seemed it was going to come in handy, he didn't want to have to get his phone out again...it was better that corpse stayed in the dark. 


"Top bit says 'at least you tried'," He started, turning his head away from the other male, "'You're freaking sick. Being in trouble isn't any excuse for murder. Thanks for not covering your tracks here, though. We'll come visit you in jail.'" For a moment he stayed quiet, letting the words sink in. Whoever had sent this expected someone to react to it, and...what did they mean we'll see you in jail? That didn't sound like something you'd say to a ghoul, which meant...this was clearly meant for a human, Jackson or someone else who had lived here... Either way it was trouble. 


Kicking at the ground, Daryl finally decided to explain the rest of the note.  "It had some name scribbled out... Looked like it began with an N or something, then just R.I.P with a few hearts and shit." He sighed, "Someone fucking left this for you or one of your family members and it could get us in a lot of shit if they figure out where we are." At that point he'd moved towards Jackson, obviously worried for the other ghoul's safety, "I don't know who the dumbass is, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter if they inform the CCG of our whereabouts or some shit. Something's gotta be done." 

 

[yaint]

"Jail? What?" Jackson's chest tightened, and he stared down into his lap like he expected to see an answer. "That's... There's no way that's for us, Daryl, none of my family's ever killed a man - ex-except for me. My parents just... They just go to a goddamn Church homegroup every week and travel Europe the rest of the time. This can't be them. They haven't even been here since we al moved out."


It didn't make sense. None of it made sense, but then again, when he thought about the tone of those words - not how Daryl had read them, but how they must have looked - it somehow managed to become even more confusing. He didn't know anybody around Portsmouth anymore, let alone someone whose name began with N. How could he pick that out? How on Earth could he know who left this here and why?


Lost for clues, ideas or faith, Jackson took the paper back into his hold and buried his head in his hands. 


Why? he asked without daring to question out loud. Why did it have to be her? Tilly had never done a bad thing in her life, and now this. Jackson had tried so hard... Just to leave her behind so she wouldn't have to feel the sting of his mistakes. But he failed.


Again, and again, all he ever seemed to do was fail and it was other people who ended up doing all of his suffering for him. It wasn't fair. Just once, he prayed, let me take it instead of them. Let me die in their place.


Jackson didn't even realise the way he had been gasping for breath with a nose blocked by tears until he spoke again and the words came out hoarse. "I j-just... For God's sake, I just d-don't understand. Her... Of all people, I just..." He had to pause to wipe his eyes before he ended up folding over into the mess he had made. "When we get outside, Daryl, I don't want you to say one word about this until everyone else is asleep. Then... I want to give her a proper burial, okay? Th-that - that w-woman is my mother, I'm not leaving until she's at rest. We can do it tonight. And then, after we get back an-and we've got Adrian, I'm going to find who did this and I'm gonna kill them."

 

[Yoki]

Daryl grunted, it sure as hell wasn't addressed to a ghoul... How did they even find these people? Surely there had to be a reason she was left there with nothing but an ominous note to explain why, maybe he just wasn't clever enough to work it out, or maybe it really was just impossible. Saying he wasn't worried about whether or not they were being watched would be a lie, but...in the end there were so many of them, if they had to, they could defend themselves.


Besides, they had their guardian watching over them. Diana seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, it was hard to get anything past her, he'd just have to hope that she turned out to be more observant and intelligent than whoever the person who had left this body was.


"I didn't plan on doing so." He muttered when he heard Jackson mention that he didn't want this mentioned to anyone, "You think I wanna fucking freak 'em all out? We'd have a riot to deal with." Not one person was going to hear of this, not ever, "You don't tell anyone either, and I mean anyone." Sure, there were plenty of people in that house he trusted, but the less they knew about this the better. That way no one else had to worry but Daryl and Jackson. "We'll bury her in the dark. No one'll see..." Or so he hoped...


The man tilted his head back for a second, thinking about his previous statement... Tell no one... Except...it might be useful to tell one person. "I mean, there's the option of giving Diana the heads up and all." He turned to look at Jackson, then the corpse of his mother, for the first time a pang of guilt washed over Daryl...even though he'd done nothing wrong. "She seems to be the one watching over everything. If someone comes back it's better she knows what she's dealing with, init?" It was simply an option, they didn't have to tell her, but Daryl recommended doing so. She might be able to help out. 


"C'mon." Walking up to Jackson, he lifted the guy up without warning and dropped him back into his chair, "No need to see this right now..." Now, when he sighed up for this he knew it wasn't going to be easy...but he didn't expect...this of all things. It sure was an unexpected turn of events...he just hoped it didn't lead to catastrophe. 

 

[yaint]

***


He twisted his wrist clockwise and slid the rusted iron key out of its padlock. The shackle disconnected with a heavy click and freed the handle on the opposite side of the double doors. Nobody would have had a chance to come back all evening. There was only one key in the city, and it had spent several hours pocketed inside a pair of old pyjama bottoms which somehow still fitted Jackson's bony legs.


"You ready?" the whispered through the silence, even though he himself was anything but. Daryl would have to be the one to go down and retrieve the remains, but that sight, the sunken eyes filled with insects and the grey, rotting skin...  It was vile; no human being could be at rest like that. Tonight they were going to fix that. "Just... Be - be careful down there. I'm going to get another spade for you, so just, uh, be loud if you need me."

 

[Yoki]

"Ugh." Daryl muttered, shivering not out of cold but out of the idea of having to pick up that body down there, "I'm burning my fucking skin off after this." He muttered under his breath, that...was just a tad disrespectful after all. Still, who wouldn't be disgusted at the thought of having to carry a rotting corpse out of a basement and then dig a hole to bury it in. It didn't help that in the dark of the night he felt like he was being watched, it was probably just paranoia after having received that note, but...that didn't stop him from feeling it... Something was just...off. 


Without another word to Jackson he grabbed a door handle and pulled, before disappearing into the basement below. In the night it was even eerier than before, but he ignored it, heading to the exact spot he remembered the body to be. There he shined his torch, making sure he knew where he was going to grab the thing. He cringed just at the thought, there were maggot all over it...like it was healthy to pick that thing up... "Fuck my life..." He muttered bending down and grabbing at the fragile and rotting corpse. Honestly, you'd think after watching people being torn apart and eaten alive he wouldn't be so disgusted by a corpse, but that was a part of life...they had to eat to survive... This...was no. Besides...this person was rotting... It was honestly vile. 


As he picked up the corpse insects and dirt fell to the ground, and Daryl looking away. "Just forget it..." He muttered to himself, refusing to look at the body in his hands the whole time that he was in the basement. It was late at night, he could be sleeping, yet here he was burying a body for Jackson's sake... Why? He didn't even like the guy.


Once outside he'd immediately placed the body down and wiped himself off, taking a few steps back. "That's fucking awful..." He hissed, shaking his head, there was no way he was picking that up again... It was horrendous. No one else had to do this kind of shit, why him? 

 

[yaint]

"That's my mother," slipped out of Jackson's mouth snappily after hearing Daryl's complaints. He did not know why he said it; he had less than the confidence he needed to start arguments at this time of night, and he could not say he disagreed. It was awful. It was downright horrific. The thought made his skin crawl again, and without even noticing he was shaking like a leaf.


By this point, the man had returned from the shed at the end of the overgrown garden with a large spade laid out over his lap. He shoved it into Daryl's hand, picked the other one up from the wall with his bicycle and then returned to the curling, waist-length grass where he had begun to dig a hole.


Naturally, he had not made much progress. Making a hole deep enough to fit a person inside was a pain for anyone, but for Jackson it was near-impossible. Already he was bending over a little dent in the mud, scraping at the surface with his hands on the very end of his tool. The mud that sprayed up stuck to his pyjamas. He didn't notice the way there was cold, damp soil stuck to the skin of his bare feet.


"It... Uh, it doesn't need to be six foot if you can't make it," he reassured, still scratching at the soil, although the idea of an unconventional burial made him look uneasy. "Just make sure she's comfortable. And, uh, Daryl? Would... You wouldn't mind staying for the ceremony, right? It won't take long. A couple of minutes, maybe, I... Look, I just don't want her to be alone. But n-nevermind, we'll just focus on the digging, it doesn't matter."

 

[Yoki]

Instead of continuing to be disrespectful, Daryl decided to keep his mouth shut once Jackson said that that was his mother. Of course, that rotting corpse was once a person who meant a lot to someone else, but as a ghoul...he tended to forget that a lot of the time. After all, they had to kill people that meant an awful lot to someone all of the time. 


"Mnmph." Taking the spade, he started to dig as quickly as possible, but with only two of them, and Daryl doing most of the work, he already knew this was going to take awhile. Unfortunately, he didn't really have the energy to take to Jackson and dig at the same time, so none of the guy's questions were answer, but they stuck in Daryl's brain...and that was enough. He was going to stay out of respect and respect alone, no one wanted to be buried with no one there... It was...almost like no one cared, everyone needed to know that someone did. 


How long the hole took to dig he didn't know, but what he did know it by the time he threw his shovel to the ground he just wanted to go to bed. "There." The man muttered, moving over to the corpse again, hesitating to pick it up. It took at least thirty seconds before he finally decided to pick up the body and place it down into the hole, carefully of course. Once that was done he again dusted himself off and turned to Jackson, "I dunno what you wanna do, but...there you go..." 


This was strange to say the least, they were burying Jackson's dead mother in the back of the garden at their old family home after finding her and a strange note in the basement. It was honestly a sad situation, and must have been particularly hard for Jackson of all people, but...in the end he signed up for danger the second he ran away from the CCG...protecting Adrian. Daryl wondered if Jackson ever regretted his decision...he wondered if he ever wished he'd stayed. 

 

[yaint]

With the same thought running through his head like an electric current, Jackson could not tell quite for how long they had spent working in the garden. There was no point checking, no point conversing - if he stopped digging, he would start choking up, and he did not want to be seen that way in front of someone as rough and rowdy as Daryl.


Man up, Jackson told himself. Two pats on his own shoulder gave him the will to throw that shovel to one side and roll over to the edge of the grave where his mother now lay.


The first part was done. Now it was his turn to say the words that he had heard before but never imagined having to recite for himself. He couldn't get this wrong, not with Daryl watching, and not for Tilly.


Hands clasped together and head bowed in prayer, Jackson opened his mouth and the words found their way. "L-let us... Let us c-commend Mu- Matilda Lambert to the mercy of God," he began, and then a lump formed in his throat. No, not already, not now, when he had barely even started. It hurt, but this was important. He had to press on. "...A beautiful woman of charity, who - who graced us all with her warmth, and her k-kindness. We know not why she had left us or fr-from whence her  - from whence her passing came, but may the Lord ease her journey like our goodbyes never could."


As promised, the words went on for several minutes. Each sentence was worse stuttered, hoarser, with longer pauses between words. Jackson struggled to find his last graces in the time that they had before dawn. But still he pushed on into the twilight, his hands never parting and his head never raised.


"...F-for as much as it has p-p-pleased our - our heavenly Father in His wise providence to t-take unto Himself our... Our beloved Matilda, w-we there-therefore commit her - her b-body to the ground. Earth t-to earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to... D-dust to dust. Looking for - for the bl- hope and the glorious a-appearance of God in our savior, J-Jesus... Jesus Christ, who shall alter the - the body of our humiliation and f-fashion it anew in the, the, uh, likeness of His own - His own glory according to the w-w-orking of His mighty power wherewith He is able to - to subdue all of things unto Him-Himself."


The golden crucifix was still around Tilly's neck.


Jackson decided to let her keep it, so that she could take it with her. It wasn't just a little trinket of their faith; it was a symbol of the belief that would take her to a higher place. She would need that now, when her son - a murderer, fugitive, thief, vandal - had kept forgetting his words and saying the wrong things. But he could not call for a second chance. 


The deed was done, and Jackson could not breathe to say more. He could only sit there in the deathly silence, let his hands untwine and think as he thumbed the golden bullet on the chain around his neck.

 

[Yoki]

Daryl wasn't religious, never had been and never would be, but he had the respect to stay quiet and let Jackson go through with his little service to commemorate his dead mother. It was the only right thing to do. It was strange to listen to, having never been to a funeral or anything of the sorts before he wasn't really used to that sort of thing, but one thing really stuck out to him as Jackson spoke. 


Services seemed more for the living and the dead. By the sounds of what he was saying it was a lot of help her move on, she was amazing, she's in a better place, that sort of thing... The dead don't need to know that, the dead are dead, and whether you believe in a God or just nothing at all...they've already moved on, whatever faith you have, that body in the ground is just an empty shell... That person doesn't exist any more. 


People need reassurance, they need to know that despite death everything is okay... That's what services seemed to be about, assuring yourself that you could continue, assuring yourself that there's nothing to worry about, hammering that 'they may have left us, but they'll always live on through us' moto in your head. It helped people move on. It was an ending to the old, so that people could think about it less... 


Despite not really wanting to think about it, he did wish that they'd done something when his mother died...but it was expected, that was life. 


When Jackson finished, Daryl raised his head and sighed, the guy was exhausted, wasn't he? Maybe that was enough for tonight. 


"Go back inside." For once Daryl's voice was quiet and calm, he'd deal with this, Jackson needed sleep, and whilst he wasn't going to admit it...he did feel sorry for the guy. It hurt to lose family, he knew that.  "I'll do the rest." 

 

[yaint]

Jackson did not need to be told twice. He had done everything he could, everything he needed to do and more, and now every part of him ached and throbbed: his arms, his shoulders, his head, his heart. He could not do any more for his mother.


Leaving Daryl to his promise, the man with the dirt-rimmed spectacles dropped the bullet from his grasp and let it hang loose from his neck. He could sleep with the charm's good luck, he decided as he silently turned his back on the garden and headed for the lounge where he had made his makeshift bed.


***


"Daryl. Don't bother saying anything, j-just listen to me a second." Fingers tightened around the hard plastic shell of the phone he had taken from the house. His two helpers, Callum and Tommy-Jones, had gone missing from the immediate vicinity and it likely wouldn't take long for the owner of those boats to realise that their keys had gone missing. It had taken them all morning to retrieve them too, and being as exhausted as he was after last night, Jackson seriously did not want to miss his chance. He had lost his friends, his parents, and he would not lose his little brother as well. They needed to get moving if they wanted Adrian back. "I've got the keys and the rest of the stuff, but we need everyone gathered up ready for when we get back. C-contact - talk to everyone you can get hold of, make sure they're all at home. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

 

[Yoki]

"Yeah." Daryl muttered back, even after he was told not to bother saying anything, "Fine. Bella! Where's Dane?" There was noise from the other side of the phone as people waling around, murmuring and working.


"Dunno, maybe in the back." Bella called, obviously from a different room as her voice was quite quiet. 


"'Kay." With a sigh, Daryl had gone back to his conversation with Jackson, "Gonna go. See ya in a couple of hours." With that he put the phone down, leaving Jackson on the other end, unable to reply. 


---


"Claire." Lorn leaned the bike he was pulling along against a wall, "Yo, can you wait with this for a minute?" He put some of the bags down that he'd been carrying, before proceeding to put his hands in his pockets. The boy had stopped in an alleyway that had a low roof to the left side, he could look from up there. "Just...gotta do something..."


He didn't want for Claire response, instead jumping at the wall and grabbing a small brick that stuck out to his right side, from there he was able to climb up further and eventually pull himself onto the room. "You hungry?" He asked the girl down below, grinning as he hung his legs over the edge, "I sure am." It didn't seem like the teenager waited for anyone, as before Claire was even given the chance to reply he'd disappeared again. 

 

[yaint]

Claire ran her fingers along the cool, scratched metal bicycle frame decorated with the residue of old stickers. She had come outside that morning with her hair flowing neatly behind her. Now it was messy, strands flying in different directions and she did not care at all. 


"Yeah, I'm hungry. But why do I gotta wait?" the girl complained loudly. As much as she loved whizzing past the seafront with Lorn sat behind her, standing in a little alley on her own was a bore. It wasn't like she had not spent years doing it with Lee and Taylor. But that was okay; Lorn was younger than her, and that made her in charge as far as she was concerned. So Claire kicked at the bicycle to prop it in place, and within seconds she was atop the wall herself. "Hold up a sec, I'll come with, I will!"

 

[Yoki]

"Eh?" Lorn turned turned his head, eyes dancing, "Right." He didn't seem all that bothered that the girl was going to come with him, in fact if anything he seemed amused, "Let's be quick then, and don;t make too much noise. We'll get killed if the others find out." Although he said it, it really didn't sound like he cared. 


The boy dropped down off of the room and into another street, non nonchalantly walking out of a back alleyway. They had to find someone to pick off, someone who was easy enough to take down and get rid of quickly, so...someone...smaller, weaker. Maybe a female? They always tended to be shorter than the males...a small male would do too, he didn't really care as long as it was someone. "Yo," He turned his head back to see if Claire was still following, "Keep up."  

 

[yaint]

"I'm right here," the little Irish girl protested, although she was very much behind. Lorn liked to show off his climbing skills by being so clean and brisk, by the looks of things - it was a hard act to follow. Claire had never cared about looking sloppy, or if her denim dress caught the wind when she reached for a far-away foothold. Now she had competition.


A little yip of surprise from Claire caught the boy in front as she leapt ungracefully to the ground and did a little twirl as she rose from her knees to her feet. Luckily for her, she was wearing some good, stretchy clothes; a whole tracksuit in a stormy grey. "I'm keepin' up!" she announced finally as she came to Lorn's side. "So who you goin' for? We can take one each an' give half to Tom when we get back. I hunt too, see, the doves really hate my guts!"

 

[Yoki]

"They really hate you huh?" Lorn raised an eyebrow at Claire, before turning around and laughing to himself slightly, "Must be scary. They don't hate me here so much I don't think." His blue eyes scanned the streets as busy people scattered after coming out of small street shops, "Not yet anyways." 


After a few minutes of simply watching, and waiting to see whether Claire would become impatient, Lorn's eyes locked onto a smaller brunette girl who must have been in her early twenties. "How's about we take that one?" He motioned with his head to the woman, who now had their backs to them, "No need for two, we can get more if we wanna share. Need to get rid of it quickly right?" Without waiting for Claire reply, he pushed himself off of the wall he'd been leaning on to tail after his prey. 

 

[yaint]

"Hold on one little second!" Claire called after Lorn. As they so often did, her cheeks puffed out with a contained sigh of frustration which then deflated in the form of a grunt. She was supposed to be the one in charge here, and yet the kid here was taking the lead. Nevermind. She didn't have to complain here when her stomach was doing that for her, and she had waited for so long now that she would take any target.


That girl did look good. The younger ones were often the hardest to fight off, but they had the most muscle in them out of anyone else. This kind of choice would keep the hunger down for one, maybe two months.


 "Are we gonna follow her someone else?" she asked a bit too loudly as she mimicked Lorn's natural gait.