[[A looong overdue RanHen request for Noe-Izumi on Deviantart.

Set: An AU oneshot- think The Sixth Sense- set during the MM flashbacks after Randall... ya know. Spoilers for MM.]]

Living with a Ghost

Henry Ledore could see the dead.

Many in Stansbury considered him... Different? Unnerving? Odd? People were agitated by his cold gaze, by the way he would seemingly mutter to himself, and generally gave him a wide-berth. This suited Henry fine. He could go about his chores without others disturbing him, none the wiser of his supernatural encounters.

The first spirit he saw was his mother's. She had been a maid working for the Ascots, but died before Henry was old enough to remember her. So, he was very shocked to find her floating through the halls of Ascot Manor one night. She introduced herself, asked him not to be afraid, and proceeded to explain the 'gift' he had inherited.

From then on, Henry received all sorts of ghostly visitors. An ancient queen wishing to be reborn, a stubborn duke stricken down by some disease, an old crone obsessed with puzzles, an unfortunate street urchin, a lady pining for her lost sons, unable (or refusing) to depart until she'd said goodbye to them...

There was only a single living person he had ever shared his secret with; his best friend and young master, Randall Ascot. It was back when they were ten years old, sometime after Randall had given him his cherished toy robot. Randall didn't recoil or laugh. He was amazed, particularly when Henry discussed his meeting with a deceased archaeologist, Donald Rutledge.

Randall was vocal about many subjects, but never Henry's secret. Not even to his parents, Angela, Dalston, or Hershel Layton. The most Randall did was assure Angela that her brother was still alive, somewhere. (At least, Henry had never seen him.)

It was a huge relief that Henry had someone to talk to. If not for Randall, he would have gone insane over the years of dealing with his 'gift'...

Then, at only seventeen, Randall Ascot died. Henry didn't want to— couldn't— believe it. Layton claimed Randall had fallen into a deep ravine. There was no sign of a body, so nothing was for certain. Henry could spend his entire life combing Akbadain until he discovered Randall's fate.

But how could Henry deny the truth, with Randall's ghost stood here before him?

The boy who had once been so full of life was now as faded as an old cotton sheet. The sunlight streaming into Randall's room/shrine went right through him. He was missing his glasses and his left shoe. His hair was more grey than ginger, his dark eyes were empty, and the paleness of his skin accented the— the bruises he had collected.

Take away those aspects and it would almost be like Randall had just raced home from school. Like he wasn't... like he wasn't really...

Henry jammed the heels of his hands into eyes. He cried, "M-Master Randall, you can't be d-dead!"

"Sorry, Henry..." Randall winced; his voice little more than an echo. "I... I think I am. Hershel couldn't pull me up— I fell a long way down and hit something hard. Probably the ground."

Henry gasped, "Stop describing it, please! This wasn't supposed to happen. You promised Miss Angela you would return. You promised ME!"

"And I have returned," Randall was caught between laughter and a sob. He flung his arms out and spun around the bedroom. (No— flew!) "I'm here, aren't I? At least you can see me and we can still chat."

Henry hiccupped, "I guess that's something... And I can make everyone else believe in you."

Randall shook his head sternly. "No, Henry. You'll ruin your life doing that. My parents will send you away, and then we definitely won't see each other again." His face sank. "Dad probably won't miss me. Heck, he's always been fond of you— you could take over the family business in my place! Just swear you'll look after him and Mum."

"I swear," Henry vowed with his hand over his heart. "What about Miss Angela?"

"I never got the chance to propose to her..." Randall said in broken whisper. He sighed, "I-It's too late now. I don't want her to worry about me forever. She needs to move on— you all do."

"Layton has no doubts about moving on," Henry muttered.

His ghostly friend frowned. "Don't blame Hershel. Sure, I always told him he could've used a little more arm muscle, but it was my idea to explore the ruins—"

Henry quickly changed the subject, "I'll also continue your research for you, though I won't take any credit."

"If that's what will make you happy," Randall forced an evil grin. "Meanwhile, I'll be up here haunting Ascot Manor like, um, a poltergeist or whatever you call it. You need to invite Dalston over so I can prank him!" (Even Dalston was going to miss him...)

"Whenever things go bump in the night, I'll know where to look," Henry smiled. He added, "A-and even if I'm not here, my mother's ghost still dwells at the manor from time to time. You'll never be utterly alone."

"Neither will you," Randall assured him.

Henry dried the last of his tears for today. His wonderful gift allowed him to keep in contact with Randall, which was more than some could ever ask for. Even beyond the grave, their bond would endure. And if the time ever arrived for Randall to move on, Henry would keep his memory alive.

Life would go on.