Rating: Rated T for dark themes.

Disclaimer: I own none of the locations or characters depicted here.

A/N: Due to the source material and the backstories of the major characters, suicide will be touched upon, specifically death by hanging. While the event itself will not be depicted, if this is a major trigger for you I would suggest not reading this story.

~ 1968 ~

The staff arrived first.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing through the night and shaking the windows of the old mansion. Most were dark and served only as empty, yawning voids into the upper floors. The sole exception came from the faint flicker of candlelight in a room at the back of the house. Another crack of lightning briefly set the glass panes glittering like diamonds.

On the back porch, a number of blue wisps materialized and coalesced into human forms. Despite the now-assembled men and women being of varying shapes and sizes, they all possessed the same gaunt looks and sunken eyes. The spirits of the deceased. Most were dressed in servant's attire: black and green and purple. One woman adjusted the lacy cap perched atop her head. A few of the ghosts clutched near-transparent bits of luggage in their hands. For a minute or two they stood in silence. Then the whispers began. Idle chatter, questions, muffled giggles. The longer they waited, the more restless they became.

A hush fell over the crowd again as the double doors before them finally swung inward. One by one, they filed through the doorway and into the house, until a lone figure remained on the porch.

The woman was tiny, standing just over two feet tall. The long, shimmering cloak she wore floated around her despite the absence of any breeze. A bouquet of miniature calla lilies rested in the crook of her arm. She looked up at the open double doors standing tall above her with sharp blue eyes.

How she'd come to this place was a mystery. She wasn't even entirely sure who she was. All she knew was a face – her face, she assumed – and a name. Leota. Everything else was little more than an odd, hazy blur. Despite her lack of any sort of real answers, this old mansion felt like the right place to be. A three-story plantation house with an eerie sort of stillness and a smattering of shattered windowpanes. It had an aura of the decidedly foreboding about it that resonated well with her.

Following the others, the tiny spirit floated through the open doorway. She lowered her hood the moment she crossed the threshold, revealing a braided knot of pale hair at the back of her skull, and surveyed the room.

The crowd of ghostly servants now stood at one end of what appeared to be some sort of main hall. To her left was a large fireplace, which was empty and cold at the moment. The only source of light in the room came from a lonely candelabra at the end of the banister directly to her right. Its sputtering amber flame cast a dim glow across its surroundings. Tattered curtains covered the windows and shadows crept up the walls. Nearby was a long, wooden table whose sole covering was a yellowed tablecloth. At the far wall a massive pipe organ sat covered in a veil of dusty cobwebs. She caught a glimpse of a shadowy balcony directly across the room from them, looming above the floor below. It was all grand, if a bit derelict.

The door banged shut behind them and green flames erupted in the hearth. Floating up onto the banister, the tiny spirit tried to get a better view of what was happening over the heads of the misty crowd.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Haunted Mansion," an echoing, baritone voice said from somewhere in the shadows. The speaker did not materialize.

"Real original name," one of the spirits muttered to his neighbor.

Although the voice didn't reply, the flames in the fireplace gave a harsh shudder. A chill filled the air that even the assembled spirits could feel. The ghost who'd spoken went quiet, shrinking in on himself.

"Now, onto business," the voice said, as if there had been no interruption at all. "This mansion is to serve as a retreat for famous ghosts, ghosts attempting to make a name for themselves… and ghosts afraid to live by themselves."

A few chuckles went up from the crowd.

"I am the majordomo of the house and, as you may have already surmised, you are to be its skeleton crew. Potential inhabitants are currently sending in applications to reserve their leases and several of the mansion's former owners are already in residence. Until the rest of the spirits arrive, our job is to make this house as unlivable as possible. Understood?"

There were nods and murmurs of acknowledgment all around in response. Once they quieted again, the voice went on, "Each of your posts have already been assigned. When I call your name, step forward."

One by one, he called the spirits. The assembled groups were then given directions as to where they should go in the mansion to await further instruction. They left in their clusters, passing through the doorway beneath the balcony and fading into the darkness, until only the tiny woman remained.

"And here we are," the voice said to her. He became louder, as if the speaker were approaching. "The last, but certainly not the least. Except in stature, perhaps. There was no name listed for you."

The spirit drew herself up to her full, admittedly small height before she spoke.

"Leota. My name is Leota."

"Another Leota," he mused. She felt his gaze upon her and she imagined he was looking her over. "A little Leota. I do see the resemblance."

She frowned. Another Leota, he'd said. There was another spirit named Leota already in the house? That was… disconcerting. She didn't have much time to dwell on this new information before the voice addressed her once again.

"Your assignment is to be my counterpart and lead ghost'ess. This means you will effectively be in charge of much of the welfare of our residents here at the mansion… as well as all of the paperwork that comes with them."

If this latest bit of news was meant to elicit some sort of response from her, it failed. The woman remained silent for a few moments as she considered what the voice had just told her.

"I understand," she finally replied with a sharp nod. "And what should I call you? You do have a name, don't you?"

"No, I do not. I am merely the Host. The Ghost Host, if you will."

Her lips curled up into a wry smile. "G, then."

"Very well, L." In a whisper, he added, "Two can play at this game."

Touché.

"Now, come. There is much to show you and I would hate for you to get lost in this place." His voice faded toward the doorway. L took a step off the banister and into the empty air. With her cloak billowing around her, she floated after him.

The corridors of the Mansion were far darker than the Great Hall had been. All of the candelabras they passed were out. Here the only light came from her misty aura, which cast a faint blue glow on the peeling wallpaper as she floated by. To either side were rows and rows of wooden doors. The Host stopped at none of them.

"Many of these are rooms for the future residents," he explained. "As such, most of them are empty at the moment."

"Except for those already occupied by the Mansion's previous owners," L guessed.

A low chuckle echoed through the hall. "Indeed. There aren't many of them, of course. The Widow, for example, keeps to herself, which is probably best for everyone. The Madame, on the other hand, I'm sure will be dying to meet you. She and the others are far more sociable."

"You need no introductions, yet you speak as if you aren't one of them. What are you, then?"

"Suffice it to say that I am a fixture of the house and have been for some time. Here we are." At his words, there was a knock on one of the nearby doors. L could only assume he was the one responsible.

A moment later, a muffled woman's voice replied, "Enter."

The door swung open and L peered around the door-frame to get a look at the room beyond.

It was circular in shape and mostly bare of furnishings. Shadowy curtains lined the walls, broken only by a second doorway at the other side of the chamber. In the dead center was a table covered with a fringed cloth. Bowls of flickering candles, an illuminated parchment, and a large crystal ball rested upon it. The raven perched on the back of the nearby chair cawed at the intrusion and ruffled its wings.

At the sight of it, her invisible companion muttered, "What is that confounded bird doing here?"

The mist inside the crystal ball swirled around as he spoke, revealing itself not to be mist at all, but the curling white hair of a woman's head. She watched the doorway where they waited with a haughty gaze.

"He's not hurting anything," she told him.

"He never is," G said with a sigh. Something silver flashed through the air and his voice boomed, "OUT!"

With a flurry of black feathers and an indignant squawk, the raven took flight, disappearing out the door and down the hall. The head tsked loudly and rolled her eyes.

"Is it so wrong for a lonely woman to want some company?" she asked.

"Only if it's that bird. He causes disaster wherever he goes."

She shook her head back and forth, causing her hair to swirl violently again. "Ah, well. What is it that you needed?"

"I have a curiosity for you today, Madame. Our newly-arrived Ghost'ess… also named Leota."

"Is she really?" the head asked with a laugh. "Come closer, my dear. Let me get a look at you."

L floated through the doorway and landed on the edge of the table. The head inside the crystal ball turned in her direction. Up close, looking at the woman was like staring into some sort of strange mirror. The face, with her sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes, looked almost identical to her own. The other Leota raised her already arched eyebrows.

"Well, isn't this an interesting development? The face is the same, but there's still a body attached. And one wonders why you would be so small… Regardless, welcome to our Mansion."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Madame," L said. Cradling her bouquet in one arm and using her free hand to sweep her skirts aside, she gave her a curtsy. The woman laughed again.

"And so polite, too. Perhaps you'll give this ghost a run for his money."

"I wouldn't bet too much on that," G replied smoothly. That only seemed to amuse the other Leota more.

"I suppose your arrival means I should expect plenty of others to follow not far behind. Ah well. Between the two of you, I hope you'll manage to keep this old house standing."

L gave her another curtsy and said, "Very well, Madame."

She stepped off the table, back into the air, and floated back through the doorway. The door creaked shut behind her once more.

Leaving Madame Leota's chambers behind, G led the way through the rest of the Mansion. They passed the balcony overlooking the main hall and went through a library, a conservatory filled with dying plants, and a tall octagonal gallery. A single portrait hung on the wall of this chamber depicting an elderly woman seated primly atop a gravestone. In her hands she held a red rose. L thought that this must be a depiction of the previous owner G had referred to as "The Widow."

Once they reached the foyer, she noticed the muffled yellow of sunlight coming in through the old lace curtains. Was it day already? She hadn't thought the tour had gone on that long. Before they could reach the double-doors, G seemed to turn back, looping toward the room from which they had entered.

"No overview of the grounds?" L asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not this portion. Unfortunately, this is the one part of the estate you will have to explore on your own. I cannot set foot outside those doors."

After taking one last look toward the doors and making a mental note to do this for herself, she followed him back out of the foyer again.

They finally arrived at a set of rooms tucked away in a hidden area on the bottom floor of the house: the servants' wing. L could hear some of the others talking quietly to each other from somewhere nearby. Apparently they were already settling in.

One of the doors to her left opened. A candle flickered to life inside, revealing a cramped office. The sole piece of furniture was a desk, barely visible beneath the mountains of paper stacked up toward the ceiling overhead. She noticed that the candle was carefully placed as far from the teetering stacks as was possible in the small space.

"This is technically our shared workspace, but I feel you will have more use of this space than I," G explained. "The first bit of business that needs attending to is sorting through the resumés various spirits have sent in for the past few years to determine which of them are fit to be residents of this Mansion. Including the staff, there's enough room for one thousand ghosts in this mansion."

L eyed the stacks with apprehension. There had to be at least twenty times that number represented there, if not more. "That's not a small amount of resumés to sort through."

"Then you'd best get started, hmm?"

~ 1969 ~

L hovered over the page, hands on her hips, as she read over one of the resumés. It was for a young lady — a former ballerina, it seemed — who met an early demise in an incident involving a tightrope and an alligator. From what could be made out in the writing, she seemed to be a flighty thing, but relatively innocuous. Not likely to cause them too much trouble. L flicked her wrist, sending the page fluttering onto the Accepted pile, before moving onto the one beneath it. She pursed her lips as she looked it over as well.

"How goes the hunt?" G asked in her ear.

She didn't even glance up from the page as she said, "I added several more promising haunts to the pile. At least two different duchesses looked promising, as well as an entire band. Then there's Caesar."

"The Julius Caesar?" G asked with an air of disbelief.

"Apparently. I didn't think you would object to putting him on the list."

"Of course not." She realized he'd begun reading over her shoulder when he said, "Captain Gore. Pirate. He would be fitting, what with the ship weathervane atop the Mansion."

"Not fitting enough." L flipped the Captain's application over onto the Rejected pile.

"Any particular reason why?" he inquired.

"We already have one death by hanging in this house. I don't believe there needs to be any sort of competition." By that point she knew what was hidden away in the cupola over the portrait gallery. When G remained silent, she decided to change the subject. "How are the arriving Haunts settling in?"

"Well enough, for the most part. The Ambassador has his room in order, and his portrait is already hanging in the main gallery. On the other hand, we've had to keep an eye on the resident we moved into the conservatory."

"The physical one with the coffin?"

"One and the same." G sighed and told her, "He keeps trying to get out and generally making a nuisance of himself."

"Nothing to be done about it at this point. Perhaps if we get him some more flowers, he'll calm down a little."

"I doubt it."

"We should still try. The last thing we need with this many residents is for all of the spirits to be restless. A handful are manageable, as long as they're kept in check. Hence the flowers."

She hadn't called, but the door to the office opened nevertheless, revealing a gilded candelabrum hovering on the other side. Similar to G, the spirit who held it preferred not to visibly manifest. Unlike him, however, it remained voiceless as well, leaving the only sign of its presence as the flickering candles. Not long after L had arrived, the silent ghost became an assistant of sorts to her.

"Could you get our guest in the conservatory another wreath with our regards?" she asked.

The candelabrum bobbed, causing the flames to shudder, before it disappeared out into the hall again. The door closed behind it. Once it was gone, L rose up from the desk and let her bouquet reappear in the crook of her arm.

"A couple more of the accepted residents are set to arrive any moment now, if I recall correctly. What sort of hosts would we be if we weren't there to greet them?"

"Precisely." The office door creaked open again and G said, "After you."

L nodded at an approximation of where she expected him to be before floating out into the hall. Outside the office, the Mansion was far livelier than it had been the night she arrived. By this point, roughly a third of their projected thousand residents had moved into the building, and it showed. Distant screeches and laughter echoed through the corridors. The candles along the walls flickered. The whispering, misty blue forms of other spirits passed by, heading in the opposite direction.

In the foyer, the windows were dark beyond their lace curtains. L had since become accustomed to the way the front of the Mansion seemed to cycle through day and night as normal, but the rest remained eternally dark. It meant that she, along with the rest of the staff and residents, tended to avoid this room and its occasional tendency toward brightness. She stopped in the dead center of the room, hovering in the air as she waited. Moments later, a pair of servants appeared, heading for the entry doors. They opened the doors to reveal a lone spirit on the threshold.

He stood hunched, leaning on a cane. A cape was slung over the shoulders of his suit, and a top hat was perched atop where his head should have been. Instead, there was a dark, yawning void. In his other hand, he gripped the handle of a hatbox. From within, L made out his glowing visage. She remembered him from his application: death by decapitation. Unfortunate.

The ghost shuffled through the doorway and into the foyer. L felt G brush past her to meet him.

"Welcome, good sir, to the Haunted Mansion."

The Host then launched into the same introduction that she had heard literally hundreds of times over the past few months. He hadn't made it far before the misty form of a second ghost appeared on the doorstep. It was a woman this time, dressed in a simple wedding dress complete with veil. Her face was gaunt and withered, nearly to the point of being skeletal. A brilliant red glow pulsed in her chest and the rhythmic thumping of a heartbeat echoed through the room.

As she floated into the foyer to join the others already present, her gaze turned upon the other new arrival. Her already thin lips pursed. His head disappeared from the hatbox and rematerialized on his shoulders so he could glare at the ghostly bride. L's eyes flicked back and forth between the two new Haunts. She snapped her fingers. A second later the candelabrum appeared at her side, along with a paper. On it was a list of the residents and their assigned quarters. L scanned the names until she reached the ones she searched for.

"Oh dear," she whispered, pressing her fingers against her mouth. The paper was whisked away and the room's light dimmed as the candelabrum left once more.

Turning her attention back on the scene in front of her, she saw that G had continued on with his introduction. His tone had not changed, and he never broke his stride. She recognized the place he'd reached in his speech as nearly the part where she should step in as well. When he paused, and both the headless haunt and the ghostly bride looked her way, L put on her best smile to address them.

"Now, these spirits will lead you to your new quarters within our Mansion," she told them, gesturing to the pair of staff members waiting nearby for their cue. "If there is anything we can do to make your stay more unlivable, please do not hesitate to let us know."

L watched them as they passed through the door leading into the portrait gallery and vanished, a frown tugging at her mouth. This was not at all what she had intended. She hadn't wanted to reexamine the other applications, but it appeared she would need to if they wanted to avoid another mix-up like this one.

"A telltale heart," G said, sounding as if he were now beside her again. "Please tell me they're being housed on opposite ends of the Mansion."

"They're both marked for the attic space."

He let out a chuckle and she aimed a dark look in his direction that did little to silence him.

"You realize that this is exactly the sort of situation involving 'restless spirits' I mentioned just now," she reminded him. "We don't need a couple that parted on decidedly bad terms trapped in a confined space for the foreseeable future. It will be disaster if they disturb the rest of the Haunts."

"We still have time to deal with the pair of them," G said, not sounding nearly as concerned as she would have liked.

"Before what? The rest of the residents arrive?"

"That, yes… and before the tours begin."

"What tours?"

"As part of the agreement that allowed us all to continue to occupy this house in the first place, we are required to hold tours of the building for mortal guests."

She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and said, "I hope that was a joke."

"Unfortunately, it isn't. I will be the one responsible for giving them said tours," he told her quickly, staving off any interjection L may have had. "Your only job is to show them the door on the way out, and perhaps to suggest that they may want to apply once they themselves are deceased."

That was something, she supposed. Already attempting to formulate a plan, she asked him, "Well, how many of these 'tours' are required each day?"

"Dozens, at the very least. Possibly more. There was no exact number given."

L thought that, if she was capable of fainting, she just might have at that moment. Dozens of tours full of mortal guests traipsing through the Mansion every day? Even if G could keep them contained, there was no way to know in advance the sort of effect that would have on the residents. Still, it didn't seem as if they had any other option. Not if it was a condition of the Mansion as a ghostly retreat in the first place. They would find a way to make all of this work. They couldn't afford the alternative.