A/N: So I was bumming around for story ideas and I saw that several reviewers requested I continue chapters 12 and 13—specifically Amara Calla, who suggested a follow-up of Val and Skul seeing each other the next day (you may have to reread those chapters; I know I did). I decided to throw in a little romance and lots of awkward moments. Please enjoy! :)

Val: age 19

A white chrysanthemum is for truth, a pansy for loving thoughts…

Valkyrie couldn't sleep that night, but for once it wasn't because of a nightmare. A thought was gnawing at her, a nameless face, a question that needed an answer.

After an hour of trying and failing to go to sleep, she kicked off the comforter, swung her legs over the side of her bed, and sat up. Tapping her chin thoughtfully, she pondered her options. Really, it wasn't a question of if she would go, but when. Now was as good a time as any; it wasn't like he needed sleep.

Looking in her closet, she decided to forgo the gleaming outfit Ghastly had made for her and settled on a simple pair of black jeans and a purple blouse. Tugging a brush through her hair and slipping into a jacket, she gazed into her mirror and gently touched her fingertips to her mouth. Then she shook her head. She could be sentimental after she confronted him.

The cool breeze whipped her hair around her face as she hopped out the window and leaped off the roof. Zipping her jacket up to her throat, Valkyrie took off running. She could feel the piece of plastic in her pocket banging against her stomach and the small piece of metal digging into her palm as she sprinted down the sidewalk.

It took Valkyrie twenty minutes to run across town and find the building smashed between the two funeral parlors. As she paused to catch her breath, she saw his windows were yellow squares framed in the black rectangle of the apartment building.

She took the stairs two at a time, her heart thumping as heavily as her shoes on the concrete, and tried to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. She hadn't thought about what she was going to say or how she was going to say it. What was she going to say?

And then she was standing in front of the door, her heart pounding in her ears, and brought her hand forward three times. Thump, thump, thump.

As she waited, she started to panic. Her heart was beating so hard against her chest she was afraid it was going to go rocketing out of her chest any second. What if he didn't answer? What if he did? What the hell was she doing here anyway?

The door swung open and Skulduggery stood there, staring at her. "Valkyrie?" he asked, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"

It was like she was twelve all over again and her brain couldn't decide which of the dozens of questions to ask first. She settled for, "Where's your tie?"

Skulduggery tilted his head and if he had eyebrows, they would've been raised. "I took it off. I do that sometimes, you know."

"Right." She bit her lip anxiously. "Um, China told me you were in America."

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I was," he replied simply. They stood there in awkward silence before he finally asked, "Would you like to come in?"

Nodding, Valkyrie stepped through the doorway into his apartment. Closing the door

Skulduggery turned to face her, shoving his hands into his pockets as she twirled a wisp of hair around her finger.

"Did you need something?" he asked, leaning against the wall.

"I met someone," she blurted out, squeezing the little blob of gold in her fist.

He tilted his head. "Oh?"

"At China's Halloween party."

Pushing himself off the wall, he walked around her and headed toward one of the many armchairs scattered around the room. "Ah," he murmured.

Not about to be dismissed, Valkyrie followed and sat in the chair across from him. "Maybe you know him," she said, trying to be nonchalant. "He was tall, about your height actually, with brown hair and deep blue eyes. They were about this color." Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a navy-blue mask with black ribbons and set it on the coffee table between them.

Skulduggery's head dipped downward and she assumed he was staring at it. "He knew my name," she continued softly, "but he didn't tell me his. I have an idea about who he is, but I was hoping you could help me identify him." And she gently placed the engraved cufflink on the table beside the mask.

He didn't say anything for several minutes and the only sound was Valkyrie's steady breathing. Finally, he sighed. "I wondered where I'd put that," he said.

That was all the confirmation she needed. "How did you do it?" she asked suddenly. "You looked so—"

"Alive?" he interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. "China helped me. There's no better disguise than to go as yourself."

She squinted at him. "So that was you? Before… before you…"

"You can say it, Valkyrie," he said blithely. "Before I died, yes, back when I had a face and a beating heart." He turned his head and looked across the room. "Of course, the spell was merely an elaborate costume. If you were paying attention, you would've noticed that I had no breath and no heartbeat. "

She hadn't been paying attention. She had been too distracted by the dancing and him calling her beautiful and… other things to notice.

Silence descended upon them again. Then he quietly asked, "What did you think?"

She frowned in confusion. "Of what? Oh! Of your appearance?" A pink blush began to glow in her cheeks. "I thought you were… quite handsome, actually."

"Really?" She nodded, embarrassed. "You looked nice too," he added hurriedly.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she giggled. "You told me so. That's when you slipped up."

"I did?"

"You said my name, remember?" She smiled, recalling the moment again. "You said, 'You look beautiful tonight, Valkyrie.'"

He nodded. "I remember."

Now their silence was almost companionable—except for the one unspoken moment hovering between them. Valkyrie licked her lips and folded her hands as Skulduggery fiddled with his cufflinks.

Finally, Valkyrie couldn't take it anymore. She had to know. "Why did you kiss me?" she whispered, leaning forward as her entire face turned red.

"Was it bad?" he asked suddenly, his fingers frozen to his sleeve.

"No, not at all!" she said quickly, shaking her head as her blush deepened. "It was nice, actually."

He slumped in relief.

"I wasn't bad, was I?" she asked timidly, twisting her hair in her hands anxiously.

Chuckling softly, he reached forward and ruffled her bangs. "No, you weren't," he said, his smile widening.

"So, why did you do it?"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter, Valkyrie. It won't change anything."

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to stand up and scream and stomp around like she was four years old. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he gave her an answer.

And when she felt the tears begin to roll down her cheeks, she first thought they were tears of anger. That is, until she realized that all she felt was despair.

"Please don't cry," Skulduggery whispered, gently brushing away her tears with his fingertips. "I'm sorry, Valkyrie."

But somehow she knew. She could feel it in his kind, apologetic touch with the ever so slightly shaking fingers. She could feel it in his gaze as he seemed to focus on her and only her. She felt it when he kissed her. And she knew what he meant.

"It's okay," she murmured, clasping his hand to her cheek. "Don't be sorry, Skulduggery."

He paused. "Why?"

Closing her eyes and leaning into his palm, she smiled dreamily. "Because I'm glad."

"You know I'm right, don't you?"

"I know. But that doesn't mean I can't be happy, right?"

"This doesn't change anything."

"Will you shut up and let me enjoy my moment?"

"Sorry." He hesitated. "I don't have to say it, do I?"

"No." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "I figured it out."

"Is it that obvious?"

"A little."

"Damn."

She laughed. "If it wasn't, I would've made you say it."

"Well, I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies."

They drifted into silence, but Valkyrie didn't mind. She pulled his hand from her cheek and held it in her lap. Glancing up to gauge his reaction, she slid her hand down to lace her fingers with his and squeezed, and after a moment he squeezed back. Lifting her head, she met his gaze and smiled again.

Turning her head, Valkyrie spied the clock on the wall and started to rise. "I should probably go home."

He rose with her, but didn't release her hand. "Yes, you probably should."

"You'll call me tomorrow, right?"

"Of course."

"Okay then." He was still holding her hand. "Goodnight, Skulduggery."

"Goodnight, Valkyrie." And he finally dropped her hand.

She didn't move toward the door, however. She hesitated, her hand feeling decidedly bereft and empty. Suddenly, on a whim, she jumped forward and threw her arms around his neck, jerking him into an embrace. He started to say something, maybe a protest, but she buried her nose in his shoulder and he stopped.

"Thank you," she said, inhaling deeply.

"For what?"

"For kissing me."

Skulduggery tilted his head. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Just because."

"Because why?"

"Don't ruin it, Skulduggery."

He brought his arms up and placed them on her waist before hugging her closer. "Okay."