Author's Note for people reading After the World Stopped Turning: So . . . this isn't the story I planned to update over the summer. The other story probably won't be updated for a while and I didn't want to post an explanation only to have everyone think it was a chapter and be disappointed. Instead, I wrote this. It's one of my "in which nothing much happens but there is a lot of significant dialogue between strangers" stories, but I meant well. Consider it my apology story.

Where have I been?: School. That part you already knew, and I will take a moment to say that college is a fuckton of work (official unit of measurement in college) and also a lot of fun. School was fun. I also have a summer job. This too is fun. Now for the not-fun part. My childhood pet died in the fall, my dad died in the spring (I hate cancer). I missed a bit of school and I'm making it up over the summer. Busy frosh. Bitter frosh. I wrote my other story during a golden summer, and after this past year, my muse decided that it has been through enough keeping me working through the year. It can't possibly work in these conditions and diva tantrum. It's on holiday. I'll write again when I lost someone significantly less recently than Noll. You all come here to read about his spiral into destruction and eventual redemption, not mine.

It's been a really long author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, and favorite my stories while I was at school. I may not respond to the vast majority of reviews, but I read every single one, and they always make my day. You're the best!

Warnings: Contemplated suicide, murder, and swearing (mostly in the author's note). I suppose I should add, an OC who plays a major role, but is not in any way added to the overall plot of Ghost Hunt. Also, while this character, like most of my characters, draws some traits from me, she's not me at all. Yay fiction.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

In a Moonlit Graveyard

Sunset fell on the graveyard, and the long shadows of tombs bled into the darkening night. Soon after, the most daring of the stars made their appearance. Their more timid brethren followed, inspired by the audacity of the orange moon that hung low on the horizon. The moon called out to the trees' shadows, and they once again crept out across the dry autumn grass.

Noll shivered at the unexpected chill in the air. The promise of winter bit through his thin jumper, and Noll was once again surprised that seasons changed in the absence of Gene and Mai. Without them, it seemed to him, time should not continue.

Noll was glad, however, that time passed without Lin. Lin was supposed to investigate the haunted graveyard in the morning, but Noll was 19, too old for his guardian to dress him up in a warm coat and protect him from the world.

The cold wind blew again and something stirred in its wake.

"Amy Jenson?" Noll called softly, hoping to reach the girl whose spirit he had been hired to put to rest.

A girl did appear, but she was not the sun-kissed blonde from the Jensons' photograph. She was pale, with dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes blending into the night around her. She was a creature more like Noll himself than the missing girl.

"Are you aware that you died?" Noll tried again. He winced slightly at the grating, unfeeling sound of his own voice. It echoed like a slap in the stillness.

"Are you aware that you're alive?" the girl asked drolly. Her voice was much higher than Noll's and it pierced cleanly through the silence, leaving a neat hole behind.

Noll stared stonily back at her.

"Is that how you begin all conversations?" the girl continued on, unfazed. "You don't get invited to many parties, do you? You don't seem like you'd be much fun, even if you figured out that you're alive."

"I'm more aware of my present state than you seem to be of yours," he retorted snidely. He only felt mild guilt at playing the "So what? You're dead" card with a ghost.

"Really?" the girl asked, and there was deadly intent in her airy tone. "I believe that you know your heart beats, that you feel the need to breathe, that your brain works, and by medical standards, that means you are alive."

"It's very civilized or you to concede my point," Noll answered lightly.

"How long has it been since you slept well?" the girl demanded, an apparent non sequitur.

"I don't ask ghosts for health tips," Noll said, "and it is unnecessary for you to offer them."

"What do you ask ghosts for?" the girl asked curiously. "Do you talk to ghosts often?"

Noll turned away.

The air felt heavy all of a sudden. It had slowly been getting thicker as the girl talked, and Noll realized that it was too much. Lifting it, himself, and the weight of all of his memories felt like more effort than his fragmented spirit could bear.

He'd been lonely without Gene, even with Mai there. With Mai back in Japan, everything seemed pointless. He'd play the "Let's Smile and Pretend Everything's Great" game for his parents, alternating with the "I am Willing to Talk about my Feelings" game. He'd play the "Work is Everything" game for Lin, Madoka, and the others at the office. He was tired though. He was tired of subsisting on pride alone, he was tired of pretending that this was living, and he was tired of talking to the wrong bloody ghost.

"I'm a psychic researcher," Noll said calmly. "I talk to ghosts as much as is necessary to complete my work."

"Does that mean you're psychic and you do research or that you research psychics?" came the inquisitive reply.

"It means," Noll answered with icy politeness, "that I am here to do a job. A sixteen year old girl was murdered by her boyfriend. He was drunk, he was jealous, and he slit her throat. Now her spirit haunts her grave, and I am here to give her peace and conduct my research. I am not here to listen to the idle chatter of a bored, American ghost."

The following silence added to the chill in the air.

Then, finally, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The girl's voice was resigned and quiet. This game was finished.

Noll considered her offer.

"Since it would be difficult for you to operate the camera in your incorporeal state, you can help me by praying beside her grave. That has caused her appearance before, according to the case file."

The girl turned away, quietly shifting until Noll had to turn to look at her.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I don't know any prayers," she admitted. "Atheist. Does denomination matter, or can I just wish for her to find peace?"

"That should suffice."

They set about their respective tasks, and soon the temperature began to drop – the literal phenomenon associated with apparitions rather than the figurative cold left by the conversation of strangers in a moonlit graveyard.

Noll waited with bated breath to see if this time the right spirit would appear. A thin mist blew through the graveyard, and out of it, a lanky teenager solidified. The new ghost's face turned sadly towards the praying girl.

"Amanda Jenson?" Noll said, though he recognized her from her photograph. She looked exactly the same, except for the line of blood that ran down her throat and stained the fabric over her heart.

"You're not him," she said sadly.

"Amanda Jenson," Noll said, "are you aware that you are dead?"

"He killed me!" she said in surprise, and then, "He never came."

"It seems she expected her boyfriend to visit her grave. Obviously he can't, since he's been arrested, but that should easily be solved by my colleague," Noll explained for the sake of the first girl.

Since she had done so well, he even left off the condescension that would normally have accompanied the lecture. He was proud of his mystery-ghost.

She was unimpressed by the gesture.

"Why did you want him to come?" she asked, compassion making her voice soft. "He hurt you."

"He loved me," Amanda said. "He was my first boyfriend, and he said we'd be together forever, and he isn't here. He wouldn't have lied. Why didn't he come? What did I do?"

"This one's yours," the other girl said, sotto voce to Noll. "What's wrong with her?"

"Ghosts are lingering memories and emotions," he explained. "The living Amanda Jenson would probably would have a deeper understanding, but the feeling of shock and confusion is all that lived on."

"Oh," she said. Then, "You didn't do anything wrong, Amanda."

"He thinks I did," Amanda insisted. "He doesn't like me."

She pointed determinedly at Noll.

"He's a little cold," the girl admitted, "but he wouldn't have wanted you to die either. Do you want to know a secret?"

The girl leaned closer to Amanda, put one hand up as if shielding the conversation, and proceeded to talk at her normal volume.

"He's actually pretty sweet under that unpleasant arrogance and the walking-wounded thing he has going on. Tell her," the girl called.

Noll didn't know Amanda, and he couldn't honestly say anything except that no one deserved to die like that – or at all. He could have lied, but for some reason he pictured Mai. He saw her earnest eyes, her beautiful smile, her impractical skirts, and the way her nostrils flared when he said something stupid. His Mai.

"You didn't deserve it," he told Amanda. "You're beautiful, and clever, and kind. You have so much passion. You didn't deserve what I – what he did to you. You deserved to live and I am so sorry that he hurt you."

Noll let his eyes fall to make an intent study of his shoes. One of the laces was a bit frayed, but otherwise they were in pristine condition. It was easier to look at his shoes than at the two girls by the grave or the one he left in Japan.

Mystery-girl picked up the conversation where Noll left off.

"See?" she said. "Even the grumpy one came here for you."

"Then why am I here?" Amanda asked.

"You're here because some total bastard killed you," the other girl replied. "You're here because when you're life was stolen, you were scared and hurt and you wanted to know why. You didn't deserve that, but you don't deserve to be stuck haunting your grave either. There's nothing left here for you. It's time to move on."

Both girls blinked in unison, and opened there eyes again, serenity stealing across their faces. An almost imperceptible glow surrounded them.

Slowly, the blood on Amanda's shirt faded and her open wound closed.

"It's time to let go," mystery-girl whispered

and Amanda was gone.

The graveyard was still with only Noll and the remaining girl in it. Noll wanted to say something, but didn't have the words. Finally, the girl broke the silence.

"I dream of falling," she said. "I try to fly. I want to go fast and far and high, but I'm a poor flier and soon I fall back to the ground. There's always someone there waiting for me to fail, waiting to tear me apart. It's funny, really. I don't remember any pain, but I definitely remember the fear."

"Drowning," Noll croaked, surprising only himself. "I'm suspended weightless in the water, and I can hear Ma – I can hear people calling for me. They need me, but I start to sink and their voices go away as the darkness closes in. I don't remember pain either. Just cold and failure."

"I'm sorry," she said, and Noll really looked at her for the first time.

"You're not like Amanda," he said, slowly, as realization dawned. "And you exorcised her. I helped, but I'm not a medium, so . . . how did you come to be here?"

She smiled at him, rose-lips lit by the still rising moon.

"I was flying," she said, "when I found out that someone I loved was dying. I had to keep flying so that I wouldn't be destroyed, even as each heartbeat was one less heartbeat left. Eventually, I started to fall, and for a little while, I figured why not? Why bother fighting the inevitable? So I picked up my scissors . . ."

Noll shut his eyes.

"And then, I remembered that I wanted one last golden day with Ron and Hermione," the girl finished.

Noll opened his eyes. He thought he was following the story until the Harry Potter reference.

His first ghost of the evening waltzed up to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Good luck, ghost hunter," she said, kissing him on the cheek and disappearing into the night. She left the scent of vanilla lotion in her wake.

Noll stood, dazed for a moment, as a car started and the ghost – the medium – the living girl drove away.

"Goodnight, moon," he muttered, and he drove back to his hotel. Lin would scold, Noll would ignore, and everything would make sense. That was his life.

A/N: This isn't my best editing work, so let me know if you see any mistakes. Also, I don't normally publish my weirder stories, so please let me know what you think. And, as always, thank you for reading!