Empty Shell's.

They'd had plenty of them at the ATF, far more than he could count on his own two hands. Empty Shell had been a colloquial term, their name for the people who weren't even people anymore, those that had been victims, suspects, witnesses. They were all the same to him. They were people that couldn't be classed as people. They were hollow, and they were blank.
Thankfully, he'd never had to deal with them much, since interviewing Empty Shells was a job not usually given to probies.
He'd seen them though, as they'd been led past his desk, a senior agent on either side, trembling so much he'd been able to hear their teeth chattering inside their skulls. He'd always bowed his head and looked away, somewhat ashamed.
And then he'd left, up and out of the ATF without a Empty Shell to his name.
There'd been jeers after him, friendly brotherly jibes and hoots of "Scramming like a coward Jinksy?"
"Ooh, another one gets away!"
And then just as he'd left, before he'd cleared the building forever, a remark yelled after him from on top of a wildly swinging office chair. "Don't worry Stevie, you'll get your empty shell one day!"
At the time, he'd ignored it.

Reincarnation.

The dead man is the first to open his eyes.

His forehead is resting against his bedroom door in the B&B. He knows it's his room, because he recognises the colour of the carpet under his feet.

There are voices, on the other side of the door.
But they're not calling for him; they're calling for Claudia.
Steve backs away in confusion. Claudia isn't here. This is his room.
He turns on the spot, and then he see's.

In the centre of his bed, wearing his thin ATF jacket, with his ATF ballcap crammed down over messy red hair, is Claudia. Her knees are drawn to her chest and she's looking at him.

No, not at him. Past him. At the door behind him. With those wide and empty blue eyes.

It's the look of someone who's had their whole life fall apart before them. It's the look he's seen many times before.
It's the look of an empty shell.

Steve falls to his knees in front of her, and dances his hand along the side of her face. "Claude." He breathes the word, gently, softly, and tweaks the hat on her head.
The little sister he never had; broken. Because of him. Because he wanted to protect her.

She doesn't respond; he's not surprised. After all, he's not really here. He's dead, and that alone is hard to comprehend.

He rests his forehead against Claudia's and wraps his arms around her. "It's not your fault. You hear me, Claude? It's not your fault."

She reaches up and adjusts her hat, taking a deep breath.

The sounds of Pete, Artie, Myka and Leena calling her all melt away into the background as he watches her.
He thought he'd avoided ever getting an Empty Shell when he left the ATF, when he exited those doors for the last time.

But now he's here.

"Don't worry Stevie, you'll get your Empty Shell one day!"
He's realised too late it wasn't a threat; it was a warning.

His Empty Shell is Claudia.

And it's all his fault.