Chapter Text
He woke the next morning, head and feet heavy from the weight of last night's drink, but a bigger burden than anything else was the weight of that tiny key next to his heart.
Partitio rolled out of bed, aching. And for all that had happened last night, for all that seemed to happen every day of his life that he lived in this haunted apartment, beside the specter of a man he could not touch, a love that could never be, he had to keep going. There was too much to do. There was always too much to do. But there was no one to do it but him. Even with the help he had received from the warm hearts around him, there were still bills to pay.
He showered and changed, but still kept that key in his chest pocket, as if he set it down, as if it wasn't with him it and tether of the Shadow would merely fade if he wasn't careful. He did take a picture of it before leaving the house, texting Throne with the image on his way to the school to busy himself for the day.
Sweeping, moping, changing trash bags, wiping down dry erase boards, moving supplies, scrubbing old bathrooms lit with yellow fluorescent bulbs that made them feel like a whole other world were just part of Partitio's job. But it kept him busy, kept his mind off of everything else for just a little while. The hours passed whether or not he was working, so he might as well have been making money with his time while he still could.
It was just as he was putting his cart away in the janitor's closet for the day when he heard a voice behind him.
“Partitio.”
He didn't need to turn to know that it was Osvald, but for all the soreness he still felt, he made sure to tack on a smile for him.
“Howdy, Professor!”
But those scrutinizing eyes pierced right through him. Any comment necessary on his mood was revealed with the depth of OSvald's frown.
”How is your father?“
“He's doing well. Lookin' better every day. Hopefully I'll be able ta bring him home soon.“
Osvald nodded. “And how are you?”
Somehow, he had dreaded that question more than anything else.
“I'm...” his voice faltered and he knew that it gave him away. “I'm alright. Tired.”
Even for all the warmth and light from the night before in the presence of his friends, the ashes of that felt cooler now in the light of a new day. He tried to gather what ember were left and kindle them. They had given him so much hope.
“That's to be expected. You should have taken leave.“
”Ain't as easy as all that. Ain't nothin' as easy as that.”
Nothing in life was.
“Would you mind helping me move some materials?”
“'Course not! Whatcha need?”
Around the corner from the janitor's closet was a storage room. Partitio had been there before and the key was on hhis keyring, so he gladly opened it up for them to gather the books that Osvald was looking for and start hauling them upstairs to the room he usually taught in. Nothing more was said until they were there in the empty classroom.
“What can I do to help you?“ Osvald finally asked, one hand on top of the stack that he had carried and left atop the desk.
”No need to worry. Everything's alright.“
”I can see very much that everything is /not/ alright.“
Partitio gulped down a hot breath and a throat full of fear. What was he supposed to say? To tell the truth? To lay himself bare here? To tell Osvald not only of his father's lingering in the hospital, but of everything that had brought him to this point, of everything that gnawed away at his peace like a dog with a bone? Would he ever be believed? Even thinking of how to explain everything, it felt too fantastical. But carving up what to share and what to kept to himself felt too great a task on his raddled brain.
So the whole truth came spilling out of Partitio as soon as he sat down at one of the desks. And through the whole thing, Osvald sat, watching and listening, the occasional tilt of his head, a nod, a hum. But he was focused and analyzing Partitio's every word. And there were a lot of them, rambling from one point to another, rotting apartments and ghosts, investigations and
And once it was all out in the open air between them, Partitio felt deflated, waiting for Osvald to say something, to say anything. After all, the whole yarn that Partitio had just unraveled was wildly unbelievable. Some days, he could barely believe it himself. And Osvald was a man for whom mathematics and science seemed to be the truth, a man for whom the world of spirits and hauntings would be frivolous nonsense.
So Partitio waited for a judgment.
But it didn't come as he expected.
”That's quite a story.“
But it wasn't just a story. It was the truth, that truth that he had been living for months.
”As far as the world of the spiritual... I don't have much I can do for you there. And it sounds like over all, your friends have a handle on that. But research is something that I pride myself on.“
He adjusted his glasses up the bright of his nose, and his mustache twitched upright, the lips below curving into a slight smile.
”Although true crime isn't my usual perview, I think the challenge might be worthy of my time.“
”P-Pardon?“
From the satchel he kept beside the desk, Osvald pulled a notebook and pen, and started to write. Partitio peaked over the desk, reading the words that were being put to paper. It was everything that Partitio had told him in relation to the Shadow's murder.
“What sort of research have you been doing so far?” he asked, hunkered over the page.
“Er, mostly sorting through old newspapers at the library. Although, I did visit a restaurant he used to go to.“
”And you've attempted to contact the police?“
”Yeah. They said it was still an ongoing investigation.“
”Interesting.“
”Why's that?“
“With the term 'ongoing', it makes me think that it's still actively being worked on by a detective instead of it being a cold case. So they may have some leads. It also explains why they were unwilling to talk to you. It's not uncommon for the police to appeal to the public for information if they're struggling for leads.“
He hadn't thought about that at all.
And with that, Osvald swept up his belongings, shoving them back into his bag. ”You've given me a starting point. I'll let you know what I find.”
“Wait, what?”
Osvald grinned. “Let me handle this for now. You should go see your father.”
He wasn't wrong. With a wave, Osvald dismissed him, and Partitio got on his way with a little more hope in his step.
Coming around the corner, Partitio noticed a crowd in front of the hospital, down at the base of the steps. Clustered around a pair of men where almost two dozen other people, microphones and cameras in hand. Voices floated in the air, growing louder as he approached. It wasn't any of his business, but still, he couldn't help overhear some of the questions as he made his way up the stairs toward the door.
”As I've said many times before, my brother was a shut-in. To this day, we do not know what happened and the police have offered us nothing in the way of information.“
He stopped just short of the sliding glass doors and turned back. The man speaking was tall with neatly trimmed black hair, wearing an expensive suit. Partitio couldn't see his face from the angle he was currently at, but something about his words, his cadence, pulled his attention.
”My client will take no further questions at this time.“ The other man stepped between the first and the crowd, pulling him by the arm.
The two of them pushed through the crowd to a waiting vehicle, weaving and dodging questions from the reporters as they left.
Maybe it was nothing. It was probably nothing. But Partitio couldn't help but feel something needling at the pit of his gut. There had been something familiar about that man. But what? He hadn't even gotten to see his face.
He paused a moment, thinking about heading down the stairs. Curiosity was lingering in the back of his mind. But by the time he thought about asking what was on his mind, they had dispersed. PArtitio did note to himself a few of the station names. Maybe he'd be able to find the broadcast later, and listen once more. Maybe it was nothing. But maybe it wasn't.
The nurse led him through the twelfth floor hallways to his father's room, even though he had memorized the pathways by now. And as the door opened, he was instantly relieved.
”Howdy there, Chickadee!“ His father called from the bed, sitting up a little straighter than last time, not looking as pale and as haggard.
Beside him, Castti was watching the readouts on the machinery that he was still strapped to, scrawling notes on the clipboard in her hand. Partitio knew he was in good hands, but seeing a familiar face here in the moment was certainly reassuring.
”How ya feelin', Pops?“ Partitio sat down next to the bed, not hiding his smile.
”Better and better. Ms Castti here just finished running a few tests.“
”Things are definitely looking better,“ she said with a smile, ”But unfortunately, we still need to keep you for a few more days.“
Papp sighed dramatically. “And here I was hoping.”
“Sorry, Mr. Yellowil.”
“Nah, don't be. I know yer doin' what ya gotta do.”
“Thank you for being so understanding. I--” Her words broke off, her attention pulled to the pager at her side. With a sudden graveness to her countenance, she pressed a button turned. “Pardon me just a moment. I'll return shortly.“
Castti left the room with a quick stride, leaving the door open behind her. Curiosity nagged at him again. Partitio poked his head out of the room and looked down the hallway where her footsteps had led. There at the end of the hallway, Castti was speaking to the bald man in a hushed tone that he could not hear. She presented him with the name badge that was clipped on her scrubs, and he nodded and let her into the room behind him.
It was nothing, Partitio told himself. Just another patient. Castti probably saw plenty of those around here. This was the busiest hospital for miles around.
Partitio started to lean back in, called by his father's voice, but froze fast when he felt a pair of eyes fix on him hard. He almost didn't dare look. It would have been better if he hadn't.
From the end of the hallway, the bald man stared at him, face a deep scowl, brow knitted, a heavy and menacing presence only a few yards away, and Partitio felt himself locked in that glare. He should have just retracted fully into the room. He knew that. That would have been the sane and sensible thing to do. But instead, he gave a nonchalant little wave as if to tell the man that he was a friendly sort, and then wrangled his curiosity enough to pull himself back into his father's hospital room.
”Everythin' alright, chickadee?“
”Y-Yeah. Everythin's just fine.“
Somehow, even through drywall and sheetrock, through the metal door, the feeling of those hard eyes was still on him. It was nothing. Just a bit of social awkwardness. That was all that was prickling at his skin, and nothing more.
So Partitio busied himself, sitting next to the bed with his tote bag in hand. His father did seem in better spirits today. That alone made him feel better.
”That food ya brought me yesterday sure did hit the spot!“
”I'm glad. I brought ya more today.” He pulled out on the containers that he had brought from home, packed with a warm and healthy meal. “How's this?”
“That looks fantastic. Ya spoil me, Chickadee.“
”Throne and Crick from the restaurant made this fer ya.“
”Ain't that sweet a them!“
”It is.”
”Ya got some good friends there, chickadee. Sorry I've gone and bungled things up again.“
”Don't say that, Pops. Ya ain't done nothin' of the sort.“
“Ya don't gotta try and spare my feelin's. If it weren't fer me, ya could be out livin' yer life the way ya want ta. Ya could've gotten to finish high school. Ya coulda gotten to go college with yer friends.”
“Pops.”
“I know I'm tying ya here. That I've been a burden on ya these long years.”
“Now, the Pops I know don't speak in falsehoods. I. I'm here because I wanna be. I wanna take care a ya. Ya ain't a burden. Those friends from high school... after everything that happened, I never heard from a one of them. Some friends they ended up being. But I got real ones now.”
He placed a hand on his father’s arm, giving him a gentle squeeze. As soon as he was out of this hospital bed, he’d give him the biggest hug he could muster. But for now, this would have to suffice.
“We’re family, and we’re sticking together.”
A small smile graced his father’s face, worn in such a way that Partitio worried this place was starting to get to him, that the long hospital stay was wearing on him. He couldn’t wait to have him home again.
“Right ya are, Chickadee.”
“As soon as ya get to come home, let’s have a little get together. The two a us, and everyone from the restaurant and Cas, and Mr. Osvald and his family. I’ll cook up whatever ya want! How’s that sound?”
That seemed to return a little touch of brightness to his father’s face, his demeanor.
“That sounds like a great plan. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good. Get ta thinkin’ ‘bout what ya want me ta make and I’ll start plannin’!”
The rest of the visit went smoothly enough. With his father’s spirit up a little bit, Partitio felt a little better himself. He didn't want to leave when the nurse came and told him that visiting hours were over, but with the evening getting close to settling in, he should get back home. So Partitio bid his father goodbye, and slunked out of the hospital and back onto the streets.
It wasn't a long walk home. It never was. But his feet were dragging over the pavement, his eyes distracted by any little flash of color, any little bit of movement, like somewhere, among all of this, was a clue that he had missed.
The idea of having Osvald on the trail as well was a comfort. It really was. But what was he going to find out that Partitio hadn't already? Not when he could go and speak with the Shadow at pretty much any time, when he could sit with him and hope that time had stirred loose another memory for him to file into his set of clues.
And there, gnawing at the back of his brain, was the sight he saw on his way in to see his father. A press conference, reporters shoving microphones into the face of a man whose features he could not see, and a man who spoke with a smooth and even voice as he addressed them. It was probably nothing. It had to be nothing.
But, Partitio couldn't help but ask:
What if it wasn't just nothing?
He'd managed to write down a few of the channels that had been at the press conference. Maybe it would be nothing. But at least he might be able to go back and watch the footage on a broadcast later and just confirm that it was nothing. He needed that confirmation.
Partitio took the stairs up after checking the mailbox. There was nothing for him but a handful of bills, which came as no surprise. Later he'd open them up and see what could be paid for now, and what might have to wait a little longer. There was still no idea yet what his father's hospital stay was going to cost. The last extended visit had been what drove them into living in a car. But things were better now, right?
Things were different. But, if he asked himself honestly, in spite of his father's currently being in the hospital, in spite of being haunted by a love he could never realize, fighting to find the truth of a man who he wanted to help, was this better? Or just different.
A solid roof was better than the peeling roof of his old yellow hatchback. A bed for his father was better than the backseat of a car. That was better. A job that paid decently, a fridge full of food, friends who were ready to share in his joys and sorrows. These things were better. This... in spite of everything that felt wrong right now....
This was better. Even though things were still hard. This was better. And he could keep going. A little more, and things might turn even further for the better.
He felt a little better when he sat down and ate dinner and drank one of the beers that was leftover in his fridge from the night before. His body felt heavy, bogged by tiredness. But he wanted to stay awake just a little longer. Once the sun was down, he'd reach out to the Shadow. Even if all they did was chat about nothing, it was better than the silence of the apartment. He still needed to ask about the key. His head felt so heavy, the swirl of liquor not helping that at all.
As his consciousness washed back into his head, lapping against the lids of his crusted eyes, Partitio took a breath. He ached, lifting his head off the back of the sofa into something of an upright position. The angle he had fallen asleep at felt pressed into his bones, forever warping them. This wasn't helped by the pounding of his head, rattling like an old car engine.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound perforated the air, reverberating off of the walls of his skull. It was coming from somewhere beyond the walls of the apartment, repeated and even. And that only made it worse.
It took Partitio a moment to pull himself upright, to shake his body into working again. The darkness blue night filled the sky beyond the stained windowed. Just how long had he slept?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He grumbled and groaned. Was maintenance really doing repair work at this time of night?
Trudging to the door, he stopped just short, hand on the knob and felt a chill prick every inch of his skin. It was just his front door. He had lived here for months now. The haunting was over. The ghost lingering, but harmless. He tried to shake the sensation off, but some measure of fear still living in him forced him to hold his breath as he stared through the peephole.
Bang! Bang! Bang! that thunderous sound resonanted beyond his door.
Bang! Bang! Bang! the clamoring of his heart against his ribs.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Right on his own door.
Partitio held tight to the knob, staring at the figure that filled the entire circle of his vision in the peepole. He held tight the breath in his lungs as a trickle of cold sweat dripped down his spine.
It wasn't the Shadow. No, this figure was too tall, too solid, not a slim figure of darkness scattered by shafts of moonlight. No. This was flesh and blood. The fist on his door, pounding to be let it, was real. Whole and solid flesh. Human.
And for the first time in a long time, something about that fact filled him with fear. For ages now, his fear of the supernatural, of the unknown had started to wane. But there were things on this side of the veil worth fearing. He had forgotten that. He couldn't open the door. Every fiber of his being seized at the very thought. And when he dared to peek again--
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Partitio sat up with a jolt. Darkness filled the apartment, not the uncomfortable kind, but a warm dim, cut only by the fizzling static and light of the television. Something was playing, something he could only barely hear for the thundering echo of banging ringing in his ears.
He found himself pulled between the two sounds as he tried to focus on the real and waking world and not whatever that dream had been.
”We have reports tonight of a -sshhhhtt- found in ---shhtttt--- bay.“
The static of the television seemed to eat as many of the words as his own brain lost. But that pounding was still there. No longer outside the walls of the apartment, but ricocheting off the walls of his skulls, off his aching brain.
At least he could mostly make out the picture. A reporter, female, standing near a wharf, the city nothing more than lights and shapes rising into the sky behind her. There were flashing police lights, cars, a boat. Men in uniform were clustered together behind her, away from the camera. A stretcher on wheels. A dark bag. The pit of his stomach ached looking at it, knowing somehow, what the contents were.
”Officials cannot at this --ssshhitttzz- any identification --shhhttsszzzzzz-, but suspicions are abound that this could --shhzzhhttzz-- disappearance -shzzts- year.“
Another murder in this city full of them. And although he had strained to hear, it had been no good. It didn't seem like there was much information given anyway. And it's not like it could have been the Shadow's murder. His body had been found. Partitio knew that. It was just another murder. He hated that he thought of it that way. It was still a reminder of a bigger problem beyond his realm of ability.
”Speaking to officers on the scene ---ssszzzrtttt---, could have connections to the disappearance of --ssssssshhhhhhhttzzz-- Mishuyo, reported missing by his sister. But that is yet to be confirmed.“
This place. Was it just the apartment block, or what it something in the whole of the city, that just seemed to swallow people whole, to grind them up, tuck them away in darkness never to be found again? Was it every city? It had to be. Maybe it was just his own investigation making this feel particularly close to home, his own slew of encounters with the darkness that made it all feel like the edge of a knife against his skin. That's all it was.
The Shadow. Throne's brother. The Wellows family. Temenos's brother. And now another soul. Countless souls, trapped somewhere between life and death, somewhere beyond the human realm.
And for now, there was nothing Partitio could do about any of it.
So he settled, bartered his time. He made a cursory effort to clean up after himself, leaving his dishes for the morning, and laying down in the bed, hoping whatever dreams might find him next were a mostly peaceful sort.
Tonight, Partitio just wanted to dream of a kinder world.
