Cold

Snow fell from the sky, making Echo shiver and pull her coat tighter around herself. Looking up, her cheeks pink from the falling ice, she smiled and stepped back before her balance left her. Evidence up that happening several times sparkled on her lawn. Ireland was a good place for snow. 

Grinning like a loon, she spread her arms out, trying to catch some in her gloves before realizing it was cold and wrapping the jacket around herself yet again. Lowering her gaze to the house, she realized that a light was on inside. 

Oops. She ran for the door, hoping to get there before he came downstairs and noticed her absence.

When Skulduggery walked down the stairs he was glad to hear the sounds of Echo moving around in the kitchen: He could not eat, but it showed that she was, in fact, there. As it was, he poked his grinning skull around the corner and was about to ask something but froze. 

Echo. Her cheeks blushing, hair slightly damp, jacket covered in snow down the back, and shivering. 

So much for his question. Gently he retracted his cranium and padded up the steps. His jacket was thrown haphazardly over the chair in the bedroom. 

Echo shivered slightly but grinned. He hated when she was cold, but he didn't have to know- 

She stood straight after looking in one of the bottom cupboards for her cereal, turning suddenly. The Captain Cleaver found herself nose to nose with a certain skeleton. 

She stepped back involuntarily and found herself against a counter. "Umm... I can explain?" She asked, not quite sure why she was being so defensive.

Skulduggery tilted his head to the side. "Is there something that needs explaining?" He asked, sounding confused. In one of his hands he held his jacket, and Echo's eyes widened. 

"Are you going somewhere?" She asked, deflecting the pointless question.

"No, but... As long as you are going somewhere, I would prefer you do it without sneezing all over everything." He gestured towards her inferior winter gear, the fact that it was still wet from her making snow-angels at an ungodly hour of the morning, and looked expectant. 

Echo giggled. That was the closest she had ever heard him getting to admitting he didn't want her to get sick. "It's my stuff, I can sneeze on it if I want." She heaved herself onto the counter, setting the cereal box on her knees and leaning over it like it was a shield. She didn't want to admit that there was pressure building in her nose, and that her head felt funny...

"Oh, really? Fine then, get a cold." He turned and took a step. 

Echo sneezed and he froze as if he had been stung. 

There was silence for a moment, and Echo hid behind her shield of Frosted Flakes while he turned around and took the two steps back towards her. Her eyes gazed at his eye-sockets like a frightened deer but he couldn't see anything else. 

There was a little more silence before Skulduggery sighed and removed the box from his view, placing the back of his hand on Echo's aching head. He couldn't feel textures unless it was moving, but he could feel the cold... and heat. There was quite a bit of it. Odd, since she was just outside in the snow from the looks of it. He gazed at her steadily. 

"I thought you said I could get a cold..." Echo complained after a second of him just looking at her like she was an idiot. 

"That was a rhetorical statement," the skeleton stated as he lifted her off the counter like a child. 

Echo still had the box of cereal in one hand and she gazed at it in mourning. Skulduggery probably wouldn't stand for her eating anything cold... 

But twenty minutes later, bundled up in Skulduggery's jacket, reclining in bed and listening to the Nightmare before Christmas sound-track, she had to admit being sick had it's benefits. Especially the fact that below she was being cooked breakfast by a Skeleton while up here she could twiddle her thumbs and sleep. 

When Skulduggery came back up with her breakfast Echo was fast asleep yet again, curled on her side and hugging a pillow. 

...God, this woman could be INSANE. 

Struggling to hold back a huffish sigh, he walked back down the stairs and put the plate of pancakes and bacon under a large bowl so they could stay warm. 

A moment later he was back upstairs, sitting in the chair in her room and wondering what exactly to do next.

Let's see, she's asleep, she's warm, there's no way in hell he's going to read her a story and she couldn't exactly eat while unconscious... 

His gaze wandered the room, landing on one of her walls. Huh, he had never really noticed this, even though he slept here now. It was usually dark.

The painting was on the wall the door was in, so he couldn't see it unless he was fully inside. Her bed was also placed so he couldn't see it, even sitting up, unless he turned around. No wonder. 

The background was dark, with bright sparks here and there he presumed were stars. It was directly on the wall, which he discovered after going and touching it. 

It was a row of people, back to back, heads tilted forward. They were lined vertically, and she probably had to get a ladder to do the top couple:

The very top one was of himself. Both of him-selves. On the right was his usual skeleton form, looking down at him while in one hand he held a flame. On the left was his old human form, who held a candle. Hmm. So he DID have black hair- it was hard to remember since he didn't see it all that often. Mirrors weren't common yet back then. 

The next down was Echo and Alison, both smiling. Echo looked uncertain while Alison grinned happily, her blond hair over one shoulder while Echo and herself leaned against each-other. Echo's own hair was free. 

He got the significance: Alison was on the left, closer to "Apollo," his human self. This had been painted when Echo still didn't know for sure what was going on between then, hence her uncertainty. 

But the next one down... Valkyrie and Penelope were back to back. Now that he thought about it, they looked almost the same, right down to the dark hair and eyes. 

But Penelope was the daughter of Alison and Apollo, while he obviously couldn't give Echo a child. 

So why was Valkyrie there, then? To signify that Echo thought of her like a daughter? No, couldn't be... 

...And if this was painted before Valkyrie met Echo, why was Valkyrie in the picture? Was it possible he had never noticed it before because it hadn't BEEN there before? 

Then why was Echo uncertain? He thought about it, and was sure there was no way Echo could have created something like this in the odd time between their reunion and Nameless's demise, but since then they had been pretty sure...

Unsure about Valkyrie, perhaps?

...Or was Valkyrie filling up empty space?

Oh, Echo! He glanced at her sleeping form, then back at Val. It was true! Had to be! While the rest of them had realistic expressions Valkyrie was smiling... almost cheesily. 

His heart dropped to his stomach, and a sudden chill took over him, even though he had no heart and no skin to be goose-bumped. He knew he could never give Echo children... But it was another thing entirely for her to pretty much acknowledge that. 

His skull drooped and he looked at Echo again... He felt cold and it was nothing to do with the snow outside (her heater was very good). With a heavy chest he sat next to her on the bed, reaching out and touching her hair. 

Echo stirred and he whispered, "It's okay, go back to sleep," even though it was not okay. She didn't have to wake up for it though. 

...Skuduggery rarely felt sorrow or remorse, and even more rarely had that weird urge to cry even though he couldn't. Echo, so sweet and kind, would make a very good mother. He was sure of it! But she could never mother children of her own unless she found someone else...

No! Skulduggery felt like slapping himself. He's known this for several centuries: If he fell in love, he couldn't have offspring. Just because he wanted Echo to have children didn't mean he had to shove her to someone else! 

That chased the chill from him, though he was still not warm. Sighing, he lay on the bed next to her, occupied by his heavy thoughts.

A/N: I feel like slapping myself now, thanks. It started out as crack and fluff and then by the end I had to make myself depressed... >.<>

Plot-Bunnies: *munch on bancakes*

(See word of the week.)