Overhang

A/N: ...lol. Don't ask.

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The wind was cold on her bare arms- she had left her Jacket back at the camp and didn't dare go back to get it and risk waking a certain skeleton who would want to know exactly what she was doing up.

She couldn't tell him it was because of a stupid dream.

She couldn't tell him that the stupid dream was because of the place they stopped at tonight.

And she DEFINITELY couldn't tell him it was because she was going to talk to dead people. No, he wouldn't take very kindly to that- he was the only dead person she was allowed to talk to (as far as she knew).

The cold wind mentioned earlier swept back her hair from her shoulders, and rushed right through the camp as she stepped from the trees. There was a ten-foot blank zone with only the stone of the cliff and a few trees gnarled from the salty wind, before the cliff. It was a full moon tonight, and it reflected off the waves hundreds of feet below. A choice place for either romantic meetings or suicides- or both. Sadly, Echo had chosen the latter years ago, but decided against it. 

She took a step out of the trees, then another, and soon she was standing so near the edge that her toes hung over. The wind pushed her back slightly- she had to actively keep herself on her feet. She wasn't afraid, though, because this cliff was solid rock. Besides, if she fell... So what? She could turn into her Cleaver form half-way down and hope she didn't hit the rocks. As long as she wasn't hurt too badly, she couldn't drown, so it wasn't like she cared. 

The moon bathed her skin and turned it ghostly pale, against her dark hair and stark clothes. She wondered how she looked half-heartedly, but right now she found her gaze drawn to the horizon, along the line of reflective white water that marked where the moon struck it.  

Something inside her unwound, even as the memories from the last time she came her struck her. The fear, the pain- that was a different person. That had been different. She wasn't that person anymore, and if she met that person in the street she would barely recognize it as a part of herself- and even then, it was her past. 

"Hey, Ali." The latin flowed from her lips as easily as if she had not spent the last 2200 years speaking four other languages. "I guess it's been a while... Sorry about that." 

It was thoughtless, a spilling of thoughts that she did not feel stupid about- but she didn't feel good about it earlier. She had no illusions about Alison listening to her, but she dared not write down everything that had happened somewhere someone could find it. She also felt good letting it all out in the open- She could pretend that she was simply telling someone about it, instead of locking it away in a diary that was somehow worse then keeping it all in her head. It wasn't a secret if it didn't have a lock on it. 

"Did you know that Apollo finally got a protegé? Well- of course you didn't, you're dead. Her name is Valkyrie Cain, and she reminds me to such an absurd degree of Penelope." Apollo. Not Skulduggery; Alison wouldn't know the name, and besides, she couldn't help but think of the green-eyed boy she had met all those years ago when he acted so... childish around Valkyrie.

"He acts like he's a... well, her father, when he's around Valkyrie. He... He teases! I was kind of scared. And it doesn't help that Valkyrie is practically the spitting image of Penelope! Not in her looks, of course not, but Valkyrie... acts like Penelope did, sometimes. She likes reading, and... Well, she's a bit of a smart-ass." Echo giggled slightly, looking up at the moon as she spoke. 

"I'm not sure what that says about how Apollo cares for her- Guilt, maybe? I don't know. Valkyrie would be pissed, though, if she found out that Apollo looks at her and sees the ghost of his dead daughter, so let's keep this all hush-hush, okay?" Pssh, who here would spill the beans? But it felt natural to tell Alison- or empty air, as it were- to keep quiet about it. 

"Valkyrie's Reflection is what really interests me. You see, a while ago, Apollo shot it. Yes, he shot a Reflection. I really didn't get the full story in any great detail, but it involved escaping... Typical Apollo. After that, Val, as I call her, gained a mind, and bam!- We have a look-alike of Valkyrie Cain who hates Apollo's guts. Or lack thereof.  Serves him right for shooting her.

"Anyways, I met Val, and here's the part that reminds me of Penelope- She looks at me like her mother, or at-least a cool aunt. Just like Penelope. She still hates Apollo, but I think she might be getting over that. She also has this untamed habit for discovering secrets- Mostly mine. Probably because my secrets are the most expansive and have the most black-mail value. No, I'm not telling you, even if you are dead- or worse, if I'm talking to empty air (which I am)." Echo grinned. Alison never did figure it out, and she was glad of that- It would have torn her older sister apart. 

"Yeah, she knows more about me in less then two months then you could figure out in... what, 200 years? I think I like her. Val, I mean. Valkyrie's also pretty sweet, but... I don't know, I feel a bit attached to Val. She's like the daughter I never had-"  Echo bit off the last part of her sentence. Val was the daughter she never had... with Apollo. 

She paused, then reverted into one of her old habits she broke herself of- One of her arms crossed her chest to hang onto the other, and she seemed to crumple inwards a bit. The tears came then- she always inevitably cried then. "Yeah, I'm still single. Pathetic, I know.

"Sorry, no family genes passed on yet. I know you're very, very ashamed and all that-" Alison had always disapproved of her sarcasm, even before the word 'sarcasm' had been created. "-but, oh well. I just don't have the heart. I'm weird like that. 

"Anyways, while I'm here, I might as well tell you the really shitty news." Echo shook slightly, wiping the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "I think that the job I tried to do last time I was here is about to be fulfilled- this guy named 'Nameless' has my given name. I have that necklace that binds my powers on, but if I'm to participate in the fight... chances are I'll try to kill someone, and that someone will have no choice but to kill me." Her voice broke, but she continued talking, because if she stopped she wouldn't be able to go on. "I'm sorry, but it's a possibility. I hope that it doesn't come to that, because the only person able to kill me is Apollo. He's already had the unfortunate duty to fight me once in the last few days...

"I... I hope it doesn't come to that. Really, I do. But if it does... Goodbye. I love you. You and Penelope both." She smiled at the moon, the tears making the wind bite into her skin as though it could freeze the salty tears that seemed to like the cold very much. 

Echo took a step back, wiping her cheeks again, letting the salt gather on her fingertips- then paused. "By the way, since I'm going to die..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Daphne Laurel." 

Like a magic spell, a sudden wave of calm washed over her. She might die tomorrow, or the next day. Hell, she might live. That, despite her wishes, was pretty much out of her hands. Echo- Daphne- Whoever she was, her story might end tomorrow.

And she was going with only one regret, but the empty space inside her that had spent itself when she confessed the thoughts she tried her best to keep to herself to her dead sister pretty much over-shadowed the thought she lived with since... almost before she could remember. 

Her hair was blown back again, and she smiled, letting her tears dry on her cheeks. Her arms stung from the freezing temperature, her breathing calmed, and she stayed a few minutes and tried not to rub her eyes- that would only show that she had been crying even more- then passed back through the trees to the camp. Hopefully, everyone was still asleep so they wouldn't think her a basket case for taking a walk in the dead of night.

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1. The other languages Echo speaks are  languages are French, Spanish, Portuguese, and English. Random fun fact. 

2. A Two-Shot, this is. Watch out for "Drop-off," the counter-part.