The Ghost of You

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Greetings. It's been forever since I've written any fanfiction of any kind. So long, in fact, that I couldn't even remember my old account and had to make a new one. I'm new to this fandom, in particular. For a long time, I hadn't read many books, despite being a writer and a strong lover of books, because I had a lot going on in my life and my mental health left me drifting. But in the last year or so, I've come back to myself and managed to find my passions renewed. A friend gave me the DP books, and I read them and well . . . now I'm obsessed. I mean OBSESSED. Upon finishing the books, I needed more. I read the novellas in a day. It still wasn't enough, so I turned to fanfiction only to find that I still wasn't satisfied and thus, the only solution was to write my own. That is how I've found myself here. I haven't read the other series that's connected to it or the novella following it yet because I don't have those books yet, and I have myself on a book buying freeze until I read more books on my shelves so I can declutter. So, in the meantime, anything that I write will just proceed as if those other books and that novella don't exist. Because I can't exactly make assumptions based on anything I've not yet read. I'm honestly pretty nervous and scared about writing fanfiction again, especially this fandom since I'm so new to it. Another note, as I've noted, I'm a writer. I do write my own personal stuff and plan to publish one day once the current novel I'm working on is completed to my satisfaction. I note this because I have my own writing style, and I don't find it very easy for me to duplicate other people's styles unless they're similar to mine. So sorry in advance since I know my writing style is not extremely similar to the source material. I completely understand if you don't wish to read due to that. No hard feelings. Also, due to my personal writing that I wish to publish someday, I won't ever reveal my real name or any name I may publish under because I hope that someday people will be writing fanfiction about my work, and I want to be able to read and to love their stories anonymously. Sorry for the very long intro. I guess, I'll get on with the show.

Oh yes, the title was borrowed from an MCR song. (I still own nothing.) For no reason other than the fact that I was listening to them while this fanfic idea sprung to life in my noggin and it seemed to fit.

Now . . . without further ado . . .

1. Chloe

The icy wind cut through my sweater and sent a chill over my skin. Derek pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around me. His skin was still hot after changing back and provided me with some warmth. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. He kissed the top of my head and pulled the blanket, that had been tossed aside, over us. Listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I looked up at the sky. Stars dotted the curtain of darkness, peaking out between growing clouds. It would snow again soon. Dead trees loomed over us in the clearing, and somewhere inside of me, I could feel the rot of death nearby from something or someone that hadn't been able to make it to the coldest months. I let my mind drift off in the peace of the moment.

Some part of me tugged memories forward that I had been trying to keep suppressed. I'd been fighting them, knowing that if I let myself think about them then I would break. It was the time of the year. Everyone else was cheerful and content. I saw it when they picked out the tree and put it up in the house. I stood back and watched as they all decorated it. They were all happy for a moment's peace. Even if we were all still on edge, it was the calmest moment we had in a while. I let them enjoy it. If I caught Derek's green eyes watching me, I forced a smile to my face and let him enjoy the time too. I wouldn't speak about it. He deserved this time. This happiness. They all did. I'd just sit back and watch and let the memories nag me at the back of my mind, and I'd push them down and focus on the new memories I'd made. Some good. Some bad. But even the worst ones all seemed worth it when I looked at him. When I was lying in his arms. When we were running through the woods. But still there was some hollow ache that even he couldn't fix. A hole that would remain there. I felt the lump in my throat start to form, and I tried to fight it back. I nestled in closer to him, burying my face in his bare chest. No. I won't ruin this moment.

"Chloe?" His deep voice made my heart flip.

I couldn't look at him. Not when I still felt the tears threatening to spill. I kissed his chest and kept my face buried there. I wouldn't look up.

"Chloe," he said my name again, concern lacing the only word.

I was suddenly aware of his warm hand on the small of my back under my sweater, rubbing soothing circles into my cool skin. His other hand traced my cheek and found my chin. With feather light pressure, he tilted my head up so I would look at him. His dark green eyes, like dark moss covering the forest floor, searched my face. I held my breath. Hoping he wouldn't see. Knowing he'd already seen everything. He always knew. But I couldn't speak. I couldn't ruin the moment.

He pulled me closer and kissed me. Just a brush of his lips and I felt myself able to breathe again. "I know." He said into my hair as he hugged me tight against him. "It's okay."

Tears slipped over my cheeks, and I buried my face in the curve of his neck. He held me firm against him, one hand gripping me hard so I knew he wouldn't let go and the other letting his thumb rub circles into my skin, trying to soothe me like only he could. My shoulders shook as I cried, but no sound escaped my lips since I kept them pressed into his shoulder. He pressed kisses into the side of my face, in my hair, and on my shoulder, revealed from my oversized sweater – actually his sweater – that had slipped down. I clung to him like he was the only thing holding me there. Like he was the last thing that I had to hold me still. Because he was.

I clung to him and didn't let go, and I cried until I felt too exhausted to cry anymore. With one last gut-wrenching sob, I let myself finally speak the words I wouldn't dare say earlier, "I miss my dad."

His grip on me tightened. He kissed my temple. He murmured into my hair, "I know. It's okay. I know."

The exhaustive emotions were too much, and I soon fell into a deep sleep buried there against his chest while he held me.