Most of the spirits crowded into Tim McManus’s office are in C.O. uniforms soiled by gunshots and stab wounds – with three exceptions. One was the French guy who shot Keller in the chest during his spree, lingering in the corner of the room, twisting a lock of hair around his finger. He avoids Keller's gaze as he enters.
The other two greet him with contrasting levels of enthusiasm.
“Yo, Keller! Hey, what’s up, man!” Omar White goes for a high five, then drops his hand. “Shit, I fucking forgot, the fucking ghost thing. Fuck. How’s it going, baby, what’s good.”
“Sup, Omar.” Keller turns his gaze towards the man he’s still attached at the hip to, even in the afterlife. “Minister.”
Said doesn’t reply, doesn’t look at him, just clenches his jaw ever so slightly and continues glaring at McManus, who is rubbing his temples. Spending eternity beaming headaches into McManus’s skull seems like a waste of time to Keller – the man has enough troubles to generate his own without Said’s help – but he supposes he isn’t one to talk.
“Still giving me the silent treatment, huh?” he asks casually, perching on the edge of McManus’s desk to force himself into Said’s line of sight. “It’s a long forever. You’re gonna have to break sometime.”
“Words don’t seem to get through to you, if past experience can be trusted.”
Keller throws up his hands. “Hey! He speaks! Welcome back.”
Said dragged his gaze towards White. “Omar, take a walk.”
“Nah, baby, you take a walk, I’m onto something here.” He’s got his hands out in front of him like a wizard casting a spell, seemingly in an attempt to knock one of the books off the shelf. His face scrunches up as he blows breathlessly at it in fake exertion.
Said stares at him for a long moment, then turns on his heel and strides out of the office. Keller follows. “Glad someone’s having fun,” he remarks, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at White.
“I’ve heard about your plans with Beecher,” Said says, as though Keller hadn’t spoken.
Keller snorts. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve heard’. Ain’t like it’s new.”
“I’ve heard,” he continues, “that you are enlisting the help of the others.”
“Not enlisting. They’re offering.” Keller cocks his head. “What, you pissed because it might actually work this time?”
“I’m worried.” Said abruptly stops and takes a step in front of Keller to face him. His dark eyes are intense, like boiling pools of black tar. “I beg of you once again to reconsider.”
“Reconsider. Right.” Keller laughs softly. “As if I’ve had anything else to do in this shithole besides consider.”
“You loved Beecher once.”
“I still do.”
Said shakes his head. “This isn’t love.”
Keller feels an overwhelming urge to shove the man, despite knowing it would be pointless. He jabs a finger at him instead. “The fuck do you know about love, huh? You sanctimonious fucking prick.” He spreads his hands. “Hey, if you’re so fucking great, why are you even here, huh? Why don’t you pass on to the great beyond and leave the rest of us sinners behind?”
“We are all sinners.”
“Yeah, blah blah. Maybe Allah just don’t love you like you think he does, huh?” Keller suddenly notices which pod they’ve stopped in front of. He smirks. “Or maybe you’re pissed because you’re more like me than you wanna admit.”
Behind the glass, Arif kneels on the mat in his pod in supplication, lips moving soundlessly, eyes raised to the heavens as he prays. Like O’Reily, his gaze is empty, the tiny mirrors in his skull smashed to pieces by Said’s death. Unfixable, and yet still he appeals to his god for some form of comfort.
Said casts him a long look, the burning tar cooling to calligraphy ink, then hardening into obsidian. “I’m nothing like you,” he says, almost inaudibly. An edge of warning in his voice.
“Right. Sure. You’re here to make sure McManus never finds a cure for migraines, not to watch your boy toy. You know, I have this friend in the laundry room, dresses like Prince, maybe you’ve heard of him.”
“I am nothing like him.” The edge becomes a butcher’s knife. “I never touched Arif.”
“And Alonzo never fucked Miguel, but that don’t stop him wishing he had.”
Said’s hand whips out suddenly, so fast Keller barely sees it happen, and shoves its way into Keller’s chest. He gasps.
Ghosts can’t fuck, they can’t touch, and they can’t get hard. It takes conscious effort to not pass through floors, walls, furniture, the living. It doesn’t take any effort at all to not pass through each other, because the consequences are enough to make everyone keep their distance after the first time.
Ice is too mild a descriptor for what it feels like. It is not just the absence of warmth, but an erasure of the memory of it. It is a frozen universe where nothing has ever existed. It is unending torture. The worst pain imaginable.
He can tell from the look on Said’s face that it’s agony for him too, but he just presses his fist deeper into Keller’s chest, grimacing. Keller finally finds the strength to step away and break the contact, and they both sag with relief.
No fucking, no touch, no warmth, no comfort. Cold and pain and isolation. That’s all there is, here.
“Arif is my brother.” Said’s voice is hollow. “I only want what’s best for him.” He holds his hand up to the glass, ever so slightly passing through it as he reaches for Arif, caressing the image of his face from a distance. Two feet or a million light-years, it’s all the same. “You should do the same for Beecher.”
“Yeah, well, Beecher ain’t my brother,” Keller replies hoarsely.
“You left him before, for his own good. You loved him enough to let him go.”
“Shit changed.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“Lights out!”
Emerald City is plunged into darkness. A flock of ghosts trails down the stairs near the control panel, Vern leading them. He catches Keller’s eye and gives a sharp nod. Keller straightens, and glances over at Said one last time. The pleading look in the minister’s eyes fades as he recognizes the determination in Keller’s. Defiance replaces it.
“If I can’t convince you to abandon this venture, then I will have to stop you.”
“Yeah? You and what army? Omar?” He laughs. “Allah ain’t here, remember.”
“Allah is everywhere.”
Keller shakes his head. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says, and for once, he lets himself fall through the floor.