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In front of Skulduggery stood a familiar thatched roof and white-washed stone walls, a sight he never thought he would see again. Uneasiness laid its weight heavy on his ribs. If Skulduggery still had eyes, the daylight would be near-blinding under the open sky. Laughter is carried on the wind from the distance, and Skulduggery's feet move unbidden towards the house. A logical voice, far off in the distance of his mind, concludes that there is no feasible way for this to be real. Hundreds of years ago, he left on a day exactly like this to complete an assignment with the Dead Men. Skulduggery can recall it with stunning clarity, their child clinging to his leg, begging for him to stay, and his wife looking solemn and defeated. The grass beneath his feet and the warmth in the air are exquisite. Pain is the only physical sensation he has known intimately for so long. His fingers move to tap the facade sigils, hoping beyond everything the approximation of himself is accurate enough. The memories of his life are far outweighed by his time thereafter.

Despite remembering the past so clearly, Skulduggery couldn't recall what brought him to this moment. The memories were abnormally clouded. He remembers Valkyrie. Her face was set in that grim, determined way, and her mouth moved, but the words she had been speaking were absent. Her dark eyes made contact with his eye sockets, and he could hear the laugh, raucous but happy, at whatever he must have said to her.  

Skulduggery's feet carried him forward to the door. He paused, hesitating for a fraction of a second. The thought of seeing her again drove him forward. Skulduggery lifted the latch and opened the door with a slight push. The hinges creaked halfway through opening, as they always did, and– 

Oh.

There she was, turning towards the door as he stepped inside- looking exactly how she did all those years ago. She is radiant with the sun dappling her features, her hair pulled back away from her face except for those few strands he would always tuck behind her ear. Their child is playing outside, weaving between clothes hung on the line with a dog chasing behind. Skulduggery was momentarily speechless, mistrust of the situation perishing in his throat.

"Mo ghrá?" Skulduggery's velvety deep voice sounded strained, even to himself.

Her eyes brighten in recognition, and a slow smile lights up her face. "Skulduggery? Is it you?" She takes a step towards him, the sewing she was doing forgotten on the table. 

"Is this another dream?" tears well in her eyes, beginning a slow journey down her cheeks. She reaches out to him in the small space, and he steps forward. She's warm and bright and alive. Real, Here, Alive.

Her hands skim up his suit jacket to his shoulder. "You look different… your eyes look tired, and look at you, all skin and bones ." 

Her fingers trace across his face, and Skulduggery feels like he's flying as he leans into the contact, smiling.

"Is it really you, my love?" she questions, looking him up and down.

He pulls her hand from his face, cradling it in his gloved ones.

"I am not the man you fell in love with. I've had to fight for so long, and I strayed from the path." Skulduggery takes an unneeded breath, squeezing her hands and looking into her wide eyes.

"I am not your kind and gentle husband. Without you, my wrath was the only thing urging me on."

She's looking at him with so much love and concern, and he can't bear to look at her. Skulduggery drops her hand gently and turns away, regret burning hot in his sternum.

"Would you fall in love with me again? I can't change all the terrible things I've done or all the people I've hurt. It's a burden I carry with me everywhere. Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting…"

She steps into the edge of his vision, "What did you do, Skulduggery?"

All his regrets from the moment he watched them both die swirl in his mind.

Skulduggery taps the facade sigils, the magic dissipating and exposing the skull beneath. He watches her eyes widen and the sharp intake of breath, but she waits for him to continue.

"Every day I fought took me farther from the man I was with you, and I let my rage consume me. Bloodshed followed every step I took, and I hurt those who had been closest to me. I lost count of the number of deaths caused by my hand..." Skulduggery clenches his fist, the leather gloves creaking. He turns to look at his wife in an attempt to banish the images of Vile's cruelty from his mind.

"I've tried to make up for what I've done. I never thought I would see you again. So tell me, would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo, I am not the man you knew… I know that you've been waiting."

She stares him down, "If that's true, could you reassure me of something then?" When he nods, she unclasps a pendant he is intimately familiar with; a silver locket with his family crest engraved on it, containing hair braided together, a strand from his hair, and hers entwining a lock of their child's. She holds it out to him, hand unwavering. "Take it then. Burn it and cast it aside."

Where his heart would be is filled with anguish and his voice chokes, "How could you ask that of me? I made that for you as a token of our love for each other and our child. It bears the crest that I had to walk away from." He's nearly yelling now, "It burned with you when you died. I can't!"

"Skulduggery, you're the only one who knew that!" she matches him, looking up at him in anger and determination. The whole world seems to go quiet."

"A stór..." The words are barely a whisper as they escape his jaw.

"I pledged my love to you, Skulduggery. I will fall in love with you regardless of how long it's been. From here in this life all the way to the very end. You're mine. Don't tell me you are a different man; all I see standing before me is my husband, who I've been eagerly waiting for."

She's been waiting for him since the moment she died. Through him embracing the cold grasp of Lord Vile and eventually coming back to himself. From him taking Valkyrie in and then getting revenge on Serpine. He had to suffer Ravel's betrayal and the death of his friends. Darquesse happened, and the world ended, and she would still fall in love with him. Losing her propelled him forward for so long, and now she was again in front of him. His arms snaked around her, pulling her desperately close to him.

"My Wife…"

“How long has it been?” She asks, holding him close, and he savors the feeling of her pressed against him. The top of her head sets against the flat of his sternum.

"Three hundred years"

She stands, pulling his skull down towards her upturned face to plant warm lips across his teeth. "I love you."

Over her shoulder, he can see their child and the dog in tow running towards the house. "I love both of you and have missed you so much."

“Skulduggery!"

He thinks it’s his wife again for a moment, disoriented. Still, the voice is too frantic and with being conscious comes agonizing pain. Every bone feels shattered, and Skulduggery can't see anything or feel his magic.

"Fuck! Skulduggery! You can't die on me. What am I going to do without you? Say something, anything!"

The voice, alongside everything else, fades for the Skeleton Detective.