A Touch of Life

4

"Okay, you know the deal. Sixty seconds, get me all the information you can. And please don't mess this up just because you wanted to get in her pants once, okay?" Seamus muttered as he and Emmie walked through the long corridor of the funeral home.

No matter how often Emmie came here or to the morgue, they both still gave him the shivers. Funeral homes were the worst. They were always too quiet and too pristine, and the odd smell of death lingered in the air, usually mixed with cheap air fresheners used to try to mask the foul rotting stench.

Emmie stopped to scowl at Seamus, and Seamus just shrugged before shoving Emmie into the small room where Fleur's body was being held with a mumbled 'good luck'.

The room was bare, aside from a large oak coffin in the centre of the room that was on a table matching the coffin's wood; the whole thing was lined with lace, and Emmie held his breath as he shuffled towards the coffin to see the person inside.

Fleur looked the same. She was just a little paler, and covered in some ugly bruises and scratches all down her face and neck. Her hair was a little shorter too, and she looked like she was smiling slightly. It looked as if she was just sleeping, and that made Emmie's heart ache. Emmie stood over Fleur and took a few deep breaths, before holding up the watch on his right wrist, and hovering his left hand over Fleur's face, waiting for the second hand to hit twelve. When it hit, Emmie let out the breath he'd been holding and touched Fleur's face gently, watching her cheeks go from grey back to pink, and the air rush into her lungs quickly as she sat up with a gasp, her bright hazel eyes wide and worried.

"Woah, what?" croaked Fleur, then she groaned and clutched her head. "Oh, ow. What happened?"

"Y-you got beaten up," stammered Emmie. He could hear the precious minute he had ticking away on his wrist, but he could hardly bring himself to speak.

Fleur's face darkened slightly.

"Oh yeah, that was rude. Am I in the hospital?"

Fleur turned to look at Emmie, and when she did her hands flew to her mouth and she gasped again.

"Emmie? Is that you?" She breathed, leaning towards Emmie. The coffin edged forward, closer to the end of the table and Emmie eyed it warily, but Fleur hadn't even noticed, she was just grinning widely at Emmie.

"Oh my god, it's been so long! You've grown up so much."

Emmie couldn't help but smile a little at Fleur's excitement; her happiness really was infectious.

Fleur leaned forward to hug Emmie, and Emmie jumped out of reach quickly, his heart hammering.

"N-no Fleur, listen. You need to tell me-" Emmie started, wringing his hands together anxiously and trying to suppress the overwhelming feeling that he was about to throw up any second.

Fleur looked around, her eyebrows knitted together, and then she yelped when she realised what she was sat in. Fleur frantically tried to struggle out of the coffin, and with another yelp and a loud thud, she managed to throw herself out of the coffin and onto the floor. Thirty seconds, Emmie thought, looking down at his watch, then to Fleur, who had stood up and was taking a few steps towards Emmie. Emmie responded by shuffling backwards as far away from Fleur as he could be, pinning himself against the door.

"Could you tell me what's going on?" asked Fleur, looking around with a frown. She looked so upset that it made Emmie's stomach twist uncomfortably, he couldn't imagine how awful it must be for the people he brought back to life; suddenly being rushed back into reality with no idea of what was happening.

Emmie opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of the right thing to say.

"Am I dead?" whispered Fleur. Her voice broke a little and she looked in the mirror next to where Emmie was stood, running her fingers across the violet bruise along her cheekbone that was startlingly bright in contrast to her pale skin.