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Yuletide 2021
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Published:
2021-12-25
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Bolt from the Boo

Summary:

Robin's seen a lot in his many years as a ghost, but never this.

Notes:

Thanks to innie and feroxargentea for the beta!

Work Text:

Rain was coming down at a good clip now, and the trees near the gate were bending over with a ferocity Robin hadn't seen in years.

"Is much worse," he said aloud. "Than before."

Kitty peered down the road. "Than earlier today? I believe you're right." She shivered, though not from the stormy weather. None of the rain or wind was affecting either of them, of course. One benefit to being a ghost. "I do hope Alison will come home safe."

He hoped so, too, but that wasn't what he’d meant. "No, than before before. When boy." It was very cold back then, but never quite so rainy.

"Ohhhhh." Her eyes brightened. "Like the show on the television I watched with Mike. I prefer the musicals, but this was interesting."

He nodded. "Earth always changing." He didn't know whether he'd have preferred the ice of his boyhood or the rain and heat of today, if he'd been able to experience the latter. "No matter—"

A flash of light came from behind them, and only moments later thunder crashed, startling both of them. Kitty let out a little yelp. "Goodness, that's close!"

Robin looked toward the road, grimacing. Were those headlights in the distance, or more lightning?

"Is that her?" Kitty asked. "I hope so. She promised to play Monopoly with me tonight. So many hours to play! Not to mention I love all the tiny pieces and colourful board. Much more festive than chess."

He gave her an annoyed look. "Festive," he scoffed. No one appreciated the great game except him and Julian. The lights on the road did seem to be getting closer, though. He leaned forward, through the bars of the gate—

Another flash of light, this time synchronised with the boom of thunder, and the metal gate lit up with racing sparks of electricity that seemed to go through him as well. His whole spirit crackled in a way he hadn't felt for centuries, for millennia. He stumbled backward. What in—?

"Eek!" Kitty shrieked. "Are you all right? You lit up like a Christmas candle!"

He shook his head, trying to clear it, and then patted himself down. "I...all right," he said. "I think." His voice sounded far away, even to himself.

At that moment, the lights on the road resolved into the bonnet of an automobile, and then they could both see Alison's shocked face through the windscreen. She skidded to a stop at the gate, throwing open the door of her car; the heavy rain quickly matted her hair down the sides of her face, and she called out, "Robin! Are you okay?"

Robin shook himself again, a full-body shake this time. "Yeah." He still felt a little strange, but okay. He walked toward the car, intending to ask Alison right there and then if he could—

He slammed into one of the bars of the gate and was knocked flat on his back. His eyes blinked rapidly at the falling drops of rain, which were actually landing on his face and rolling down the sides. "Robin? Robin!" was the last thing he heard before everything went black.


When he came to, he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face before even opening his eyes. He seemed to still be on his back, and he could feel the cold, wet ground beneath him, a few sharp bits of rock poking into his spine. He levered himself to a sitting position, to see Kitty sitting primly against the gate wall. Her face relaxed and she gasped in relief.

"Robin! You're awake!"

"Why I...still outside?"

She bustled over to squat beside him; it was quite a production in her elaborate gown. "We tried to move you, you see. None of us could budge you. Even Mike and Alison had no luck; their hands passed right through, as usual."

He let out a grunt, running his hand over a patch of weeds beside his thigh. He could feel the leaves tickle his fingers. He grasped one between forefinger and thumb and pulled. It came free. In his astonishment, all he could do was show the bit of green to Kitty.

She covered her mouth with her hands. "Wow! How did you do that?"

Twisting the leaf between his fingers, he said, "I no idea."


"Dooka, dooka." Robin plucked the pawn off the board and placed it to the side. The piece felt so solid and real under his fingers that he almost didn't let it go.

Julian smiled widely. "This game is a fair bit better now that you can move the pieces, too!" The rest of the ghosts had been amazed at Robin’s new ability, but Julian was the most pleased by far. Robin didn't struggle the way Julian did; moving the pieces was as easy as playing stones and pebbles with his cousins.

Mike sat on his right, Alison behind him with a hand resting on his shoulder. "I still can't believe it," Mike said. "That it's not a trick."

"Yeah, but he's really moving them," Alison said. "And I did see the lightning hit him. That must've been it."

"Yeah, like how he can short out the lights. But he can't touch us?" At Alison's headshake, Mike added, "That’s weird. You think it's permanent?"

"Not know," Robin said, though he was more focused on Julian's next move, slowly sliding his bishop across the board. But he hoped so. Maybe it was a sign of greater things to come?

"Think maybe he'd take over some of the jobs you do for the ghosts?" Mike asked. "Change the channel, turn pages in the books..."

"I not babysitter."

"And you think I am?" Alison asked, mock-offended.

Robin shrugged and moved his piece. "Dooka." Checkmate.

Julian's groan of defeat felt as good as the morning sunshine.


"Robin?"

Kitty's voice was just behind his ear. Robin jumped, knocking a bowl of berries off the kitchen table, which made a spectacular crash. He'd just been experimenting with sorting fruits by colour and size. He groaned loudly, looking down at the splattered colours all mixed in with the jagged porcelain—his art project ruined! Should he pick them up? Kitty wasn't going to, wasn't able to.

"Oh no, Robin," she said unhappily. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I just wanted to...ask a favour."

"No favours. Busy with project." He pierced her with a sharp look. "Now cleaning."

Her face crumpled for a moment, and then brightened in that way that made the whole household want to wrap her in a hug. He dropped to a crouch, trying to focus on cleaning up, not that haunting look.

"Of course, I understand," she said, cheerily. "If I had those powers, there are so many things I'd do. Read Alison's favourite books, get Alison tea, write Alison long letters about our deep friendship... oh, the list is endless!"

He grunted. If he spoke, he might end up offering to help her with some of those things.

"I'll just—" she said, and then she faded out of the room.

When he'd finished recreating his favourite cave home on the kitchen tabletop, it didn't look as beautiful as he'd hoped. He told himself it was because the berries had been ruined. It was the only explanation.

Just after dark that night, he used the remote control to turn the television to one of Kitty's musicals. She came in beaming to thank him, but he left before she could. He didn't like to see her cry, even when they were tears of happiness.


The next morning, Robin rose and stretched, feeling lighter than he had for weeks. His mind was spinning with ideas—things he could do, projects he could begin. Maybe he could even spend more time outside again, the wind in his hair, the grass beneath his feet. He took a deep, bracing breath and stood, kicking to straighten the dust sheet he'd started to use as a makeshift bed.

His foot passed right through.

"No," he murmured, tripping forward toward the closed door. His hands went out to catch himself—and he fell through the door and onto the hallway floor.

Groaning, he turned over to find Humphrey's body bending down toward him. "What you looking at?" he grumbled.

The body didn't answer, as usual, and stepped over him to continue walking down the hall.


For the next few days, Robin didn't feel like doing much of anything. He didn't play chess, didn't gather around the television, didn't join the food chats or follow Alison or Mike around the house. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor in his room, pouting. What was the use of new powers if they didn't last?

After one of his silent refusals to join in, Kitty came and settled next to him. He didn't want to talk, but he knew telling her that wouldn't make her go away, either. After several long minutes, she finally asked, "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer, just flicked ineffectually at the dust on the floor.

"It's disappointing, isn't it?” she said. “I only dreamed of the things I could have done, but you—you had such a brief chance to make just a little bit of difference in our world, and now it's gone. Must be difficult."

"Not need to rub it in," he said, despite himself.

"Oh no, I didn't mean to do that at all! I just... no one else seems to realise how tough it must be." At the shake of his head, she added, "I saw the weather report on the news this morning. More thunderstorms are coming..."

He briefly brightened, his back straightening, but then he slumped down again. What was the point? Even if he could replicate the effect, it would be gone again a few days later.

Kitty patted his leg gently, but she didn't leave, and he didn't shoo her out, either. As he'd heard before: misery loves company.


Robin heard the rumble of thunder outside the window, but he turned his back to it. The storm was getting closer and rain pelted the glass behind him. Kitty hadn't tried to convince him to go out there again, not after she'd first mentioned it. He was grateful for that. He turned toward the others in the room to see if she had noticed, and...

She wasn't there.

Kitty never missed a talk, unless she was doing something with Alison. And Alison and Mike weren't home; they were having dinner out or something, he hadn't really been paying attention.

"Where—?" he started to say, and then a flash of lightning directed his gaze out of the window.

Standing in the middle of the bars of the gate, face upturned to the crackling sky with happy anticipation, was Kitty.

He was out there before he really knew what he was doing, running toward her without knowing why. Could the lightning hurt her? It hadn't hurt him, but he'd always had the ability to make the electricity flicker.

"Robin!" she called when he got close. "I'm going to do it, too! Wish me luck!"

"Why you want?" he asked. Another boom made him shout to add, "Doesn't last!"

"Doesn't matter! Even if I only have it for one hour—or for one minute!—it will be worth it."

He examined her face, upturned to the sky. She really believed that, whatever her reasons. So he stood there with her, a step away, as the storm came ever closer. They both turned to see a fork of lightning race through the sky and strike something on the next estate over. It might pass over them, but it might not.

"It's so close now!" Kitty said. Then, with a slight tremble in her voice, she asked, "Hold my hand?"

He looked at her outstretched palm for a moment before grasping it, interlocking their fingers. She smiled and closed her eyes. Shrugging, he did, too.

The next boom and crack would have made every hair stand on end if he had been alive. When the echoes faded away, he finally opened his eyes again and looked at Kitty. Her eyes were closed, but as he watched, they fluttered open.

"Did it work? I'm still standing, but not between the bars anymore." She gingerly stretched her fingers toward the bars...

...and they passed through. Her face fell.

"Maybe not hit gate?" he said.

"Perhaps," she conceded. And then her face took on a sense of awe. "Your hair, Robin!"

"What? What!" He broke her grip to pat it down.

He realised it at the same moment she said, "It's wet."


"What's this?" Alison asked, picking up the folded sheet of paper beside the vase of flowers on the table. "'UR bst frend, 🤍 Kitty.' Aw. How sweet." She looked around the room to see if any ghosts were there, but it seemed not. "Robin? Did you help with this?" When there was no answer, she bent down to smell the flowers, closing her eyes and sighing in contentment.

Beside Robin, behind the sofa, Kitty happily sighed in unison. "You're right," she whispered. "It's much more fun to see their reaction when they think you're not there."

Robin frowned. "How she know is me that help?"

Kitty patted his arm. "It took me many years to perfect my handwriting. Give yourself time."

He grimaced. He wasn't going to continue to electrocute himself just to improve his handwriting. He watched Kitty break from hiding to go and talk to Alison about how they'd done it, chattering animatedly about their adventure last night and this morning.

Then again, maybe he would.