SO. uh. hi?

L I S T E N i know it's been a while but i suffered computer death and now have been working 7-day weeks, so idk what to say other than here's the next chapter, if you're reading this thanks for sticking around, and hey! it's over 9k words! *confetti*

Just before the sun begins to set, while the team is doing final checks on the camera and equipment set-up, Leeteuk slides open the door to the yard and sits quietly on the step. The air is still, the small buzz and click of summer bugs in the distance signaling the end of the day.

The kids have been good. It’s almost strange not having to spend all day mediating their child-fights, trying to get them to help with household duties, watching them play… yes, that’s what feels different. He sighs. Things haven’t been comfortable and normal since the first few days after they moved in, and Leeteuk tries very hard to keep the knowledge at a distance. That moving was his idea, bringing them here was his idea - he knows that what’s happening is not his fault. Kangin certainly doesn’t seem to be blaming himself. Leeteuk only wishes he could do the same.

The door slides open behind him, and Leeteuk doesn’t turn to look when Donghae sits gently beside him. He doesn’t say anything.

He’s not what Leeteuk would have expected out of someone in Donghae’s profession. He’d protested at first when Sungmin had showed him the little webpage announcing that paranormal investigators would be giving a seminar at the university, but nothing about the site had seemed gimmicky at all. Still, Donghae’s easy presence and Hyukjae’s confidence were at odds with the drama and fear-mongering that Leeteuk had been worried about when he brought them to his home. Having the three of them here has been, for want of a better phrase, a blessing.

After a while, Leeteuk notices that Donghae has pulled out a camera and is taking pictures of the tree line. He stops every so often to check a photo’s result on the display, and by the time Leeteuk realizes he’s been staring at the camera screen, it’s because Donghae has begun cycling through the older photos saved to the memory card instead of taking more.

“They’re really nice,” Leeteuk remarks. “Are you a photographer?”

“No, it’s just a hobby.” Donghae shrugs easily.

“You mean, besides ghost-hunting,” Leeteuk chuckles.

Donghae smiles and swipes to a new photo, this time of a more urban landscape than the ones they’d been looking at before. “Parapsychology is less of a hobby and more of a lifestyle when you’re me,” he says with some humor. “Professionally, I’m a sports therapist.”

“Oh? That’s… sorry, not to be rude, it’s just not what I would have guessed.”

“It lets me make my own hours, so I don’t have to limit investigations or worry about taking time off. I like it,” he says with a smile, “I like helping people get back on their feet.”

If he realized the pun he’d just made, Donghae doesn’t let on. He slides to a new photo, this one of a small child holding a fluffy orange dog. Leeteuk must be thinking sluggishly, because it’s not until Donghae slides to the next photo - one of the same little girl, this time asleep on a couch and slumped against an equally asleep Hyukjae - that he remembers.

“Your daughter, right? What did you say her name is?”

Donghae says, “Ara,” and smiles. In the next photo, Ara is wearing only one sock, the pant on her other leg rucked up as Hyukjae attempts to pull down the hem of her shirt  - but she’s got a fist around his hair, Hyukjae’s mouth open in pain as the little girl giggles, eyes alight. Leeteuk finds himself laughing, Donghae shaking his head fondly at the picture.

“They can be a handful, huh?”

“No kidding, and this was a good day.”

Leeteuk chuckles, thinking of when Ryeowook was that age. He was a lot fussier than Yesung at three - although, three year-old Yesung was adjusting to his new lot in life and curiosity did well for him.

“She’s not really ours, you know,” Donghae cuts in to Leeteuk’s reverie. “Not biologically, obviously. Not even legally.The adoption is technically under Hyukjae’s mother.”

Leeteuk hums in sympathy. “Yeah, none of our kids are actually ours, either. We’re a foster operation. But that’s not what counts, right?”

Donghae leans back on the step, letting the camera settle in his lap. “No. It’s love that makes a family.” They look at one another for a moment, and then Donghae ducks his face to hide a grin, saying, “Hyukjae would shove me for being cheesy.”

Leeteuk laughs louder than he has in weeks, stress and guilt leaving him for only a moment.

“But he’s worse than I am,” Donghae says, seemingly to himself, and Leeteuk pushes himself to stand as the last of this strange humor leaves his chest. He stretches, feeling light, and pats Donghae on the shoulder.

“Come on, I’m going to start dinner. We have a lot of mouths to feed.”

-

Half of the long kitchen table is now cluttered with monitors and equipment, cords tied and taped out of the way, and Kyuhyun sitting behind the screens is going to be more or less a permanent fixture for the night. Donghae, seated on the clean half of the table, curls his hands immediately around the coffee mug that Hyukjae sets in front of him.

“Okay, we have two sets of walkies and seven investigators. Assuming you’ll be joining us, Heechul-ssi?”

“Hell yes, I have a bet to win,” Heechul says with a grin. Kyuhyun snorts from behind the monitors, but doesn’t respond.

Hyukjae sets his own mug of coffee on the table with a dull thunk, milky liquid sloshing dangerously. He always makes it so sweet, but Donghae is most likely to end up finishing it for him. “Well, Kyuhyun needs one back here, he and Sungmin can share. Hae, are we splitting up?”

“I think so, for now. What about you two?”

Kangin and Leeteuk look over from where they’re standing by the sink, putting away the dishes from the late dinner they’d all shared after set-up. “You mean, are we splitting up?” Kangin clarifies.

Hyukjae nods. “It’s your choice. If we have one walkie with each of two teams and one back here at base, we can give one to the kids in the study. Just in case. Sound good?”

“Let’s stay together,” Leeteuk says, leaning back against the counter.

Hyukjae looks at Donghae. “Okay then. Who’s stuck with Heechul?”

There is an immediate and loud protest, Heechul indignantly insisting that they should be so lucky to have him here, while Hyukjae struggles not to laugh. Donghae finds himself smiling down at his coffee.

“Well he has to be accounted for, we can’t have anyone running around here with a sheet over their head, destroying our credibility,” Kyuhyun says mildly, not looking up from the monitor. Sungmin covers a laugh with the back of his hand.

“‘Credibility,’” Heechul mutters sarcastically. Hyukjae picks up his mug and takes a long drink, no doubt to stop himself from replying.

“Okay, okay, we’ll settle this with rock, paper, scissors, loser gets Heechul,” Kangin suggests, cheeks pulled up in the effort to keep from laughing.

“Excuse me? Hey, loser should be proud of it. There’s nothing wrong with losing!!”

Hyukjae rolls up his sleeves to the sound of laughter while Heechul scowls at them all, and Donghae reluctantly releases the warm mug and stands. It ends pretty quickly - Donghae loses both rounds. The first, out of chance, and the second because he knows Hyukjae favors scissors.

It’s loud in the kitchen again, Hyukjae high-fiving Leeteuk and Kangin, until Donghae grabs one of the walkies and says, “Okay, Heechul hyung, you’re with me.”

He ignores the silence, shrugging lightly when Hyukjae mouths “Hyung?” at him, and switches on his walkie. Heechul is harmless - there are worse skeptics out there, and Donghae isn’t bothered. He knows what’s real, and that’s all that really matters.

Finally they set their walkies to the same channel, and then it’s time for lights out. Kangin needs to take a moment to check on the kids, so Donghae heads off toward the east wing first, Heechul in tow.

Donghae admits, he half expected Heechul to be a pain. And - yeah, he is a pain, but not on purpose. Donghae only has to remind him to keep his voice hushed a few times while he takes base readings of the EMF in the various rooms off the hallway, and Heechul writes down the numbers dutifully, asking too-loud questions the whole time.

They enter Ryeowook’s room last and Donghae flicks on the IR camera he’d snagged from the kitchen before they began. Heechul comes up close, looking over his shoulder as Donghae scans the room.

“What is that?” Heechul says, the laugh evident in his voice. “Heat sensor?”

“Infrared,” Donghae nods. “It displays thermals.”

“Yeah, but why? Gonna catch a ghost with that? They don’t have bodies.”

“Of course not, but they draw energy from their surroundings. Heat is energy.” Donghae places his hand around the bed frame and holds it there for a second, then moves out of the way and points the camera. The place his hand had been is clearly outlined in an orange hue, contrasting to the blues and yellows of the bed frame. “You can see what’s been affected. Although we’re looking more for anything suspiciously cold than we are for any heat signatures.”

“Like when you start to see your breath and the ghost is about to jump out and murder you -”

“No,” Donghae cuts him off, smiling indulgently. “Not like that, not like the movies.”

“But you can see ghosts, right? What’s the point of this?” Heechul waves his hands at the equipment.
 

Donghae takes a moment to properly scan the room before switching the machine off. “I can’t see them unless they’re using a lot of energy. And I can’t prove it.”

Usually this is the part where a sceptic will feel validated, and Donghae doesn’t want to deal with that right now, so it’s a lucky thing that his walkie chooses that moment to squawk to life.

“North wing, clear. I’m going to work on debunking the doors and I need the IR camera.”

“East wing is clear. Can you get me a K2 meter from base?”

“Location?”

“Ryeowook and Yesung’s room.”

“Copy.”

“Over and out.”

“Roger that.”

“Hyukjae. Just go.”

It’s less than a minute before Hyukjae shows up with the K2 meter, nodding at Heechul as he enters the room. Heechul, lying flat out on the opposite bed, just stifles a yawn in response.

“Let me know when you’re done so I don’t disturb you. We should get a reading of the corridors tonight.” Hyukjae asks in that not-quite whisper that investigations always necessitate.

“I’m planning to hang around here until 1 just in case the knocking occurs.”

“Okay. Don’t let him fall asleep.”

Donghae laughs under his breath and Heechul sits up to glare at Hyukjae. They exchange equipment, Donghae’s IR camera for Hyukjae’s regular camcorder and the meter, and  Hyukjae leaves. Donghae waits until his footsteps disappear before turning on the K2. He places it alongside the audio recorder which has already been set up on the little table between the beds.

“Hyung, I’m going to ask you to be as quiet as possible for this, okay?”

He’s half-joking, but Heechul’s expression flits between annoyance and tolerance and then he sighs. “Look, I’m not here to get in the way. It’s hard for me to take this seriously but I’m not going to mess up your investigation or whatever.”

“Thank you,” Donghae says simply, then switches his walkie to the base channel, letting Kyuhyun know that he’s going to need radio silence unless there’s an emergency.

“This one is recording our voices,” Donghae says, pointing to the audio device, “and this one picks up on electromagnetic frequencies, like the EMF, but it also picks up on radio frequencies on a more sensitive basis. Problem is, you can’t tell the difference. So if our camera or walkies interfere with the signal, we have no way of knowing.”

Reaching across the space between them, he pushes the camcorder into Heechul’s hands. “If you can, focus this on the K2 meter. It’s going to light up if it detects something.”

He turns it on dutifully, aiming the lens at the side table. “This is going to be great. Director Kim catches ghosts! Is there anything he can’t do? Oh, but what a shame that his face was not caught on camera.”

Donghae does a really, really bad job at hiding his laughter, and Heechul swings the camera in his direction. “Hey! We’re supposed to be quiet,” he says in a harsh whisper.

His laughter tapers off. Donghae runs a hand over his face in an attempt to focus on the task at hand. “Okay, Director Kim, camera on the equipment. I’m going to start the interview now.”

“Ghost interview? Sounds kind of dull.”

“We’ll see.” He waits to make sure the recording light is lit on the camera, and despite his certainty that Yeong-Ja is not around, he hopes he can connect with her anyway.

He clears his throat. “East wing, Ryeowook’s room, 12:40 A.M. Donghae and Heechul, K2 recording session.  Second team location is the north wing.” There’s a moment of silence. Heechul looks past the camcorder’s screen and raises an eyebrow.

“Now what?”

Donghae shrugs. “Now we wait.”

-

Kangin folds his arms in front of his chest, watching Hyukjae swing one of the doors on its hinges. He opens the door, stands back, watches. Gives it a little push. Watches as it sways gently inward a bare few centimeters.

“So. What, uh. What are we trying to prove again?”

Leeteuk, sighing, rubs at his eye with a knuckle and gives Kangin a very unimpressed Look. Hyukjae, on the other hand, doesn’t even react to his tone and Kangin wonders where how his focus is even possible.

“We’re trying to disprove it,” he corrects. “These doors don’t seem to sway a lot, which is good, because it doesn’t look like a draft is going to affect them. The door frame isn’t warped either. I’m assuming they’re all built the same way?”

“Yes, in both wings.” Leeteuk steps forward, shutting the door they’ve been messing with, the one that leads to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Once it clicks into the frame, he hooks his fingers into the lip at the edge of the door and pulls. It slides open this time, rather than swinging out on a hinge. “We almost always use them like this, sliding. But that night when they all popped open, it was the other way,” he explains.

Hyukjae slips his phone out of his pocket, flinching a little at the bright light. “It’s 20 to one, didn’t you say that’s when the knocking should start?”

“That’s when it would start, but it hasn’t happened since that night.”

“I always wondered if that was a good sign or a bad sign,” Kangin mumbles. Hyukjae doesn’t take the bait - he doesn’t answer. He just slips his phone back into his pocket, looking at the door contemplatively. Admittedly, Kangin hadn’t spent a lot of time wondering that, but Hyukjae’s silence actually has him worried. Thinking about it, as freaky as the knocking had been, things had actually escalated around here when it stopped. He frowns.

“Okay, if Leeteuk and I sit on the bed, Kangin, can you knock on the door? Let’s see if we can recreate it.”

“If you’re trying to say it was the kids -”

“Hey, no, that’s not it,” Hyukjae says calmly. He nods his head toward the camera set up in the far corner of the hallway. “If we can prove that it’s not an environmental factor or a human manipulation, that helps our case.”

“Oh. Right.”

Leeteuk kicks at the toe of Kangin’s shoe. “Why are you so defensive,” he says, but it’s not a question at all. He just sounds tired.

They set up their little experiment. Kangin stands on the other side of the closed door, knocking and banging on it with his fists while Leeteuk directs him from inside - no; it’s too soft; or it’s too loud; or the door shakes too much; eventually, Kangin gets it sort of right.

“Okay, come inside,” Hyukjae calls.

“So,” Kangin says when he enters, chewing in the inside of his cheek. “Was that helpful, or not?”

“It wasn’t the same,” Leeteuk says. “The door didn’t - I mean, I don’t know how to describe it. The door didn’t shake that night, did it? It was just the sound. And it happened to all the doors at once.”

“It’s helpful,” Hyukjae agrees. “It’s not going to solve anything, but it gives us some credibility.” He pokes at his phone, now sitting on the bed beside him. “Couple minutes to one. Let’s see if anything happens.”

-

Donghae stares blankly at the wall over Heechul’s shoulder. From somewhere in the house, he hears a dull, blunt sound and glances at his watch.

“That’s Hyukjae,” he says for the benefit of the audio recorder, but Heechul’s head pops up from the phone on his lap and he goes, “What?”

“Those sounds are not paranormal. It’s probably Hyukjae and the others.” He’s looking at the face of his watch - 5, 4, 3, 2, -

Nothing. He listens carefully, but doesn’t hear any similar thuds coming from the other side of the house either. To be sure, he picks up his walkie.

“East wing, clear. Was that you guys making noise earlier?”

“North wing, clear. That was us earlier. Nothing just now. It’s one a.m., did anything happen over there?”

“No, nothing.”

A barely audible sigh through the radio static. “Okay, thanks. No luck for you?”

“Not yet. Radio silence still in place for now.”

“Got it. We’re heading back to base. Over.”

Heechul shifts on the bed, hiding a yawn. “Okay, wake me up when something happens then. This is boring.”

Donghae just sighs, spending the next few minutes listening idly for the sounds of voices in the hallway. The house is large enough to swallow most of the noise, but it’s enough to distract Donghae from the feeling of Heechul’s annoyance.

It’s not much longer after that - he feels a third presence, something not hard to filter out as separate from Heechul’s energy. It’s easy to tune into her after that - Yeong-Ja, the same energy he’d felt from her earlier.

“Hi, Yeong-Ja,” Donghae says, putting a finger to his lips when Heechul sits up abruptly. He gestures for him to pick up the camcorder again. “Do you remember me from earlier?”

It’s habit to pause after asking a question, ostensibly to make an EVP easier to hear should the audio recorder pick one up. But Heechul snorts and says, “You really expect an answer?”

“Shh,” Donghae reminds him. Heechul gives a pretty obnoxious eye-roll, but the recording indicator light is on again, so Donghae doesn't push it.

“Yeong-Ja, do you think you can stay and play for a bit? Ryeowook isn’t here, I’m sorry about that, but he needs to sleep right now. But I have a game I want to play if you are comfortable.” He pauses again, holding his breath without realizing, but Yeong-Ja doesn’t disappear this time, and the caution from earlier is not present. He could be sensing curiosity, but he could also be projecting. She’s still weak.

Leaning forward, he passes his hand in front of the K2 meter. All of the little red LEDs light up, then dim again once the movement stops. “See these lights? They can’t hurt you. Do you think you can make them light up for me? It’s easy.” He waves his hand again to demonstrate.

They wait. Her presence is still there, but it’s hard to detect, and now Donghae is having to filter out both annoyance and skepticism from Heechul. He looks across at him. Heechul has the camera trained on the K2 meter, but he doesn’t look impressed.

“Heechul,” Donghae says quietly, “Say hi.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No.”

Heechul stares at Donghae for a minute longer, then flicks a hand through his fringe in annoyance and sighs. “Hi, Yoeng-Ja, I’m Heechul. This is stupid, I’m talking to thin air.”

“Don’t worry about him. Do you think you can try? Just one light is all I need.”

Another second or two later, and the first LED begins to flicker weakly.

“Ah, good job! What about the second light? Can you get that one?”

The first one flickers again, but only briefly. The two of them wait in the silence. Just as Donghae is about to give up, thinking maybe she is just too weak to generate a signal, the lights flicker again - the first LED much more strongly than before, and the second LED as well.

“Okay, thank you. How about we play a game then? I’ll ask a question, and you can light up one for yes, two for no. Do you want to try?”

The first light flares. Donghae glances quickly at Heechul. The camera is still trained on the dresser, but Heechul’s expression is a little pinched.

“Yeong-Ja, how old are you? Are you older than ten?” It takes a moment, but two LEDs flare to life. “Older than five?” One. With couple more questions he determines that Yeong-Ja is eight, or was eight when she died.

“Does Ryeowook play nicely with you?” One light. “Ah, that’s good. Are you okay with us being here? Me and Heechul, and the others?” The longest pause yet passes, but the first LED does light up.

A moment of confusion follows for Donghae, a pulse of aggravation that doesn’t make sense given the spirit’s energy. But then Heechul says, “What is this proving?” and the edge to his voice gives him away. “They’re just lights. I mean, it’s cool, but you already assume there’s a ghost here, so why bother?”

“Don’t listen to Heechul,” Donghae says, “He doesn’t believe you’re real.”

He’s joking - he says it mostly for Heechul’s benefit. But the LEDs all light up at once for a brief moment, and even Heechul is left staring at them. For a moment, Donghae loses Yeoung-Ja altogether; her presence flickers like the lights and comes back weaker than before.

“You’re making her anxious,” he warns. “Tell her I’m wrong.”

“What?”

“Tell her you believe in her. It’s been a long time since she’s felt like her existence matters.”

Heechul huffs out a sigh, but complies. “Okay, you’re real, I’m sorry.”

It’s the worst excuse of an apology, but Donghae finds himself laughing into his shoulder. Incredibly, this strengthens Yeong-Ja, so he laughs even harder until even Heechul is cracking a bemused smile.

“Alright, Yeong-Ja, just a few more questions. Are you alone here?”

Two lights hold steady for nearly three seconds. No, she’s not alone. But Donghae knew that already. “Ryeowook says you have to hide sometimes.” Two lights. “Yeong-Ja, this other presence, does it use you? Does it make you tired?”

The single LED light shines in the darkness. The room is silent, and Yeong-Ja’s presence is slipping away from him by the second, but he has to ask. “Okay. One more question, I know you’re tired. Are you afraid?”

A pause - then machine goes crazy. All of the lights flicker on and off, then begin lighting up one-by-one and dimming again in quick succession until the pattern of lights becomes random, some bright and some dim, like an energy surge fizzling out. By the time the lights have all gone out and stay that way, the only presence Donghae can detect in the room is Heechul’s. They both stare at each other, Heechul’s eyes a little wide, which Donghae does not point out.

“Was that recording?” he asks quietly. Heechul checks the camcorder and nods.

“Okay,” Donghae says, checking his watch. “End of session, 1:14 AM.”

-

They trail through the dark hallways back to the kitchen, Leeteuk feeling a bit deflated as he follows Kangin’s footsteps. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit some part of him had been hoping they’d get all of this over with in one night. He’s tired of feeling this way in his own home, guilt pinning him down.

It’s brighter in the kitchen thanks to all the monitors and a lantern-style flashlight, which Leeteuk thinks might be throwing too many shadows on the walls, but they’re not monitoring the kitchen anyway. Kyuhyun’s eyes are glued to one of the screens, but Sungmin looks up as they enter, flashing them an encouraging smile.  

“Hyukjae hyung,” Kyuhyun says without looking up, “Looks like things are going well.”

“Session is still ongoing?” Hyukjae moves around the table to peer at the monitor Kyuhyun is watching.

“He’s getting some activity.”

Leeteuk shoots a look at Kangin, who meets his eye. He feels a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders.

“How are the kids?” Leeteuk directs the question at Sungmin.

“Haven’t heard a peep.”

“Is it alright if I check on them?”

Hyukjae nods, gesturing with a little shoo-ing motion. “We’re going to let Donghae finish the K2 session, go ahead. Tell them thanks for being so quiet.”

He agrees and then ducks into the hallway. The kids are in the office next door, hopefully asleep, but when he eases the door open and pokes his head inside, all four flashlights are on. Kibum sees him first, and he’s the only one to look abashed to be caught awake. Only Ryeowook is asleep, curled up beside Shindong’s folded legs. There’s a mess of mattresses and pillows in the center of the room, just like it had been in the common room when the whole family had been avoiding sleeping in separate bedrooms.

“You guys holding up okay?” Leeteuk asks, foregoing any scolding. He gets a couple of vague nods; Shindong and Yesung don’t even bother to look up, noses stuck in manhwa. There are more of the books scattered around. “Where did those come from?”

“Heechul hyung gave them to us,” Kibum says with a shrug. “They’re really cool.”

He comes fully into the room at that, bending to pick up one of the manhwa and glances quickly through the images. It looks safe, thank god, because who knows what kind of things Heechul might think are appropriate for children?

“Did you see any ghosts?” Shindong abandons his book in favor of staring at Leeteuk with huge eyes.

“No, we didn’t see any ghosts,” Leeteuk chuckles. Shindong actually seems disappointed, which strikes him as odd. He’d think that Shindong would be a little more afraid after what he had… experienced. Although that might be the exact reason he’s interested. Know thy enemy, and all that. Leeteuk takes a moment to feel proud. “I’ll let you all know if anything happens, don’t worry.”

“Donghae hyung can see ghosts, right?” Kibum asks.

“That’s why he’s here, yep.”

“Cool!”

He’s only known Donghae for a couple of days, but Leeteuk doesn’t think ‘cool’ is a way he would describe his clairvoyance. Still, he’s relieved that his kids are putting on a brave face; if nothing else, he can thank Donghae and Hyukjae for that.

Yesung turns to him, eyes like saucers, and says, “Can he read our minds?”

Leeteuk laughs a little too loudly at that and shakes his head, assuring Yesung that no, Donghae isn’t a mind reader. Although he does have to wonder about that himself, sometimes. Donghae has a way of looking at people like he can see right through them. More than once, Leeteuk has caught himself worrying if Donghae does know what’s going on inside his head. His reactions to what Leeteuk is feeling can be downright uncanny.

“Well, I just wanted to check in on you. Don’t - I mean, try to get some sleep tonight, okay?”

He gets a chorus of mumbled “Yeahhh”s in reply; he’d stopped himself just short of telling them not to stay up too late. He’s aware that they’re nervous, no matter how nonchalant they’re acting, and he can hardly blame them for not being able to sleep. Everyone’s going to be sleeping through most of the morning, anyway.

Back in the kitchen, everyone is still crowded around the monitors, muttering quietly. Hyukjae points at one of the screens and Kyuhyun says something Leeteuk doesn’t catch, but beside him, Sungmin yawns.

“Everything alright?” Kangin asks, sidling up beside him.

“They’re awake, but they’re doing fine. What’s going on here?” Leeteuk jerks his head toward the others.

“No idea, checking camera setup or something?”

They both turn at the sound of footsteps and Donghae enters the kitchen with a oddly quiet Heechul in tow.

“Hey,” says Hyukjae, standing from where he’s been leaning over Kyuhyun’s shoulder. “How’d it go?”

“It went well. Yeong-Ja was very cooperative, and had a lot more energy than I expected.”

Leeteuk’s thoughts are still forming around that - Yeong-Ja, whom he had previously assumed to be Ryeowook’s imaginary friend, being talked about like she’s as real as any of them; it’s not that he doesn’t believe Donghae - not after all he’s seen in the past few weeks - but it’s a lot to take in. He doesn’t have a chance to let the idea of it settle before Heechul is interrupting his thoughts.

“Yeah, we had a nice chat with the nightstand.” He smirks, but the room grows silent. Donghae blinks at him, unfazed, and it dims the strength of Heechul’s smirk.

“She confirmed the second presence,” Donghae tells Hyukjae, and everyone seems to take that as a cue to ignore Heechul. The creak of the fridge being shut draws Leeteuk’s attention to where Kangin must have paused while browsing for a late-night refresher, probably waiting to see if he needs to kick Heechul out or not. He catches Leeteuk’s eye and Leeteuk shrugs.

“She tries to hide from it,” Donghae is saying, “and she’s scared.”

Something passes between him and Hyukjae then, a silent conversation that Leeteuk can’t translate.

“So it worked? We have proof?” Kangin interjects, and Leeteuk wishes he were still standing beside him so he could step on his foot.

Donghae is shaking his head. “It’s not the proof we need. It has to be undeniable, and it has to come from the demonic presence itself.”

“Basically, nobody’s going to believe some flashing lights.”

“I’ll show you flashing lights,” Kyuhyun mutters darkly from his place at the table. Heechul turns to him, mouth open in retort, but Leeteuk cuts him off before he can make things worse.

“Kim Heechul, if you can’t take this seriously - “

“He’s fine.”

Leeteuk snaps his mouth shut, turning to Donghae. One of his hands is on Hyukjae’s elbow, seemingly holding him back; Leeteuk can see the muscles work in his jaw.. “He’s a good control. Kyuhyun, please don’t bait him?”

Kyuhyun just snorts, but Heechul flops down at the table with a put-upon sigh. “Maybe it was a big coincidence how that thing blinked at us at just the right moments. Maybe not. But Donghae already told me you can’t prove it either way.”

“I did tell him that,” Donghae says, blinking. “The K2 meter isn’t reliable enough to act as proof. If Yeong-Ja were here on her own, you wouldn’t even know about her, she wouldn’t be a problem. She’s only this strong because she’s being used by the demon.”

“So it’s a demon for sure,” Leeteuk has to ask, pulse feeling sluggish.

Donghae gives him one of those long looks, the kind that makes Leeteuk wish he could put all of his secrets behind a locked door. “Yes,” he says firmly. “We need proof. It needs to be taken care of now.”

“Infestation,” Hyukjae adds, and then to Donghae he says: “I think we should bait it.”

“Tonight?”

“No point in waiting.”

“Okay, woah, what are we doing?” Kangin asks, watching Hyukjae cross the room to where they’d stashed their bags of equipment and start to rifle through them.

“I haven’t.. we haven’t gotten any sign of the other presence tonight aside from Yeong-Ja. We’re going to have to make this thing angry, try and draw it out.” Donghae supplies.

He feels vaguely unsettled every time Yeong-Ja’s name is mentioned, but Leeteuk isn’t sure why. It’s probably guilt for assuming she wasn’t real, but … he taps impatiently at the side of his thigh, watching Hyukjae return with a handful of things that look an awful lot like crucifixes. He shoves something into his pocket, then hands Kangin a simple chain with a small pendant on the end. Then he hands one out to Leeteuk, who takes it and examines the pendant. It’s a small circular medallion with the image of someone he wouldn’t be able to name on one side, a cross on the other, and scattered words in what must be Latin. Kangin drapes his around his neck, but Leeteuk finds himself biting at his cheeks in discomfort. He drops the chain and medallion into his back pocket instead.

“Those medallions will either protect you guys or piss it off even more,” Hyukjae says wryly, “I’m sorry that I can’t promise it either way.”

He doesn’t give anything to Donghae, but Leeteuk notices the small beads of a rosary wrapped around his hand and wrist. He’d noticed them trailing out of his pocket earlier, but now Donghae bears it like a bracelet.

It hits him suddenly: why Yeong-Ja makes him feel wrong-footed; off-balance. “How long has she been here?” he asks without thinking, and even Kyuhyun looks up from the computer to look at him. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” says Donghae after a moment of silence, and Hyukjae mutters, “Nothing good.”

“She said she was afraid,” Heechul pipes in. The stares turn in his direction, and slowly Heechul realizes that he’s just treated the situation like it’s real after all. He scowls, then returns to tapping at his phone like he’d been doing for the past five minutes.

“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s been here since around the turn of the century. It’s most likely that when renovations started on this house, activity kicked up. It’s possible that she died of illness, of course, but anything demonic in nature needs a way in, and the door’s normally opened through tragedy.” Donghae sounds like he’s reading out of a textbook; Leeteuk imagines it’s a pretty good way of distancing himself from the situation. He wishes he could do the same. “When something terrible happens, it leaves a wound. The demon here was most likely attracted to it, and Yeong-Ja was easy to exploit.”

“What happens if we get rid of it?”

“Freedom.” The word sounds so light when Hyukjae says it. Freedom.

“So we provoke it, get evidence, then what? You guys exorcise it?” Kangin asks.

“Not us, no. Only priests can exorcise it, and only one unordained person has ever been given permission to perform an exorcism. And, no, that’s not us,” Hyukjae says with a laugh. “But we’ve got an ordained friend on stand-by who normally does exorcisms for us. As soon as we get approval from the vatican we’re good to go. But we need evidence first. And so: we make it angry.” He hefts a wooden crucifix for emphasis, and he looks way too eager for Leeteuk’s tastes.

“Did you take readings of the common room?” Donghae asks, and Hyukjae deflates a little.

“No, you’re right, we should do that first. Kangin, Leeteuk, maybe you two can get readings of the perimeter hallway? Heechul, you can join us if you want.”

“Hm?” Heechul doesn’t look up from his phone. “Oh, nah, just get me when the good stuff starts.”

Hyukjae shrugs and Leeteuk goes to collect the EMF reader they’d been using earlier. It’s nearing 2 am now and he wants to get this over with. He steadily ignores his nerves. Success means seeing things he isn’t sure he’s willing to see again, but he thinks about his kids all huddled up in the next room over, and follows Kangin back out into the hallway.

-

“The numbers are fine.” Hyukjae’s holding the device above his head, as if he’ll be able to find pockets of higher EMF around the room if he just looks hard enough, but it’s fluctuating between a low point 4 and point 5 milligauss.

Donghae shrugs. “It’s not active. It’s just in this room. Background hum.” He’d felt something the moment they stepped into the common room, the same faint signature that’s been setting him off since they first arrived to this house. He almost wishes he hadn’t mentioned it now that Hyukjae’s feeling frustrated at not being able to measure it, but... it’s necessary. Donghae wishes there were numbers he could assign to what he feels, some system  that science could explain or that Hyukjae could better understand. But there’s no real way to describe why Donghae feels uneasy in the common room; it’s not a clear sense of anything paranormal, it’s just a wrongness. He wants to shake it off like water.

Hyukjae places the EMF reader gently on the table in front of the couch alongside the audio recorder and handheld camera. His fingers hover over the recorder for a moment as if he’s going to… Donghae isn’t sure; shut it off, maybe? He has blocked Hyukjae’s energy out entirely, as it’s been too hard to concentrate around the gentle hum of anxiety he’s been carrying around all night. Hyukjae glances back at him, then moves away from the recorder and picks up the camera instead.

Not every conversation is good to have on tape. Kyuhyun listens to nearly all of them, and if anything paranormal picks up in the background... well, they can have important conversations later. Hyukjae holds the camera out to Donghae like a question, and Donghae takes it with a smile, mouthing I’m okay as he does. Hyukjae just nods.

“We’re all finished,” comes Kangin’s voice from behind them. Donghae looks over his shoulder and sees Leeteuk walking in behind him, still looking a bit pale, but steady.

“Anything interesting?” Hyukjae asks.

“Nah. Anything in here?”

“Nothing we can measure.” Hyukjae makes a vague hand-wave in Donghae’s direction and the others just nod.

Donghae blocks their energies out too. He fiddles with the camera, making extra certain that the battery is full and there’s plenty of data left on the card even though Kyuhyun had double-checked all the equipment before they even started. He glances up briefly when Heechul sidles into the room, but lets Hyukjae handle the reminders for him to just watch if he can. Donghae isn’t worried. Kim Heechul is not on his list of things to worry about tonight.

Hyukjae sets the crucifixes around the room. Donghae follows him with the camcorder, documenting their placement so they can verify later on whether or not they get moved around during the session. He takes a moment to scan the room, proof of who is with them and where everyone is standing, and finally sets himself apart from the group so that he can easily monitor the room with the camera. Hyukjae squares his shoulders and Donghae unconsciously makes a tighter loop in the rosary he’s got wrapped around his hand.

“Common room, 2:04 a.m.,” Hyukjae starts. “Donghae is video recording. Separate running audio for this room can be linked to this timestamp. Also present are myself, Hyukjae; Leeteuk, Kangin, and Heechul. Provocation.”

Hyukjae glances back over his shoulder, which Donghae sees through the camcorder’s display. He gestures with his free hand for Hyukjae to continue.

“We know you’re here,” he starts in an icy voice. “And we know you’re hiding, but hey, we don’t blame you. You sure as hell picked the wrong family.”

Donghae doesn’t like this part. Not because of anything paranormal or demonic, at this point in his life there isn’t much that can truly unsettle him beyond… beyond what he’s already experienced. He just doesn’t like the cold, mocking tone Hyukjae uses in this kind of situation. It’s not fake - he’s not putting on a show. It’s more like he’s willing to let his mouth run him straight into danger just to get a response. To push back.

“Kind of a waste of our time, right Hae?” Hyukjae continues. He doesn’t expect a response from Donghae and he doesn’t get one. “We come all the way out here and the damn thing is afraid of us. Afraid of what he can’t win. Ashamed.”

The others are practically holding their breath - even Hyukjae seems to be, during the pauses in his words - but there’s no response.

“We’ve dealt with your kind before. You know that, right? Listen, just give it up. How low are you in the order? Fifth? Lower? Looks like you’re going to have to make a choice. Who are you more afraid of? Your filthy friends, or the Father?”

Donghae glances quickly at the crucifixes on the mantle; usually mentioning a deity will get some response, even the involuntary kind, but nothing happens. He’s getting nothing. Kangin makes no indication that the EMF readings have gone up, so he doesn’t have much hope for any of the other equipment. Donghae watches the screen on his video camera, zoning out for a minute. Hyukjae is making small steps around the room and longer pauses in between his questions; a brief flicker in the shadows beyond the far entryway drags Donghae’s attention away from him.

He looks up over the camera’s screen and squints out into the hall, trying to decide if he’d actually seen something or if his tired eyes are messing with him. Well, if anything, the camera caught it.

On the tail end of Hyukjae’s next question, he hears it - laughter. He holds his breath, waiting. Nobody else reacts to the sound. Then it happens again. It’s unmistakably a giggle, high-pitched like a child’s voice, and the moment he realizes this, Donghae drops all of his filters. Heechul’s boredom and Kangin’s curiosity are easily pushed aside; Leeteuk’s anxiety is a bit harder. Hyukjae’s energy is just screaming at him like it always does when they’re in the field, but it’s still familiar enough that he doesn’t have to work hard at pushing that do the back of his head. And, yes, there beneath everyone in the room, fluttering and weak, he recognizes Yeong-Ja.

“Hyukjae,” he says lowly, feeling all eyes turn to him. “It’s the child.”

Hyukjae doesn’t miss a beat. “Who forgot to tell me we were playing hide and seek? Are you hiding well?”

Donghae has to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling. The tone of his voice had changed from mocking and bitter to a higher, more playful tone in an instant, and the whole atmosphere is lighter for it. It’s exactly how Hyukjae sounds when playing around with a giggly Ara, and it seems to be working. Yeong-Ja’s presence is even stronger than before.

“Listen, Yeong-Ja, the safe house is in here, okay? Do you think you can reach it before I find you?”

And there it is again, the flash of movement in the shadows of the entryway. It’s followed up by the sound of small feet running down the hall; Donghae turns his attention to the east side entryway and his heart leaps into his throat: she runs past. Taller than he expected, but still small and slight, long braided hair flopping against her back as she disappears from sight.

Quickly, he turns to the next entryway. He can still hear her giggles, but nothing passes through the corridor. Donghae hurries over and peers around the frame into the dark, empty passage. He thinks a bit dumbly about how much she looked like a ghost, the flash of white skirt and white socked feet in his memory of her.

“Did you see her?” Hyukjae asks. When Donghae turns back around, four sets of eyes are staring at him.

“Yeah. Just the once.”

“Did you get it on camera?”

Donghae looks down. The camera is still in his hand, but he realizes with a sinking feeling that he hadn’t even remembered it was there. “Um. Maybe?”

“Okay, that’s okay. Is she still here?”

She is here somewhere, so Donghae nods even though he doubts she’ll have enough energy to manifest again. He raises the camera and trains it once again on Hyukjae, who continues his line of questioning.

“How much time do I have left? Hey, Donghae’s not playing, you know. You can still tag the safe house. Want to try?”

A light blinks on the viewfinder. Donghae has only a moment to comprehend that his battery life is suddenly down to a quarter full and then it’s full again - there’s a frantic beeping sound from across the room where Kangin is holding the EMF meter - the camera’s light shines brighter until it goes out with a small pop - the low battery warning sounds off, one long high pitched note. The little red symbol flashes once, twice - and then the camera dies completely.

“,” Donghae mutters at the same time as he hears Kyuhyun call out from the kitchen.

In a few moments Kyuhyun is standing in the doorway, his urgent voice saying, “It’s all shut down, the power is completely drained.”

“What’s going on?” asks Kangin as Hyukjae turns, grim-faced, to meet Donghae’s eyes.

Before he has the chance to respond, there is a sudden, searing pain on the heel of his left hand - it’s the little metal crucifix of the rosary he’s had twisted up in his fingers and wrist, red-hot where it rests against the skin. He curses more loudly this time, nearly dropping the camera in his other hand, but he manages to untangle the rosary enough that the crucifix drops clear of his skin. ing the camera at Hyukjae, Donghae drops the rest of the rosary to the floor, hissing as the wound already begins to blister.

“Kyuhyun, check on the kids,” Hyukjae says in a remarkably steady voice, holding Donghae gingerly by the wrist to examine the wound. Donghae assumes Kyuhyun follows directions, but he’s a little distracted by the pain and the distant, ashy feeling of whatever presence has decided to make itself known. He feels so stupid because of course, of course, he should have known: Yeong-Ja had exhausted herself earlier, it wouldn’t make sense for her to be able to manifest if she weren’t being amplified by the damn thing they were trying to provoke in the first place. There comes a thump and rattle from the other side of the room, making them both look up.

Leeteuk has bumped into the low table, knocking the recording devices off the edge. “What’s happened?” he says, an edge of panic in his voice, arms outstretched. Donghae can’t really comprehend what the issue is. The air in the room seems thin and he realizes that he’s shivering, the skin on his palm still stinging and even the healthy skin around the wound is sensitive to Hyukjae’s gentle fingers. He pulls out of his grasp unsteadily. Across the way, Kangin has grabbed onto Leeteuk’s outstretched arms and Leeteuk is struggling, a complete, hysteric panic in his voice as he continues to ask what’s going on, why can’t he see, what’s that sound.. ? His energy is loud, pushing through Donghae’s filter, outright panic and a strange, static interruption that is making his head hurt and his senses tangled up to the point that he can’t tell if his actual sight is blurry or if he’s confusing that kind of vision with his other -

The overhead lights flick on.

Everything comes to a complete stop. Even Leeteuk calms and stops fighting Kangin’s hold; Donghae feels warm again, the oppressive constriction of his skin gone so suddenly that he’s only aware it had been happening until he could breathe. Heechul is staring at them all with wide eyes from the east wall, hand still on the lightswitch.

A moment’s pause as everybody takes stock of the situation.The pain in Donghae’s hand throbs to the beat of his pulse.

“I’m calling it a night,” says Hyukjae. Nobody argues.

-

Hyukjae is absolutely wide awake, despite the exhaustion he seems to feel in his bones. They’re silent as they leave the common room, Heechul wandering off towards the office to be with the kids when he notices Kyuhyun has left. Hyukjae is the last to file into the kitchen, right behind Donghae, and immediately he steers the other toward the sink. He turns on the cold water tap for him and Donghae gingerly holds his burned hand under the faucet.

“They’re all fine,” Kyuhyun is reassuring the others, “Three of them are asleep and the older kid said he heard us, but is okay.”

Kangin nods and thanks him, but Leeteuk is pale and withdrawn.

“Kyu, are we back online?” Hyukjae asks as he leans against the sink.

Kyuhyun is already back behind the monitors, leaning across Sungmin to click around on the computers. “Power’s back, yeah. I’ll check the camera you guys had in there; Sungmin, can you see if any of the cameras in the other rooms stopped recording?”

Donghae turns off the tap, still holding his palm flat. Hyukjae idly wonders where the rosary went. Donghae must have dropped it back there. They’ll have to get Siwon to take a look, see if it’s worth cleansing or if it gets locked up.

Tugging gently on Donghae’s sleeve, he leads him to the bench on the empty side of the table; he sits easily at the slightest pressure from Hyukjae on his shoulders.

“Leeteuk, what about you? You okay?” Hyukjae asks, simultaneously lifting Donghae’s hand to get a better look at the burn. Donghae shakes his head slightly, probably answering the question in Leeteuk’s stead.

“Jungsoo-ya, what happened in there?” Kangin asks lowly.

The palm of Donghae’s hand had blistered so quickly, the patch of red skin is outlined in the shape of the crucifix. He tries not to think of it too hard, setting his teeth against the moment of anger that wells up in his chest. “I’ll get the first-aid kit,” he murmurs. Donghae shoots him a small, distracted smile in response.

“I - it didn’t… happen to you? Nobody else?” Leeteuk is saying. Hyukjae rifles through the bags until he finds the large kit, trying to remember how to treat burns. They should have gotten water on it sooner, but they were kind of distracted.

“No, it didn’t.” Hyukjae catches sight of Kangin’s expression when he walks back around the table; it probably mirrors his own.

“I couldn’t see,” Leeteuk explains. “I didn’t hear anything either. It really didn’t happen to anyone else?”

“The lights were already out, Teuk, all the cameras went dead and you started to panic, that was it.”

From the look on Donghae’s face, that’s not all that happened, but he stays quiet about it so Hyukjae doesn’t mention. He lifts Donghae’s hand by the wrist, noting that it’s shaking slightly. He tries to be as gentle as he can and dabs aloe against the shiny, red skin, but he can feel slight resistance as Donghae fights to stay still.

“Donghae saw the little girl, I remember that, but then… something... I don’t know. It was cold and I couldn’t see and it felt.. felt…”

He stops trying to explain, just goes quiet, and in the corner of his eye Hyukjae can see Kangin hovering close. He gives them a moment, returning his focus to Donghae.

“Relax, Hyuk,” Donghae says quietly. Hyukjae huffs out a sigh. He thought he’d been acting pretty calm. Sometimes he wishes it were actually possible to hide his feelings - for Donghae’s sake, if not his own.

“It wasn’t targeted at me,” Donghae goes on, “the crucifix was an easy target. It could have been anybody.”

Hyukjae switches out the aloe for burn cream. “Sure, but it happened to you this time.”

Donghae just sighs quietly. Kyuhyun announces that everything seems to be in order, the only time lost was less than two minutes. Everything before the power outage is in tact, which Hyukjae is grateful for, but they can worry about what footage was caught in the common room later.

“Someone explain this to me,” Kangin says. “One second we’re looking for the little girl, who is supposed to be harmless, and then all of this happened. What was that?”

“It was proving itself,” Hyukjae interrupts, guilt washing over him and then away. He can’t dwell on that. He can’t blame himself for what the damn thing does. But he can still worry about Leeteuk, he can still be angry that all of Donghae’s concentration right now seems to be focused on not snatching his hand back or hissing through his teeth in pain. “And no, that’s not what we expected to happen. It used Yeong-Ja for strength and… posturing. That’s all it was doing. Proving that it’s not weak and not willing to go anywhere.”

The burn only needs a loose dressing, but it still takes longer than it should. He’s probably more careful than he needs to be, wrapping gauze loosely to protect the blisters. The cream must have helped a little, because Donghae stops flinching at the feather-light touches. Hyukjae tapes it closed at the wrist. Donghae lowers it to his lap, still unwilling to curl his hand closed.

“Thank you, Hyukjae,” he says quietly. Hyukjae brushes away his fringe and presses a kiss onto his forehead.

“This worked then, right?” Kangin sounds hopeful. “If that was caught on camera, it should be enough proof?”

“Personal experiences aren’t proof enough, and if we managed to catch Yeong-Ja’s manifestation it’s only evidence of her. Not of the demon. What we need is evidence that it’s negatively affecting humans.”

“And Leeteuk’s experience just now doesn’t count? What about his hand?” Kangin gestures to Donghae, but he’s hardly paying attention at this point and doesn’t respond, idly playing with the edges of the gauze wrap.

“We’ll send the footage along to strengthen our argument, but honestly, I don’t think it’s going to be enough. We know now that it’s not shy about stealing energy when it needs to, but it did take all the equipment, heat from the air, and what was left of Yeong-Ja’s strength to do what it did tonight.”

“So, instead of the girl, we need the demon to manifest?”

“It just did. We don’t see demons physically. Not even Donghae sees them physically. What we need is a clear indication that it’s not going to stop here, that it intends to use more than just a little girl’s spirit.”

“Where is she now, do you think?” Leeteuk pipes in, looking like he’s finally collected himself. “Yeong-Ja?”

Hyukjae shrugs. “Back to wherever she goes when she wants to hide, I guess.”

“Like hide and seek.”

Hyukjae nods. A game of hide and seek she probably desperately wants to win. Not likely a physical place, but caught somewhere in between. He and Donghae have seen a lot of things, but never an in between.

Well, he thinks, looking down at Donghae and his far-away gaze, maybe Donghae has seen it after all.

“She goes wherever she feels the safest, but that place is usually also at the center of activity. It’s more accessible to her, but the demon has likely found a way to exploit that.” He pauses, uncertain.“The heart of the house.”

“Is that the common room, then?”

Hyukjae considers what just happened in there along with the way Donghae has been insisting that there’s unmeasurable activity going on, and he’s about to tell Kangin that he’s probably correct, but Donghae speaks first. He’s surprised that he’d been even listening. He speaks quietly, but clearly.

“This house has many hearts.”

-

Next time: [haunting intensifies]

Also: that last line is an homage to one of my favorite movies, guess whiiiiich ~