People watching.

By Alpha.

Here's some prose that I promised you! It isn't exactly brilliant, but it keeps me entertained. But before reading any further, I'd like to make a few points - this is part of my own story I'm writing about grave robbers from the future. Basically, earths been really messed up, and so, stealing dead bodies of old humans, their historians have decided that if they can prevent certain events, they can stop the earth from being destroyed. These are the best two people in the business, having been the first people re- animated to turn out more or less human (lots of mistakes in the past, I'll get onto that in a different story). Unfortunately, they picked a teenage suicide and a workaholic cop to raise from the dead. I think most of the rest of the story can be picked up from this.

But if you wish to ignore this paragraph at the top, interpret this how you want.

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"Elspeth! C'mon!" hissed Homer, "It's cold and I want to get back home! Hurry up!"

"Can I watch him for just two more minutes?" whined Elspeth, sitting up by the edge of the building, "just two more minutes?"

Homer, his coat flapping around and whipping his legs as they stood at the top of the building, watching the street rolled his eyes and slumping down next to her growled, "All right, but only two more!"

Elspeth smiled at him and punching the air cried out in elation. Homer rolled his eyes and looked over the crowd with her. "Which one is he?" he mumbled, the hair styling his hair so it flopped into his eyes.

Elspeth ran her hand through her stubbly short blond hair and pointing out to the crowd said, "That one, the one with the black hair!"

Homer pushing his hair out of his face looked at where Elspeth was pointing. He squinted and asked, "the one with the Blue coat?"

"No! The one in the black jacket!"

Homer squinted again. Then, leaning back he said, "What's so special about him? There's about a million people who look like him."

"So?" she replied, her fingernails digging into the concrete, "I think he's kinda cute."

"Please, never say that phrase again." Homer hissed, "It'!"

Elspeth grinned to herself, and lent further over the precipice of the building. "I wonder what he's got in that bag?" she whispered dreamily to herself, "I wonder why he's wearing that onyx pendant?"

"Well, considering the evidence, he obviously is wearing the pendant because he likes it, and the bag most likely has some depressing teen music in it!" said Homer, trying to wrap his coat around him, "C'mon! It's cold!"

But Elspeth didn't budge. "He looks down." She said, resting her head in a cup made by both her hands, "Like someone really hurt him once."

"Teenagers always look like that, it's the hormones." said Homer boredly.

"So do you think I look like that?" asked Elspeth angrily, not even bothering to turn around.

"You're not a teenager." Homer snapped, "You look like one, but the hormones ran out long ago."

"I am a teenager!" she stressed, "I haven't grown up, have I?"

"You're thirty years old! Just because you've had the ageing process slowed down, it doesn't mean that you have to act like one!"

"Well, why're you acting like an old man?!" Elspeth snapped back, "It'd do you some good to act your thoughts, maybe not. You'd probably be just the same."

"Forty seven isn't old!" replied Homer defensively.

"Homer, if it was the Middle Ages, you'd probably been dead before then!"

"What's that got to do with anything?!"

"Nothing!" Elspeth snapped, "Nothing! Go home yourself!"

Homer sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Neither of us have a home to speak of. Technically, we don't exist." Homer held his hand to his chest and scratched an itch. He suddenly stopped. He removed his hand, and saw a large, dark red patch appearing, blood blotted over his fingers. Damn, he thought, my old wounds bleeding again.

Elspeth, rubbing one of her bandaged arms closed her eyes, and opening them, kissed her free hand, and blew a kiss to the boy in the crowd.

"Kiss of dead, eh?" asked Homer jokingly.

"Homer, do you think they'll ever be a chance that we could ever go back, well, back down there?"

"The high street? Sure, we could get a coffee before we go back." Said Homer, taking off his coat and shirt. In the middle of his chest was a bullet wound, which looked as if it had just been shot, blood pouring out of it. Homer touched the scorched flesh, winced, but took out the first aid kit h had come accustomed to carrying everywhere from his coat pocket and finding some surgical tape and sterile cotton wool created a make-shift pressure bandage.

Then, cleaning himself up with a spare tissue, he watched Elspeth as she sat up, throwing her legs over the edge and sighing again. "No, I mean a normal life. I mean one where we can finish off our lives. I mean one where we don't always know what's going to happen, we don't know that every move we make is going to change the universe. One where we don't have to think about the best way to cause this event, or the best way to make sure that something else doesn't happen. It's not fair."

"Elle, how many times have I heard that one before?" he replied as he put his shirt back on, "What we've got is special. We've got a chance to live again, when we might have just have been given up on before. I mean, I could have been saved if help had come to the shooting earlier. You could have been saved if someone had realised that your father was a bastard. But it's the way things go. It's not much to pay for a second chance."

"That's easy for you to say, you've only got two more years service left, I've got six years left, and they haven't found a replacement for you."

"What about A.I.D.A?"

Elspeth snorted, "that stupid android! Any time it's turned on it either tries to kill someone or it's as helpful as a left-handed pasta rench! If that replaced you, I'm going on strike!"

"She's not that bad really," gasped Homer, applying pressure to his bleeding chest.

"It's not a 'she', it's an 'it'!" retorted Elspeth, eyes still on the black haired boy.

"Whatever, your two minutes are over young lady!" Homer stipulated, "Get up and we can get some coffee before we go back."

Elspeth turned around, looked rather angry until she saw his chest. Clamping her hand to her mouth and pointed she panicked "Homer, you're bleeding again!"

"No biggie." He replied, "It's not as if anyone killed me."

Elspeth raised her eyebrow to the exceedingly bad joke. Homer laughed at her expression. "We should probably better get going before your boy finds us or something."

"pah, no one noticed me when I was alive, being dead just makes me more invisible." She said, offering her hand to him. He took it, and tucking her bandaged arm into his own, holding onto his chest, he led her away.

But on the pavement below, a black haired boy in a long leather jacket looked up to the top of the mall, wondering if he had really seen a girl looking at him from up their. He sighed, ignored by the crowd, and walked off, wondering why she had looked just like the pastor's daughter before she'd died.

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I know, the endings crappy, but endings aren't my strong point.

Thank you, feel free to critique!