The Child who Could not Die

Click.

The door swung open.

Ed barely had time to process the movement before Zareth barreled in—fast, urgent, and completely oblivious to the fact that Ed had just stepped out of the bath.

Ed, clad in nothing but a towel, blinked.

"Uh—?"

Then it happened.

A small puddle of water near the entrance. Zareth's foot hit it at full speed.

Slip.

Crash.

"Gah—!"

Zareth went down hard—straight into Ed.

Ed barely had time to curse before both of them hit the floor, limbs tangled, the breath knocked out of him.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Oh! Sorry!"

A distinctly female voice.

The door slammed shut.

Ed froze.

No.

No, no, no—

Slowly, painfully, he turned his head.

"Zareth…" His voice was dangerously low.

Zareth, still sprawled across him, winced. "Uh…"

"Who. Was. That?"

Zareth hesitated. Then sighed. "…My sister."

Ed's stomach dropped.