Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ghosts.

Arthur had dealt with them for ages. Or rather, he'd been harassed by them for ages.

When he was little, he played with a neighbor's dog when his homework was done. Said dog had been run over a week earlier. He accidentally made the neighbor's boy cry when he asked why it kept coming over. When he was older, there was an apparition that hung around his locker. Made it smell like cigarettes and cynicism. When he bought his house, he also found it had some sort of spirit. Never saw its face, but it always made the shower a smidge too cold and on occasion made his slippers damp in the morning.

Arthur had never had a particularly 'good' life, but even he couldn't believe it when his house was demolished almost overnight for some overpass. He barely had time to collect his clothes and a few books. At least the government paid him a small sum. It was then, looking at the muddy splotch that used to be his house (and yet with no sign of that damned shower culprit), that he made a decision. A stupid decision, a rash, unprecedented, utterly loony decision.

He moved to America. New York. The heart of NYC.

Perhaps a more bustling city instead of rolling hills was what he needed. Arthur was not happy, but not surprised to find the supernatural attraction had followed. The problem was that it was worse.

But, there was a silver lining. He saw this advertisement on the telly the other day. He looked into it, and surprisingly, they had a success rate. They had a record. And they were hiring.

He could do something about the ghosts.

Chapter Text

Tricia was never supposed to be in America, let alone New York. She was never supposed to be on this planet, for that matter. But that alien wanker had dumped her and didn’t even bother with the right landmass. She didn’t even have cabfare, let alone the funds to get home.

And so, with no other choice, Tricia McMillan got to work.

She found some jobs. Terrible jobs, but they paid something. She got an apartment in Brooklyn, charming her way to a riverfront view. She started saving. She tried to make connections, but she didn’t look for friends. That was the hardest part of trying to get home. It was on a particularly sour day, the type of day where it was hard for her not to punch the elevator from what she had to deal with, that she accidentally met someone in the elevator.

“Life screwing you over too, eh?”

Tricia looked over, giving a long-suffering sigh. She hadn’t really been paying attention to anyone in the complex, so she couldn’t remember if she’d seen this woman before, but… Oh, what the hell? She looked as miffed as she was, though she wore it better under her catty gaze and red pixie cut. “God, you wouldn’t believe what I’m dealing with,” Tricia complained, “I shouldn’t even be here.” The other woman smirked. “Honey, I’ve watched this town get wrecked by a giant marshmallow man and the Statue of Liberty walk down the street. Whatever you’ve got goin’ on, it can’t be worse than what I deal with.”

That got Tricia to smile a bit, and she decided she liked this lady then. As elevator bitching turned to hallway discussions, then to nights at the bar, things weren’t easier, but they were lighter. Sure, she was still stuck far from home with nothing but a deadend job, but it could be worse. She could be working Janine’s job.