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Pushing Daisies (M—Ned)


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(Right out of the pan and into the fire I’m Warning you now that there is implied gore as well as let’s just say gore— you can’t really have reanimation without it— I looooooved this tv show and I saw a comment about a necromancer’s ability going a bit haywire and that buried crush on the timid looking Pie Maker Lee Pace portrayed was disinterred XD — Ned from Pushing Daisies was revived— I remember excitedly waiting for him to sneeze cause I mean damn did he have a few almost sneezy facial expressions and when the series ended and that possibility — well =/ — this is straight from the hip shooting no binging refresher cause I’m impulsive like that— some search of course cause I’m not a complete dunce- hope you like it— if not hope I didn’t ruin the characters or show for ya!!😬


Ned shivered, telling himself that it was the frigid air of the morgue and not the overall body ache that had started a few days ago that had cause the body wracking chill, as well his nose to run, which he quickly sniff away, again. 

“Let’s see Who pushed Humpty-Dumpty down the stairs and get out of here.” Emerson Cod had seen the Pie Maker shudder but ignored commenting on it and prolonging this any longer then he absolutely had to. Besides, he was a gumshoe after all and even if he wasn’t Ned’s pinkish nose and all the goddamn sniffling gave it away. Emerson has picked up his Freelancer from ‘the Pie Hole’ and filled him in over the continual wet sniffs.

When Emerson didn’t comment a microscopic bit of tension eased out of Ned’s shoulders. Nodding he gripped the black bag with one hand, zipper in the other and tugged. 

“Guh,” he grimaced. 

Emerson leaned over to look, his own facial expression reshaping to mildly mirror the Pie Maker’s.

Ned zipped a bit farther and gagged, immediately re-zipping.

“Okay,” he said with a grunt, wincing as it escalated the soreness in his throat. Raising his wrist he started the stopwatch on his wrist the race against time and then quickly tapped the forehead inside the bag. He couldn’t really describe what his power felt like, or how it worked but one he suppose could compare it to his finger being like a stone dropped into water, and the following ripples emitted a wave of reviving light through the deceased. 

The bag wiggled. “Wh-Wha-hh ha-in?”

Confusion. He didn’t have time to answer questions, barely had time to ask them himself and get answers. “Long story short: you’re dead,” Emerson pointed to Ned.

Ned paused itching his nose with against his wrist, heat filling he cheeks as he gave a weak wave with his free hand. 

Pointing back to himself, “We’re avenging angels and we need to know who killed you so we can you know avenge you, uh,” Emerson stole a glance at his notepad, “Mr. Mitock.” He’d learned in the beginning to never tell the ‘formerly deceased’ that they were alive again because they spent the minute bargaining, or praising Ned like a deity. Overall making HIS questioning impossible. But coming off as justice seekers, which he was with the right rewarding motivation of course, now that got their attention. 


Dewayne Mitock strained to look passed the bright light and at the man that didn’t have fluffy wings nor massive bat wings but rather a kept suit.


Even in death Mr. Mitock’s stutter followed him. “Mmm-Mmmmm-Mm—Maaaay Oaut—Oaut—ur.” Knee jerk politeness had Dewayne rolling his neck in an unfamiliar way to look at his other guardian. “B-Buh-Buh-les—“


And with another burst of light from Mr. Mitock his own lights went out, making him once again eerily still. 

“Who?” Emerson queried. When he got no answer he leaned in. “Who?” He repeated before tapping at his witness. “Ned. Why is the Undead acting like he’s Dead again?” He asked with an arching brow. 

“Uhh-“ Ned gasped in recovery of having twisted away to sneeze. His already pale pallor blanching even further as he blinked at his wristwatch as the second’s hand kept ticking by.

“Cause I know it hasn’t been a minute and Mitock isn’t re-re-repeating himself.” Emerson snappishly finished. 

“Uh?” Ned breathed again as he looked from his watch to Mister Mitock. “Uh-mm-“ he tapped a patch of skin just below a gash on the decedent’s head. Nothing. He tapped another spot and when there was still no reaction from the dead man he looked to Emerson with a smile that was more pain then actual joy as he shrugged the action appearing as though he was trying to make himself smaller. He hadn’t accidentally bumped Dewayne. Had he? No... no he hadn’t.

A puff of frustrated air blew out of Emerson Cod’s lips as he grabbed the zipper and closed up the once again departed man. He watched as Ned pulled out a tissue from his pocket to wipe at his nose. Emerson harrumphed as he walked away from the table, passed the Pie Maker the several empty tables towards the Exit.  

Ned turned, following the private detective just as they opened the door, the tingling sensation that hadn’t really left him stabbed fiercely in the back of his sinuses. “Hih—ISZZCH-eEu!!” Ned barely had time to duck his head to the side to sneeze into his coat’s popped collar rather then completely uncovered.

The jaded coroner hadn’t looked up from his paperwork and noticed Emerson as he’d opened the door of the refrigerated room. Quickly backpedaled, Emerson’s keen hearing having picked up on something besides the sneezing and perpetual sniffling sounds coming from his associate. 

“B-hm ouo—“ Dewayne finally finished his blessing, albeit muffled. 

Ned whirled around and stepped forward a bit dizzy from the suddenness of his movements.

Mister Dewayne Mitock was back amongst the living and he wasn’t happy to now find himself shrouded in darkness. Before he could scream light same flooding over him and he settled back. 

“Seven seconds,” Ned breathed out as he looked at his wristwatch again. 

“Who killed you?” Emerson questioned, feeling hot under his collar, this was going to be close. Ned’s ability allotted a minute for questioning, any longer and if that undead wasn’t touched again and the borrowed time taken back someone else in the near vicinity would croak. And he for one didn’t want to be waking up in the morgue next. 

“M—M-Mah... Oauut—“ Dewayne didn’t get to finish his stammered answer as Ned’s magical finger slowly retracted from the black pouch containing his jumbled up remains having taken Mister Mitock’s life away once more. He wasn’t naive, the involuntary action of sneezing had fritzed his ‘gift.’ What he didn’t know is if the sixty seconds had paused like Mr. Mitock or if it had kept counting down with his watch. As curious as it was, the Pie Maker didn’t really want to find out at the risk the of Emerson Cod or the Coroner, the only two likely to fall victim to the query. And there would be a victim, best it just be the already previously departed. He was confident that Mitock was once again dead, but as the itch in his nose grew he couldn’t help but fret over the thought of him coming back. He quickly sealed the body back in the envelope, Emerson seeming to be on the same page moved just as speedily shooting a brief jovial smile, to the man still seated behind a desk, that fell as soon as he faced away. 

The silence continued breaking only when the car doors closed behind them. Emerson shifted his frame as much as he could in the driver’s seat to look at sniffling man seated on his right. “Okay. What in the hell happened back there?” He demanded. 

Ned shrugged instantly. “I-I don’t know what you mean? Y-You asked Mister Mitock who killed him and he answered you—“

“You know damn well what I mean,” Emerson cut him off along with a wave of his hand. “What I got was ‘Mah Oaut-ur’ once you get passed all the time wasted with his stammering. And I didn’t get the full time to ask him what that meant because you blew the chance!” He let his hard glare stay a beat longer on the Pie Maker before he shifted in his seat and started the car. 

“Pretty sure ‘Mah Oaut-ur’ was going to be the best answer you were going to get coming from a guy with a broken jaw,” Ned murmured as he sniffled against an itching finger.

As his home and business with the predominant feature being the pie shape and look of his building came into the view, a warmth he’d come to cherish filled him as he thought of his dog Digby and his childhood sweetheart Charlotte Charles, affectionately styled Chuck, which suited her just fine. Both he’d claimed back from the After the and didn’t want to lose forever so he kept them close, but far enough away to never ever touch them again. Just as quickly as the nice feeling had come on it went out the window as he felt a stream of warmth slip out of a nostril. He fumbled in his pocket for another tissue, glancing sideways by chance at Emerson’s pocket square. 

“Nuh-uh,” the sleuth grumped. 

Freeing his own crumped square he wiped away the mess. His brows furrowing with growing fear. 

“What? What is it?” It was his business to pick up on detail and reactions. 

Ned looked slowly over to Emerson as they stopped at the light just before the Pie Hole. “Keep-Keep going...” Ned said as the light turned green. Before he could be questioned he continued. “My sneeze,” boy did it embarrass him to talk about this, at all, “messed up the session-“

“Damn right it ‘messed’ with my interrogation,” Emerson muttered, “who the hell is ‘Mah Oaut-ur’?” Still miffed at not getting the time to attempt for a clearer, easy pickings answer.

Ned’s cheeks reddened with a blush. “—what if I sneeze and Chuck...” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Good riddance,” Emerson scoffed with no real ire. The whip turn of the Pie Maker’s head was visible in his peripheral. “The dog on the other hand,” he continued with a considering expression, he did like Digby. That dog didn’t almost make him trade places at a funeral. He gave a small smile as the worried expression hadn’t left Ned’s face. He was joking. Probably...

He did enjoy yanking chains where he could, but he drove passed the establishment, parking a few blocks away, figuring that would be a sufficient distance from the Dead Girl that was surely bustling about the diner-esque interior and the dog that was probably lounging in the apartment above.

“So you’re telling me that in all this time you haven’t accidentally sneezed Dead Girl dead again?”

Ned thought of all the times he’d had close-calls nearly touching Charlotte but never sneezing with her around. Sure the flour on rare occasion had gotten in his nose while baking and may have made him but with others around he’d do whatever he could to avoid drawing attention to himself. Shaking his head slowly, “No...” 

“Great,” Emerson huffed and looked back out through the windshield at the passerbys for a moment. “Well we can’t sit here all day. I’ve got a case and you’ve got to get out of my car.”

“Take Chuck with you,” Ned said softly aloud as he thought of a solution. 

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Emerson bit out. “I’m not taking Dead Girl around with me when she’s suppose to be dead!” He turned to give the Pie Maker his over time perfected hardened glare to reinforce how incredulous that suggestion was and was met with a sniveling look. “Nah,” he said looking away from the Pie Maker and out his window on the left of him. “That’s not going to work,” he said shaking his head. Emerson Cod’s frown deepened as he heard sniffling. “You know I hate her going out! What if someone recognizes her? That’s all I’d need, someone to recall her Obituary and then question me! Nah, I do the questioning not the other way around.” At the prolonged silence Emerson finally turned to look at his passenger. The tear filled eyes caught his attention first. Well damn. If he really did feel so strongly about-


Ned lurched forward with a sneeze the seatbelt halting him, narrowly keeping him from hitting his head on the glove compartment. He slowly pulled his nose from his cupped hands and sniffled. He’d been focusing his attention on keeping that sneeze from happening. “S’cuse me,” he sniffed and fixed his tissue to give his nose a weak blow. 

Emerson grumbled under his breath as he got out of his car. He didn’t have time or the patience for this. 

When Ned spotted Emerson striding down the sidewalk with a petite, headscarf wearing, bug eye sunglasses disguised Chuck he got out of the car. 

“I knew there was something up with you!” Charlotte ‘Chuck’ Charles stated as she looked up to her bashful looking, absolutely no touching friend as he gave her his small sideways smile, his shoulders scrunching appearing to attempt to make himself smaller. She’d been brought up to speed on the why she had to leave after grilling the Gumshoe for an explanation. She wasn’t Ned’s mother and quickly pushed away the recall of her Father’s fate, and didn’t chastise her oldest friend, he was an adult after all. So with a loving look, “Just get some rest,” she advised. 

Ned nodded and rubbed his nose. He watched until the car had turned a corner and out of sight before trekking home. 

“So ‘Mah Oaut-ur’ was all you got?” Chuck asked Emerson as they drove down a street. 

“Mhmm,” Emerson nodded curtly. “Didn’t get a chance to get more with your boyfriend sneezing.”

Chuck blushed at the ‘boyfriend’ comment. Ned wasn’t really her boyfriend... he was just a boy and a friend... that she occasionally kissed through Saran Wrap. She was familiar with her own lie but moved on from it. “‘Mah Oaut-ur’... hmmm,” she hummed as she thought. “‘Mah Oaut-ur’... Mya Oautur? Does he know anyone by that name?” She asked.

Emerson shook his head, peeved that Dead Girl was inserting herself in his investigation. 

“Hmmm...” Chuck hummed unperturbed by Emerson’s standoffishness to her. She tapped her chin with her finger as she thought. “My... Otter? Did he have a rabid pet?” 

“No! All the dead guy has is a daughter!” Emerson snapped finally, figuring it’d get her to shut up if he just answered. A beat went by and his brows raised, turning to look away from the road to Chuck. “My Daughter!” They both said in unison. 

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