New York City had always been the city that never slept, and neither did its denizens, even when they had been laid to rest.

It was close to the midnight of Valentine's Day and thusly close to the beginning of the annual kiss-in that took place in the ruins of Times Square. Two figures watched the growing crowd, escaping the notice of the gray-haired woman who shared the rooftop with them.

"She doesn't see us," one of them said calmly. She was partially translucent, even to her companion; had she had full human form, her hair would have shone softly gold in the pale moonlight. She looked like she was wearing comfortable clothes, and her features were weathered with time.

"How do you know?" the other one asked. She was shorter and wider than her companion. A spectral fedora shaded her face, and her long dark hair streamed out from beneath the hat. Despite the wintry conditions, her feet were bare. She seemed slightly more solid than her companion, as if she were more bound to the material world.

"She would have said something to me. She talks to me sometimes. She's not always aware that I'm listening, but if she wants to she can talk a blue streak. I don't always want to hear what she has to say, but that comes with the territory. I'm sure you'll have figured that out by now." She sighed. "She's focused on one thing, and one thing only: playing with her new toy when the government decides that a million people kissing is a bad idea."

The brunette made a disgusted noise. "I hate Valentine's Day. I only ever liked it for two or three years. It started to suck when the guy I was seeing had to flee the continent. I ended up spending the next twelve Valentine's Days holed up in a room with a bottle and mind-altering substances. It's amazing what two liters of orange soda and a half-kilo of chocolate can do for a broken heart. And now he's finally back on the continent, and voilá, I'm dead."

"You're far too cynical for your years," the older woman commented, shaking her head sadly. "I would have loved to be part of something like this."

"So would I," the brunette agreed with a long sigh.

"Hey, guess what? You were here for it. You could have grabbed a friend and come on down. You let your broken heart screw you up. Stop whining. I can't stand a whiner."

There was no answer from the brunette, and when the older figure looked at her, she saw that the brunette's head was bent towards the crowd. The fedora hid her eyes and her face, but her shoulders were shaking just slightly. The older woman came over to her and put an arm over (and partially through) her shoulder. "He's probably not down there," she said quietly. "Even if he is, and even if you went down there, he won't know you're there. You won't be able to kiss him, and he won't be able to hold you. Hundreds of strangers will walk through you. No one will know you're there except you and me and that weird kid who wanders around and says hello to everyone. Is that really what you want for Valentine's Day? To know for sure that you won't be able to-"

"Please, for the love of whatever you believe in, SHUT THE HELL UP!" the brunette snapped. "Don't you think it hurts enough? Don't you think I'd rather find a way to have an afterdeath than to have this lovely little afterlife here? I like getting around and meeting people I never really knew in real life, but damn it, this makes me wish I had been right before and there was nothing after death... just peace." She stopped and composed herself, taking deep breaths and reaching into a ghostly purse for the spirit of a chocolate bar. It calmed her down. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have screamed at you like that. I have far more respect for you than to do that."

"Could've fooled me."

The brunette allowed herself a half-smile. "You're Lady Liberty. If I were part of Our Lady, I'd be kneeling at your feet right now."

"Thank you for not. Kneeling, I mean. I see enough of them and they scare me. I never wanted to be worshipped, and somehow I've been in the middle of two different cults. Very strange."

"It's your magnetic personality. People are just attracted to you, and once they're there they stick to you. They can't help it."

The older woman made a disgusted face. "Gina Stewart, you should be ashamed of yourself for that pun."

Gina shrugged her slumped shoulders and adjusted the fedora to hide a little more of her face. "All right, so maybe I am. But someone needed to say it, and you wouldn't, and the psychotic little killing machine over there has a new girlfriend to drool over, so it had to be me."

"You should be glad she can't hear you say that."

"What's she gonna do? Kill me?"

"I don't know about you, but having bullets whiz through me gives me the ghost of a headache."

But the older woman's comeback went unheard as Gina stared blankly at the scene. As the clock ticked ever closer to midnight, she spoke. "Um, there's something I'd like to ask you. It's gonna sound weird..."

"Says the ghost with the fedora and the undead chocolate."

"Well, um. Neither of us ever had a chance to be part of the kiss-in, for whatever reason. And, well, one thing I always wondered about, since I was surrounded by girls who liked girls- I always wondered what it'd be like to kiss a girl. A few months after dying sounds like as good a time as any."

The older woman blinked. "You want to- heh, you're not the first straight woman to want to kiss me. Sure, why not? You only live once, and after that everything's a bonus. One of us is going to have to make an altitude adjustment, because even on tiptoes you can't reach up here."

"It's not my fault you're so freakishly tall. It's not like I'm such a short woman- I *am* five-seven. Damn it, where's a dead stepladder when you need one?" Since no stepladders had given up the ghost on this roof, she had to resort to other measures. Concentrating hard, she let her feet leave the ground until she was eye level with the older woman. "This is freaky."

"You get used to it after the first five years or so. It has its advantages. If you have to be dead, you should at least take advantage of it."

"I'll remember that." As the clock started to chime midnight and both sides made their preparations for love and war, the two spectral figures edged closer together. There was fear and nervousness on Gina's face, and it was all too obvious because she had tilted the fedora back out of the way. "Oh, for God's sake. Don't be scared. I only bite on request."

"I've never done this before. Pardon me if I feel a little weird about it."

"Hey, you were the one that suggested it."

"I know, I know."

And then the clock struck for the twelfth time. As all hell broke loose, the two women kissed gently. It didn't last long, nor did it need to. "Not bad," the older woman decided after giving the matter some thought. "I've definitely had worse."

"I'll take that as a compliment. I'm not that experienced. There was him, and then there was you, and, well, that's been it. Being a rebel mastermind doesn't leave much time for making out."

The older woman allowed herself a smile, but her attention was more focused on the fighting below. "I just hope we did the right things..." she said, half to herself as the battle raged.