The moment he opened the door, he knew she wasn't home. Hadn't been home. He was opening the door of a ghost's quarters, and within it he wasn't going to find what he was looking for. What was he looking for? What was he doing? What twisted set of steps had led him to this point? He knelt just inside of his room, and questioned himself one more time. He questioned everything, all because he was walking into the room of something more dead than he was. And he'd killed it. He'd performed the killing blow. All he was doing now was twisting the knife.

The door closed behind him, and he screamed, scuttling to his feet. Whether it had just been the weight of the door or a gust of wind, he hadn't been the cause of the door closing, but neither had anyone else. He realized, then, why the room felt so uncomfortable. It wasn't just an empty room, it was haunted. Haunted by memories and a life that he hadn't quite let go of. And though he never could have known it, neither had she.

Robert stood and walked solemnly through the open tomb of their marriage, taking stock of what had changed. The mess from their break up had all been cleaned up - the shattered television was gone, the furniture was all righted and in place, and all the pictures were gone. It was clean, and sterile. It looked the same as the day they'd moved into it, when he carried her over the threshold in his arms. He saw a ghost of the moment, walking through the closed door. He could see through it, and hear nothing; and a moment later, when his former self and his new bride walked through the man who stood and watched them, it all disappeared.

Robert let out a hollow chuckle as he was left alone again.

He checked the bathroom next, because it made sense to him. There was no toothbrush in the little unicorn cup. No half used bottles of soap or shampoo. The room was just as devoid of inhabitance as the living room. So he sucked in a deep breath, and moved on to the bedroom. It was more hollow than any of other other rooms, because the entire bed was gone.

No one had bothered to issue a new one, because no one had bothered to sleep here.

Petra had left long, long ago.

Robert opened up all of the closets, one by one. Most of his things were gone - he could only imagine what had happened to them - but a few pieces remained. Things that were hidden in the shadows of corners, where no one would have thought to look in their haste to destroy every trace of him. There, he found a pair of shoes, two pairs of pants, and a pathetic few old shirts. The shirts were all dirty, and forgotten. He took them anyway, because they were all he had left.

The click of the closing door echoed when he left their room for the last time. He walked up to the living room, and looked around for anything he might have missed. As he'd expected, there was nothing.

She was meticulous.

He flopped down on the couch, and sank into it. His eyes rolled closed as he enjoyed, however briefly, the unexpected comfort that made him buy the couch in the first place. It felt so good to be -

No. This wasn't home, anymore.

His eyes opened, and he stared up at the ceiling. His arms stretched out on either side, resting on the top of the couch, and he lost himself in the silence for a little while. Even the couch had memories, and he caught them flickering in the corners of his vision, every so often. But when he looked, they weren't there. She did not haunt the room, the past did.

Life did.

He continued to stare up at the ceiling, and breathed as he started to talk into the empty air.

"Hey."

Silence greeted him back.

"It's been a while. I guess you're not living here after all. I tried to ask some of your Division if they've heard from you, but I should have known you'd keep your whereabouts a secret. I guess you wanted me to worry about you one last time." He laughed - a hollow, sad sound. "Well it worked. You got me worrying. But you always had a knack for taking care of yourself. And me, I guess." He rubbed his neck and frowned. "I'm not doing so well, Sunshine. I think I'm losing a battle here, and I don't know what I'm fighting anymore. But you don't know what I been through-" He stopped, cringing as if someone was chastising him. He could hear her telling him to nut up or shut up, without even being there.

He closed his eyes, and strained to catch haunted whispers that he shouldn't have been able to hear. He allowed himself that. But when the whispers stopped, he opened his eyes.

"I don't know if you're dead or alive." His voice hitched, and tears ran paths down the sides of his head. "But I know I gotta say goodbye. I shoulda said it long ago, but I'm saying it now. I just hope one day you can - " He shook his head. "Who am I kidding. You ain't never gonna forgive me. I just hope you can be happy."

He brushed the tears away from his face. "I remember every single day I spent with you, Sunshine. And that's something, because I don't remember much. But I hope you know, even if we were wrong about forever, I don't regret it. You made me who I am today. You, and kitten, and Poe and mom and pop, and - and I gotta believe it all happened for a reason. Because - because it led me to where I am right now." He felt the guilt seeping back into his heart, and allowed himself to feel it, deeply. It hollowed him out, and reminded him that he still had a long way to go before he could love himself again.

"But this is where I'm meant to be." A calm settled upon him, and it filled him back up with hope. "So it's time."

He pushed himself back up off of the couch, and stood, grabbing all of his clothing in one arm. When he returned to the door, there were no more ghosts of the past walking through it. Just him.

He opened the door, turned one last time to look back in it, and smiled.

"You'll never know, dear. How much I loved you." He hummed the song under his breath, and closed the door in his own face. Everything felt darker, when he did it. Of course it did, he reasoned with himself. He'd taken the sunshine away.