Chapter Text
“Queen go…eh…dooka.”
The Captain was sure he could hear talking, but it was coming from somewhere incredibly far away. From his window seat, he gazed blindly over the grounds of Button House. Though his spirit was unwillingly in the twenty-first century, his mind was firmly in the twentieth. As darkness began to fall, bringing his death day to a close, he could not yet feel grateful that the black event was done for another year. Instead, all he could see was Anthony, walking away from him into the night. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of his kisses on his lips…
“I see what you’re doing there, Queenie, you sexy little minx! There! I’ve got your last bishop! Eyyyyyy! Didn’t get into Cambridge for nothing, me! Now, let’s see what the opposition has to say about that!”
“Prawn go dooka.”
“Wait…but that’s-?”
“Eh, checkmate.”
All of the Captain’s worst memories of Anthony seemed to involve him walking away. Every time he looked at the gates, he relived their last, living farewell, before he had departed for Africa and God knows what…it was as clear to him now as it had been when he had stood, watching helplessly, on that terrible night. I don’t know where this whole wretched business is going to take me. Even then, in the midst of their first and only kisses, had he known he was leaving? Promise me… He should have run after him. He should have begged him not to go. Or somehow, someway, he should have gone with him, should have faced whatever horrors were out there together, should have thrown himself in front of the grenade that had scarred his perfect face...There were so many things he should have done.
“No. No, I can get out.”
“Well, I don’t think so, Julian. You played particularly foolishly – even for you – especially as I think it was pretty obvious what Robin was planning! You should have exchanged rooks while you had the chance, prevented his endgame, and forced a draw. What’s more, you didn’t even notice you had mate in five on the twelfth move! Honestly…”
“…Well, you kept that bloody quiet, Fanny!”
Where was Anthony now? The Captain’s heart turned cold at the idea of a ghostly shade of Anthony haunting some miserable corner of England, as he was fated to do…no. Anthony would not have stayed, he was certain of it. He had never been the type to hang around – after all, it was he who had wanted Africa, wanted adventure, while the Captain had been content to remain where he was. And he was still there.
“Eh! You – me – play!”
“I don’t have the time to play frivolous board games!”
“Apparently you have the time to criticise them!”
Promise me…All those wasted years. Though he had spent these last two days living in the past, the Captain would have given anything to travel there for real, and to do it right this time. He would follow him in a heartbeat, follow him anywhere, right to the ends of the earth, and die to keep him safe without a second thought. But more importantly, he would live. He would be braver, rasher, more open to life…But now he was trapped, a shadow, a shade, with only memories of should-have-beens to torture himself until the end of time.
He had been so gentle. So sweet, so gentle…there would never be such sweetness again.
“Captain!” Someone was running towards him, skidding to a giddy halt in his peripheral vision. “Come and see! There’s a cloud that looks like a…Captain?”
A hand had landed on his arm. It was only with this new, physical sensation that he realised he was crying.
“…Cap?” A new voice had joined the first. “Mate? Everything al…?” As they came face to face, Pat’s voice died away. The Captain did not, could not, look up; he was blinded by tears anyway. He could only stare unseeingly out of the window and silently weep. The shame of it...the shame to be seen like this...but there was nothing he could do. There was a brief pause, an agony, before – “Right! Everyone out!” Purposeful footsteps began to march around the room, chivvying its occupants towards the door. “Come on Julian, Robin – someone grab Humphrey’s head, I suppose it doesn’t matter about the other bit – but everyone needs to leave this room right now!”
“Eh, where's duh fire?”
“What on Earth is the matter with you?”
“Hey - is there something wrong with…oh. Oh God. Right.”
“I said, everybody out!”
With some assorted grumbling, the assembled company began to move slowly towards the door. Happy not to be involved in emotional matters, he Captain heard Julian and Fanny continuing their argument all the way down the stairs. But not all the ghosts were quite so obedient. Though the Captain could not look at any of them, through his tears, he could just about make out a figure in brown and white looming into view as he scurried towards him.
“…By the gods of love, I know that look.” Thomas declared affectedly, leaning over him like a lamppost. “Pray tell – ?”
“Especially you, mate!” Pat shouted. “Out!”
“But I have a uniquely profound –“
“Ehhhh, want some?” the voice of Robin roared, shoving Thomas away from the Captain. “You out now!”
“How dare you manhandle me in this manner! Damn your eyes, sir! Damn your head, shoulders, knees, and…” Thomas’ voice faded away as he chased Robin down the corridor. The Captain was grateful for Pat’s quick thinking; though his grief prevented him from the worst of his shame for having being seen crying, he was not entirely immune.
“Thanks, Robin!” Pat called after him, breathing a sigh of relief, before turning to the ghost whose hand still rested on the Captain’s arm. “Kitty, why don’t you go outside and have a proper look at that cloud, hm?” he suggested, his voice far kinder than it had been addressing Thomas. “Look, I think there’s one over the hill that's shaped like a rabbit!”
But Kitty was could not be distracted. “I’m not leaving. I don’t leave my friends when they’re sad.” Without a word more, she sat down on the windowseat beside the Captain, rested her head on his shoulder, and snuggled in. This simple action, this quiet closeness, was enough to redouble the Captain’s tears. He felt like a parent being comforted by a child.
“…It’s alright.” he managed to choke out. “Katherine can stay.”
“Okay.” Pat agreed. There was a short silence, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock, before, very delicately, he spoke again. “It’s today, isn’t it? Your death day? Sorry, mate, I know how rough it can be.”
The Captain gave an enormous, wobbly sigh. “You have no idea…”
"Is there anything we can do to make it easier?” Pat suggested, his voice brightening. “Maybe a group activity? Or why don’t we see if Alison will put on Hitler’s Secret Superweapons, hm?” He adjusted his glasses knowledgeably. “She can get it any time she wants, you know, on her laptop computer! It’s just over there, on the side – I’m sure it wouldn’t be a bother. You don’t even need to plug it in! What a world!”
“No, thank you.”
“What about The Wizard of Oz, then? I know how much you enjoy it when it’s on at Christm…” Pat’s voice trailed away as the Captain wept harder. “Oh. Right. It’s a definite no on that, then.”
It took some time for the Captain to catch his breath after that. He could not bear the thought of Dorothy now, clicking her heels to her own happy ending…if only it were that easy. With a few coughs, he found his voice. “Good Lord…I appreciate your concern, but it’s my own bally fault." he snapped, disgusted with himself. "Dwelling on that past, on things I cannot change.” He coughed again, harder, and forced himself to straighten up. “I must apply more discipline, that’s all. Keep calm, and carry on.”
Pat sighed. “Look, mate…I know it isn’t easy for you to talk about these things,” His tone became, bracing, as if he were talking to an uncertain child. “but a few weeks ago, you were incredibly brave when you told us about how you died. And you have to admit - it did make you feel better. So why don’t you try telling me a little bit about how you’re feeling, hm?”
The Captain sniffed. He did not hold with this modern "talking" business…but staying in his comfort zone was what had landed him here in the first place. He hadn’t been brave for Anthony. Perhaps he owed it to him to be brave now.
“…It’s just a difficult anniversary, that’s all. For…many reasons.”
“I can see that.” Pat agreed. He became rather thoughtful. “And maybe finally talking about that day has made everything feel a bit fresher this year? A bit more upsetting?”
“That…” The Captain gulped. He hated showing so much weakness, even to his friends – but he found he could not help himself.“That could be a fair assessment.”
Very carefully, Pat continued. “Unfortunately, and as much as I hate to say it, I think Thomas might be right. Knowing what I know, I can see how today might bring up some difficult feelings about…" He paused, wondering if he dared. Then, like a death knell: "...the person who was with you when you died?”
That was it. There was no holding back the dam now. A tidal wave of grief came pouring through, sweeping up the Captain with it and not letting him go. Oh Anthony, Anthony, Anthony…
“It’s alright.” Kitty murmured, holding the Captain in her arms and letting him sob quietly into her dress. Her own voice had become rather thick. “We’re here for you.”
No one spoke as the Captain openly grieved. It had been such a long time since he had cried…had Anthony ever cried for him? That thought was completely unbearable… The clock ticked on as the wave rose higher and higher, until finally, the Captain seemed to reach the eye of the storm. As he cried himself out, he found himself feeling strangely calm. Oddly cleansed, like the world in snowfall. At long last, with much gulping, swallowing, and hiccoughing, the Captain raised his head once more.
“Good Lord…Look – I’m very grateful to you, Patrick – and you, Katherine. But there really isn’t anything anyone can do. It’s all in the past now. It’s done, it’s gone, and there is nothing I can do. I just…there are so many loose ends. Things I should have done…things I should have said…things I wish could have been. With…with him.” He gulped, and the last of his tears spilled. “I just have a lot of regrets, that’s all.”
“I know, mate. We all do…” Pat sighed again, deeper this time, but his voice remained quietly bracing. “It must be a terrible burden for you to bear – and thank you so much for sharing that today. It's a big step, and you should be so proud. I hope you know that we all care about you very deeply, and we are here for you in any way you need us.”
“It’s just like Bruno Mars says!” Kitty twittered, squeezing his shoulders. “You can count on me, like one – two – three! And we love you, just the way you are!”
This almost set the Captain off again. God, he loved Kitty, loved Pat...loved them all. With a deep breath, he managed to remain above water. “Thank you, Katherine.” he repeated. “Such wisdom from young Mr Mars. But I…” he stuttered, taking even himself by surprise. Now the gates had opened, his next words just seemed to pour out. “I just wish I knew how he was. After it all, I mean – the rest of his life. I just…I just wish I could have known that he was alright!”
Pat paused. His gaze flitted up to the ceiling as he sank deep into thought. Then, at last, they fixed upon Alison’s laptop.
“…You know…We could try and find out?”
This was a bad idea. The Captain paced nervously around the room, holding onto his – Anthony’s – swagger stick with both hands as if it were a life support. On the chaise-longue, Alison was opening her laptop, the screen illuminating her face as she brought up a search engine. Either side of her, Pat and Kitty sat, hardly able to contain their own nerves – but the Captain felt as if his stomach was full of snakes. What if they couldn’t find anything? Or worse – what if they did? What if they found out something he didn’t want to know?
“Alright.” Having been tactfully filled in by Pat, Alison could hardly contain her enthusiasm – after all, the Captain almost never discussed his personal history. “Let’s see if we can find him, hey, team? What was his name?”
Don’t give it. Don’t give his name. “Anthony P. Havers.”
“’Kay.” Alison’s fingers tapped quickly on the keyboard. “What does the “P” stand for?” she asked, interested.
Be brave. Be brave, like him. “Peregrine.”
A pause – then a snort. “God, that’s horrible-! I mean –” Alison stopped herself, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean –”
The Captain stared at her for a moment, wondering whether he should be annoyed. Then, to his own surprise, he found that a laugh had escaped his own lips. “It is, isn’t it?” He sighed fondly…after all, everyone had to have at least one flaw.
“Do you know roughly when he was born?” Alison asked, relaxing again. “Just a ball-pot figure would help narrow it down-”
“The fifteenth of February, 1906.”
“Right.” The Captain was startled to find that Alison was smiling an all-too-familiar smile as she tapped at her keyboard. That’s so…you. It sent a shiver down his spine…and yet, somehow, it was comforting. Like a friendly wave from the other side. “Okay. That’s enough to go on.”
No one spoke as Alison trawled through the search results. She clicked on and off various sites, one moment looking hopeful, then sighing. Though Pat and Kitty leaned over her shoulders, transfixed by the screen, the Captain himself could not bear to look. He could not even bear to sit. What sort of a life would the Captain have had if he had lived? Full of shame, secrecy, solitude…he did not think he could bear knowing that Anthony had lived that sort of life. Every atom of his being wanted to yell at Alison to cease operations immediately…but he did not. Instead, he continued to pace around the room, clutching his swagger stick close to his chest and trying to ignore the terrible swooping feeling that kept coursing through his insides.
“-Hold on, look at this!” Alison suddenly jabbed her finger at the screen. “Major Anthony Havers! Born 1906! I’ve found…sorry.” She paused, looking up at the Captain with very wide eyes. All the excitement had drained from her tone. “Sorry. I’ve found an obituary.”
The news did not hit the Captain like a tonne of bricks. Instead, it was like a small, sad breath of wind, touching him gently, before moving on.“…I mean, I knew he would have to be dead by now.” he said softly. He thought of Anthony, warm and real in his arms, just as he had been…the world had lost its sweetness since then. “When…when did he die?”
“1995.”
“Good Lord!” The Captain exclaimed, so loudly that it made Kitty, who had anxiously been watching the Captain’s reaction, jump out of her skin. “That’s a good innings, isn’t it? Tremendous innings!” So Anthony had lived a long life…but what sort of life had it been? He almost did not dare ask. “…What else does it say?”
Alison’s eyes had already scanned the webpage.
“Come and read it for yourself.”
Be brave. Summoning all of his courage, the Captain strode determinedly towards the chaise-longue, leaning over Alison’s shoulder to look at the laptop. On the glowing screen, enlarged by Alison with a few clicks, there was a scanned image of a local newspaper, with several notices framed in thin black ink. Births. Marriages. Deaths. The swooping in his stomach reached a crescendo as his eyes fell upon the answer to his question. 1906-1995. The Captain felt his heart jam itself so firmly in his throat that if he had been living, he was sure it would have choked him. He did not think he could bear to look. Be brave for him.
With the air of a solider about to go over the top – the Captain began to read.
WWII veteran Major Anthony P. Havers has died peacefully at his home in Shoreham-by-Sea, following a short illness. He will be lovingly remembered by his nieces and nephews, their children, and their grandchildren. Having been awarded the Military Cross, amongst other honours, for his gallantry on the North Africa Front, he retired to a quieter life, serving instead as the much-beloved community librarian for forty years. His weekends were spent enjoying quality time with family, or as a gardening volunteer at the local botanical gardens, where his absence is already noticed. The whole family will deeply miss their Uncle Anthony, a sweet and gentle man who lived his life for others, and wish him the peaceful rest he deserves.
The Captain read over the obituary several times, not noticing how ragged his breathing had become, not noticing the three pairs of eyes boring anxiously into him, until he almost lost his balance. Good Lord…Good Lord…
“Cap?” Pat asked, not able to bear the silence for a moment longer. “You okay? What do you think?”
Breath by breath, the Captain felt himself growing stronger. Though he had thought he had cried away all his tears, more were springing into his eyes as readily as rainfall – and yet, they were a different kind of tear. They hurt, sure. But it was a good hurt. A clean hurt. Once more, the Captain felt as though he had let go of a breath he had been holding for the last eighty years.
“He was alright…he was okay!”
“Ah, mate…” Pat sighed thickly. On the chaise-longue, Alison was blinking hard, while Kitty openly wept. “What a brilliant send-off, hey? Anyone would be proud of that obituary.”
“He clearly had a meaningful life.” said Alison, swallowing. She looked back at the Captain, giving a wobbly, but determined, smile. “And was very much loved.”
“He…” Kitty gulped. “He must have been a very special person!”
“I know…” the Captain sighed. “I know…” I know. “I wonder…I wonder if he really knew that…that I…” The rest of his words simply would not come. But, thankfully, Pat understood.
“I’m sure, wherever he is, he still knows. Think about it - it's been eighty years, and nothing has changed. How could he not have known? And one day, when you move on…you’ll be able to tell him yourself.”
What a death day it had been.
The moon was high in the sky over Button House, illuminating the grounds in a gentle silver light. It was too easy to grow used to the place – but every now and again, the Captain remembered how beautiful it all was. Such a grand old house, such gorgeous grounds…and best of all, it was full of friends. Friends the Captain had never had in life, friends who cared about him, friends who loved him. As he gazed out of his bedroom window over the garden, the Captain’s heart glowed as he remembered the kindness and patience shown to him that day. All in all, he considered, it wasn’t a bad place to be stuck for the foreseeable…
And, of course, it was here that the Captain had lived the best days of his life. The worst too, yes, but he would have taken all the bad days in the world for that single, magic evening beneath the hollow tree. Looking out at the dark shapes of the trees in the distance, the Captain remembered a man who had been brave, a man who had been strong, and through it all, unfailingly gentle, and as sweet as the cake crumbs on his collar. He remembered how he had smiled, how he had laughed, his shouts of triumph on the cricket pitch, and the quiet glow of those knowing eyes, gazing back into his own.
Thank God he had been afforded a gentle ending. The Captain liked to think of Havers shelving books in the quiet corners of a library, a thousand miles from the bombs, gunshots, and screams of the battlefield. He pictured him kneeling down in the soft earth of a flower bed, pulling up weeds, perhaps humming to himself. He imagined Sundays in the garden with a big, tight, close-knit family, laughing and joking in the afternoon sun. He had always always thought of others before himself, always noticed those living their lives on the fringes, isolated and lonely, and he invited them into his world. Invited them to the party. That’s so…him.
Maybe, once or twice, he had looked wistfully up at the sky, and thought of James. Because, every day, James had thought of him.
“Goodnight, Anthony.” James murmured, his heart fuller than it had ever been in his life. “I love you.”
It was dark. There was the moon to light the gardens of Button House. But still, in the hazy midst of the trees, the Captain could have sworn he saw a long-eared owl spread its wings to fly away, high into the night sky…