Chapter Text
-The Oval Portrait-
"Here you are. Oscar?" Annabel Lee said, gesturing to the washroom. He handed the shirt to Mary Ann. "You need this more than I do." She nodded in thanks and Oscar went into the washroom.
"So..." Annabel said. "So," Mary Ann responded. It looked like Annabel was going to say something else but then there was a scream from the washroom. Annabel's eyes widened. "I'll go get-" she ran off before Mary Ann could hear the rest.
The woman knocked on the door. "Oscar? Oscar!" Edgar was there in an instant with HG and Lenore behind him. "What's going on? Where's Annabel?"
"She went to find you!" Mary Ann said. Edgar tested the knob to find it locked and then slammed the door open.
"There you are, what's happening?" Annabel said, returned again. Everyone froze looking down at Oscar with a portrait over his head. He looked up and Annabel dropped to his side. "Oh no... who did this to you?"
"It was... I didn't see," he said weakly and then his head dropped. Oscar Wilde was dead.
"Wait... where's Ernest?" Edgar asked. They all raced to the study, but only Charlotte was there in the chair tied down with wire. "Guess Charlotte can't be the murderer, she was with us the whole time," Lenore sighed. "Thank you," the woman sighed. "Her only crime was being totally basic."
"I did it!" Ernest said. Everyone gasped and turned around. Mary Ann almost felt her heart stop. Not her Ernest. "I brought knives for everyone! For protection," he grinned. Goddammit.
"No, in protecting us, you will also be giving the murderer a knife," Edgar said. "Alright, I think the murderer is doing alright," Lenore said. "You disappear while two people are murdered, and then reappear with instruments of death?" Charlotte said skeptically.
"Well, I was in the kitchen. Where the knives live."
"How am I still tied up?" The woman asked. "Ugh, fine," Lenore groaned. Everyone left the room except for Ernest and Mary Ann. Ernest set to work cutting Charlotte free. "Careful. Watch yourself! Have you done this before?"
"Is this arousing, or what?" Ernest smirked. "No, what's- oh, god." He got her free and she quickly followed the others out to the hall. Ernest was about to as well but Mary Ann caught his sleeve. "Ernest." He turned. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I just. It could have been me dead in the washroom. I just, I'm scared," she said quietly. He put his arms around her. "Honey, it's gonna be okay. We have knives for protection, and we have each other."
"I know." She looked carefully at his shirt and ran her hands over his chest. "Also. You..."
"Are you trying to tell me something, Mae?" Ernest gently lifted her chin to look at him and winked. She laughed. "No. You're just... you're flirting with all these women, and... I don't know."
He got quiet and serious. "Right. Sorry. You know I lo-" he stopped himself. "You know it's fake," he said instead.
"I know. I just worry."
"About me?"
"About if one of those women flirts back. And... you're drunk. And..."
"Mary Ann. I would never do anything of the sort." He kissed her quickly, lightly. "Honestly, Brontë still seems suspicious to me. I was saying that to put her on edge a little, I didn't mean it."
"Yeah..."
"Let's go." He kissed her once more and slipped his hand into hers. They let go by the time they joined the others in the hall, where HG was talking. "You were saying something about your family hiring a psychic to conjure ghosts of the dead?" He asked Lenore. "Mhm. Krishanti."
"Well, we have a lot of dead people in this house, and I'm sure at least one of them saw whoever killed them."
"Is the good professor suggesting we have a seance?"
-Spirits of the Dead-
They were waiting in the study and Mary Ann stood up. "I need to use the washroom."
"What- Can you not wait, Mary- George?" Edgar asked exasperatedly.
"Well, it's not like I got the chance before," she retorted. Ernest quickly got to his feet. "I can accompany the gentleman." Edgar rolled his eyes. "Okay, whatever. Hurry back."
They quickly left the room together and Mary Ann grabbed his hand as soon as they were out of eyeshot. "Ernest. I-I'm scared." He glanced back over his shoulder and then pulled her into a dimly lit room in the hallway. It was a basic sitting room. "Mae, it's gonna be okay, I promise. I'll get you out of here if it's the last thing I do."
Mary Ann smiled weakly. "Thank you, Ernie. I just- you need to be careful too, okay?" Ernest grinned. "I'll get us out of here if it's the last thing I do," he corrected himself. Mary Ann stepped forwards and hugged him fiercely. She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes flicking to his lips. Ernest looked back at her with an amused smile. "Now?"
Mary Ann was the one who kissed him first softly. Ernest was the one who deepened the intensity so they were pressed against each other, their fingers at each other's buttons.
~~
The door opened onto a scene quite unlike what the group was expecting. They froze.
Ernest had Mary Ann against the wall and he kissing her passionately, shirt open. Mary Ann kissed him back with the same fervour. Her shirt was halfway undone, her suit jacket on the floor.
When the door opened, Ernest turned in an instant. He sort of blocked Mary Ann with his body. "What the hell are you doing?" He asked.
Edgar Allen Poe, Lenore, H.G. Wells, Charlotte Brontë, Emily Dickinson, and Annabel Lee stared.
"Ernest, what's going on?" Edgar asked after a moment.
"Nothing."
Lenore smirked. "No, clearly something is happening."
Ernest blushed. "Seriously, what the hell are you doing?" He repeated.
"We were looking for you two," Annabel said delicately. "Krishanti is almost here."
"Well," Mary Ann stepped out from behind Ernest. "Here we are." She wore her suit jacket, all buttoned up and smoothed down, and her fake moustache once more. She spoke as George Eliot.
"Darling, we know you're a woman now," Lenore said.
Mary Ann dropped her gaze.
"We knew before," she added.
"How about we all just leave these two alone and let them make their own way down," Annabel suggested.
They all shuffled out of the room and Ernest slammed the door after them. "Fuck."
Mary Ann tore off the moustache which was half falling off her face anyways. "Darling, maybe it won't be so bad."
"No, they fucking should have knocked. Not just barged in here," Ernest growled.
Mary Ann kissed his cheek. "Ernie, please don't be so mad."
He turned to her, his face hard. "Why not? And what would they think, me making out with someone who-" He stopped himself, realizing his mistake.
"Who what?" Mary Ann's voice was quiet and dangerous. Ernest smiled nervously. "I mean. You know I lo-"
"Don't do that now, Ernest. Don't say that now. Someone who what?"
"You know I didn't mean it like that, Mary Ann. George. I-" He turned away, hand on his forehead. "Jesus. Sorry. I don't know what to do, to call you, I don't know anything," he said frustratedly.
"You don't get it. Right? Pretending to be a man all the time for me is just a lie. It's fucking fake, you know it and I know it and they certainly know it now." Her voice was rising and she turned away.
"Mary Ann-"
"When your life is all about pretending, you get really good at it."
Ernest's face softened. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She didn't reply. "I love you, I do. Honestly."
She whirled on him. "Well, maybe I don't know if I love you or the idea of you. Maybe I want to love you but I don't know if I can. Maybe because you're a man and I secretly need to be a woman so I sleep with you and try to love you to validate that and-" Tears were pouring down her face now. "You should go."
"Mary Ann, I can't just leave you here if the-"
"Go!" She shouted.
Ernest left her in the room without a backwards glance. He saw Annabel, Edgar and Lenore in the hall but swept past them without a word.
Mary Ann sniffed, wiped at her nose, slumped down against the wall with her eyes squeezed closed.