Work Text:
Sighing for the (probable) 21st time that half hour, The Captain glared at Julian.
This was not going the way he hoped it would.
To be fair, it was wrong of him to have any expectations either way- trying to tell anyone of the Ghosts anything around Julian was bound to be taken less seriously than usual.
It’d started with a simple jab at the politician (and at Thomas), really.
For once, it was a quiet day at the Button House- no annoying guest around with something to hide, no pesky film crew, no pigeon irritating anyone; oh, the Captain could go on about how much he loved it. It was perfect. Mostly because he was in the library, relaxing in the ambience of it, with the light streaming through the windows, cascading across the floor- he didn’t have to deal with the current discourse (and by that he meant screaming match) going on in the hall. Pat was there too, having an amiable chat with Alison.
Perhaps this was his current happy state of mind talking that made him feel like thinking about this, but he genuinely adored the relationship he’d built with Alison- she genuinely enjoyed listening to an old man’s old stories, and often told him about things that were going on in the current world. Often, it made for interesting conversation. She was like a granddaughter to him, if this was what it felt like to be a grandfather.
So yeah, a peaceful Sunday afternoon...until Fawcett and Thorne (alias the hyperactive demons) arrived, yelling about something, both of them ending with
“CAPTAIN!”
“Well there goes my Sunday,” The Captain thought disdainfully. He pushed himself off his back to sit against the backrest, one leg over the other, ignoring the cries of help from his joints. He looked at the two men in front of him, while making room for Pat and Alison on either side of him.
“Right,” Pat said, “what’s this about then?”
Thomas sneered at Julian, possibly to stop himself from slapping that smug smirk off Julian’s face.
“The problem is, gents and madam-“ he started, only for Julian to cut him off.
“The problem is Thomas is an ass,” he said decisively, still with a smirk on his face. Thomas made a choking noise, throwing his hands up in outrage. He jutted his pointer finger at the politician. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pat and Alison exchange a “this isn’t gonna end well” look.
“Oh I’M an ass? Let me remind you Fawcett it was you who decided to start up the conversation about your death,” he cried.
“Well you were the one to progress the conversation, Mr I-Died-In-A-Worse-Way-Than-You,” Julian said nonchalantly. This seemed to make Thomas even more irritated. (And, to be fair, who wouldn’t get more irritated).
“I did!” Thomas yelled, gesturing to his bullet wound
“Did not,”
“I did!,”
“Did not,”
“I DID”
“NO YOU DIDN’T”
“YES I DID TOO, FAWCETT,”
“NO YOU DIDN’T YOU OVERDRAMATIC TOASTER-OVEN,”
“I WOULDN’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS BUT-”
“ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH.” The Captain yelled. He’d been plenty used to the two going at each other for long enough to be used to it, watching both of them trying to kill the other as if they weren’t already dead, but this was ridiculous. The Captain glowered at both of them. The two had stopped their bickering to give attention to the Captain’s burst of rage.
“Honestly, you two should be ashamed of yourselves! Two adults, going at each other like little children! Why, you two are the basic equivalent of Serbia and Austria before World War 1!” The Captain exclaimed, with a little bit of a humorous smile at the end.
Truly, the two were as overdramatic as the two countries. The Captain looked at the rest, only to find Alison the only one giggling uncontrollably. He frowned. He was used to receiving not much of a response when he made war jokes, but this was the first time there were no reactions at all. Captain looked up at them with a quirked eyebrow. Surely the three ghosts understood…
Clearing his throat, however, Pat asked the Captain the question that was assured to ruin the peace:
“War? Why’s that?”
The Captain sighed. Gesturing to the old early 1900s’ map he’d been looking at earlier using his drill stick, The Captain responded in voice of finality, “Because an Austrian was killed by a Serb in Bosnia, and that meant war.”
The rest made noises of understanding, until Pat looked at him and asked “Why?” again. Good god, they really didn’t know about the first world war’s cause, did they?
“Because of Russia, Patrick,” he started, “because Russia supported Serbia and Austria supported Bosnia, which meant that they’d go to war protect each-other.” At that moment, he could have sworn that he’d heard a snide comment muttered out by Thomas.
In an effort of understanding, Julian seemed to try to use his old politician senses to predict what had inevitably happened. Pointing at the map, he started slowly, “So because an Austrian was killed by a Serbian in Bosnia, that means that Austria would have invaded Serbia and Russia would have invaded Austria!” he ended, a triumphant smile appearing on his face.
“Yes, Julian, that would be indeed correct,” the Captain said grinning, “Any questions?” he asked. Glancing down at the sofa, he sighed as he saw Pat’s hand up, ever so slightly.
“What is it, Patrick?” he asked in mild exasperation.
“Well, uh, Cap, I still don’t quite see how this involved Britain…” he trailed off. Before The Captain managed to answer, Alison spoke after giving the Captain an “i’ve got it” nod.
“Right, Pat. Who’d you say is your best friend?” She asked. It didn’t take the Captain long to realise what she was trying to do. Clever.
Perking up instantly, Pat said brightly, “Well, I’ve definitely been getting closer to Thomas! He’s lovely fellow and a real good storyteller,” he said, looking at the Poet, sitting at his sighing place. Thomas grinned at him.
With a signal from Alison, the Captain took over. “In that case, if I were to punch Thomas in the nose, what would you do?” he said. In a sudden burst of rage, Pat pushed himself off the sofa with a force.
“If I had the ability to touch my bow and arrow, I’d shoot you,” he exclaimed, his eyes metaphorically flaming with rage. The Captain suddenly felt a little uneasy, fidgeting with his drill stick.
“Well that’s lovely, thanks Pat,” Thomas said, putting his arm around the other for a brief moment in an effort to calm him down. The Captain cleared his throat, before continuing, “Exactly, exactly. So, when Russia threatened Austria, Austria’s best friend offered support. Now, who’s Austria’s best friend?” The Captain asked, gesturing vaguely to the map spread out on the table.
The three ghosts, having gotten up from their respective seats, peered at the map. For once, there was silence in the presence of Julian and Thomas. After about a minute or so, Julian gave up, before yelling at the Captain.
“Oh I give up Cap. Just tell us the bloody answer now will you,” he said, scowling at him.
“What Julian’s trying to say is,” Pat started, giving the politician a look, “is that we’re unsure and would rather you just tell us.” he said, in a form of apology on Julian’s behalf. Thomas nodded in agreement. The Captain sighed for what felt like the 20th time within that half hour.
“Germany. Germany was Austria’s best friend-” The Captain would have finished saying, if not for Julian’s and (surprisingly) Thomas’s sudden, childish, outburst.
“Austria and Germany, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” the two sang, which was the only time they had ever been coordinated, The Captain noted sarcastically to himself.
21.
“Yes,” he said, both trying and failing at keeping the exasperation out of his voice.
“So, when Russia attacked Austria, Germany would attack Russia, which left Germany undefended on the other side,” he continued, pointing at her French borders, now starting to speed up out of heightened interest, “so, to prevent Germany from being attacked by France, Germany also attacked France.” He stopped to face the three others, who were had started to stare at the map too. He didn’t know why, but there was a strange amount of pride swelling up in him about getting the others so interested.
“So, when Germany attacked France, they passed through Belgium to get there. Belgium was essentially our “friend” so, at the end, the British forces stepped in to defend them,” the Captain said once again in a voice of finality, smiling smugly at the other three.
“So, essentially, because an Austrian was murdered, world war 1 started,” Pat said, his voice devoid of all but one emotion of absolute incredulousness.
“...yes,” the Captain said, now realising that it was even funnier when said like that. He knew that because both Julian and Thomas had started laughing (harder than he’d ever seen, he presumed).
Finally done with this explanation, he decided to go back to his lounging about, but not before he heard Julian and Thomas arguing over who was Austria and who was Serbia.
22.