Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Alison!” Mike called, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty house. “Weird spooky package for you! Probably ghost related!”

“What are you on about?” She asked, walking through the door. “Pass it here.” Mike handed her the box, and then took a few steps back. “What? It’s not gonna explode.”

“You don’t know that for sure. What if you open it and a million ghosts come out?”

“Just because it’s an old wooden box and it’s addressed to me doesn’t automatically make it a ghost thing, Mike. It’s probably just a normal old house thing.”

“Doubt. GHOSTS!” He yelled. “COME CHECK OUT THIS SPOOKY GHOST THING.” 

One by one, the ghosts began to file through.

“GHOSTS.” Mike shouted again.

“They’re already here Mike, please stop shouting.” Alison said.

“Oh, okay. Hello, ghosts! Is this box a ghost thing?” He asked, addressing his questions to the ceiling as usual.

“Oo, yeah. Definitely. Got the weird metal corners and everything.” Julian said, stepping forward to take a closer look.

“You died last, Julian, how could you possibly know?” Kitty interrupted, pulling him backwards. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Alison, just open it.”

“No! That be witchcraft! Renounce Satan, box!”

“It can’t renounce Satan, Mary, it’s a box. It can’t talk.” Alison replied, sighing. “Can someone with more than three braincells make an input?”

“Box,, like bigger box. People box.” Robin said, pointing outside.

“Oh my God, like a coffin? This is a ghost coffin?” Alison asked worriedly, and then everyone began shouting at once. 

“...Well, put it somewhere far away then, for goodness sake! We can’t have...”

“...Or put one of those weird plague people in the basement in it...”

“...GETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGE-”

“...Oh! How poetic! Coffin box… Comfy socks…”

“...No, no, no, other box, other box, wheel box, box with wheels...”

“...We need an organised effort for the safe disposal of this device. I remember where we kept the explosives while I was alive, if we act fast, we might be able to destroy it before it causes us harm. I propose we split into two groups...”

“...What is a coffin?”

“Kitty, how on earth do you not know what a coffin is?” And with that, the room fell back into silence.

“Kitty, do you seriously not know what a coffin is?” Alison asked.

“Of course I do! I just wanted to be part of all the shouting.” Kitty grinned. “And I seem to not know a lot of things so… It was the obvious thing to say!”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Well, I’ll just go put this in a sealed room or something. Not that that really stops you guys but… Just don’t go into the west wing attic until I think of a better way to get rid of this, alright?”
They nodded.

“Okay. You can all go now. Thanks everyone. ...Jesus. Never anything normal in a ghost house, is it?”

“Well, it is a ghost house. Are they gone?”

“Yeah, they’re gone.”

“Is it actually a coffin?”

“I dunno. They seemed to think so? Or, at least, Robin did, and he’s been here the longest so I’m inclined to believe him.”

“Isn’t he the caveman?”

“Well.. Yeah, but,” Alison shrugged. “He’s had thousands of years of experience. Plus, if it’s not, what’s so important that we have to risk opening it and finding out?”

“Okay, fair point. Want me to go put that in the attic for you?”

“Yes, please, Mike, thank you.”

“No problemo.” Mike smiled, grabbing the box and heading up the stairs. 

----------------------------------------------

“Alison?” Robin asked as she was passing.

“Yeah?”

“Made mistake earlier.”

“With the ghost coffin?”

“Not coffin. Wheel box.”

“Oh! Like a car?”

“Yes! Yes! Car. Ghost car.”

“What, like.. It can take ghosts to other bits of land?”

“Dunno. One come before Annie go.”

“The maid?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Alison frowned. “Get the others who were around when Annie was. Meet me in the library.”

“Right. Robin reckons the box I got this morning also turned up before Annie ascended. Can any of you remember a box turning up?”

“Oh, yes!” Kitty said, waving her hands. “It was so pretty! It was white with gold on the corners, I remember because we could touch it, couldn’t we? It was the first thing I’d picked up in so long! We all had a go holding it.”
The rest of them nodded slowly, memories coming back to them.

“That’s right.” Thomas stepped forward. “And Annie was the one to open it, wasn’t she?”
They nodded again.

“Does that mean one of us gets to be sucked off?” Mary asked. They exchanged looks.

“Moved on. And we don’t know that. This one is black with all rusted corners, it’s not the same one. What happened to the other box?”

“It disappeared with Annie.”

“Okay, so we have no real way to compare them. Wonderful.”

“Well, I know the etchings are different.” Thomas input.

“What?”

“Well, the other one had an up arrow on the lid. This one has a weird crest thing.”

“Oh my God, Thomas, why didn’t you mention that earlier! So this probably won’t make someone move on.”

“What does it do then?”

“It be witchcraft.”

“I mean, there’s only one way to find out.” Alison said, reaching for the lid.

“NO!” Everyone shouted.

“Alright!” Alison replied, holding up her hands. “We’ll discuss it at tomorrow’s meeting. That okay with everyone? ..Good. No one touch this until then.”

Dark. Damp. He feels as though he’s been buried alive. Buried dead. Dead. How does he know he’s dead? How does he know anything? He remembers the sun, the blistering heat. Blinding light and dry dirt beneath his feet. An ache in his chest. What is he missing? He feels as though someone has pulled his organs out of his torso. He feels hollow. He can’t truly be missing his organs. What then? Who? How does he know it’s a who? He feels homesick. Home. What is home? A house. Stretching tall and proud. A lawn and windows and a little room with a desk and a bed too small for two. How does he know it’s too small for two? Drunken laughter. That laugh. Who’s laugh is that? The ache in his chest intensifies. Who? Who? Who? He was somewhere. Before here. And somewhere before that. Where? Why? What is his name? There is a title on the tip of his tongue but it feels too familiar to be his own. C… It began with a C. North Africa. If he had lungs he would gasp. The pain in his chest turns searing, spreading through him. Arms, legs, chest, head, every bit of him on fire. He wasn’t aware he had a body, but he cannot be anything but aware now. It’s too much. White hot pain. Dark. Damp. He succumbs back into his slumber. 

“Alright! Only thing on the agenda: this box! Turns out it’s not a ghost coffin, but it is ghost related. Thomas thinks it’s what made Annie move on.”

“Sucked off.” Mary nodded to herself.

“Moved on. We don’t know what it is, but… It’s only fair that we all vote on what we should do with it.”

“I say we dispose of it.” The Captain stepped forward. “We don’t know what it does, but what’s the harm in not doing anything with it? I mean, look at it, it can’t-” He stopped suddenly.

“Captain?” Alison asked. “You okay?”

“I recognise that symbol. There was a crate of old coins here with that crest on; we made them into medals. I used to hand them out to winners when we held cricket tournaments. It was Ha- my Lieutenant’s idea. I didn’t know whether he was being serious or not, but- ..but that is of no importance! You don’t suppose this box has something to do with me?” He finished, looking around worriedly. “...Should I open it?”

“...No.” Alison replied. “We’re still not 100% sure it won’t ascend you. I’ll open it.”

Dark. Damp. Voices. One he recognises. That ache. It feels as though a heavy weight has been attached to his heart. It feels familiar. It feels like home. Should home ache so? It’s almost comforting. The ache has a soft edge to it now, like being slightly too close to a fire. Like feeling the burn on your fingertips without touching the flame. This ache is nice. It’s much less sharp. It feels like sleep. Like the sting of heavy eyelids closing. He wants to breathe. He wants to stretch. He wants to hold. What? Who? Who does he want to hold? It’s all so close, he can almost touch it. Like the throbbing of a migraine behind his eyes. Eyes. He wants to open them. He wants something more than the dark. Than the damp. Another familiar feeling. He has always wanted more. More what? More- light.

Alison pulled the lid of the box up slowly. The ghosts all stood back, retreating as far as they could without disappearing through the walls. The Captain stood closest, leaning in over Alison’s shoulder. Memories flooded through him, memories he tried so hard to forget. Memories, and the familiar twinge of hope. Havers beaming at him as he presented him with his cricket medal. The two of them, sun-drunk and giggling in the evening light at a joke neither of them could remember. The Captain sat awkwardly at the end of his bed when Havers got sick. Havers’ gentle hand on his shoulder when he was being congratulated, and on his elbow when he got overexcited. Havers. Havers. Havers. He knew it was foolish to hope, to dream again of long forgotten scenarios, to long for someone who existed years ago. But he cannot help it. The feeling is familiar, and too strong to fully hold back. A luminous fog drifts slowly from the opening in the box as Alison lifts the lid further and further off. It begins to take on the form of a person, two legs, two arms, a dash of green and gold where medals sit, brown eyes swirling into place, brown eyes the Captain loved too much to ever forget. 

"Havers.." He whispered, shock and hope and everything in between paralysing him. 

"Captain?" The new ghost replied, before falling to the floor with a thud, the box disintegrating. Alison held out an arm to stop anyone moving forward, but the Captain pushed through it, ignoring the bile rising in his throat.

"Havers!" The Captain shouted, reaching out to grab his arm. Before he got there, he hesitated, and moved his hand forward painfully slowly, scared it would simply go through. But his shaking hand found the fabric of Havers' coat, solid beneath his fingers, and he gripped his arm tightly, shaking him. "Havers?" The Captain asked, pausing his shaking to pull Havers into a sitting position. 

"He doesn't look like he's breathing." Alison said worriedly.

"Yes, well, none of us are, are we?" The Captain snapped.

"Right, yes. Sorry." 

"...Havers?" He tried again.

"Captain…" Havers responded, his eyebrows knitting together. "My head hurts." He croaked. The Captain replied by letting out a short bark of,

"Ha!", before his expression dissolved into that of immense relief. "You're okay, Havers." He reached for the side of Havers' face, before remembering that was entirely inappropriate and resting his hand on Havers' shoulder. "You're okay."

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“How is he?” The Captain asked Alison, pacing along the corridor outside Havers’ room.

“I’m not really sure. It’s kinda hard to check the health of a dead person. Like, is he pale because he’s dead, or is that just because he’s literally a ghost? It’s not like I can check his pulse or how slow he’s breathing. What if he’s just unconscious? Do you guys get dehydrated? I can’t give him water or anything, and how would I wake him up when I can’t even touch him? What if he just sleeps forever? Oh, God, what if-”

“Alison. Stop worrying.”

“I can’t! He’s obviously really important to you, and I wanna do everything I can to, like, reunite you guys, yknow?”

“He’s not important to me.” The Captain mumbled, somewhat indignantly.

“Captain. You called out his name like three times when he came out the box. Excuse my phrasing, but you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
The Captain didn’t reply.

“Who was he?”

“My Lieutenant. William Havers. The finest officer to serve under me.” He looked to the side to hide the pain in his eyes. Alison gasped.

“ Havers. I thought I recognised him from somewhere. He’s the one next to you in the photo downstairs, isn’t he? The one on Mike’s board?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you. I don’t even know which photo you’re referring to.” The Captain said, refusing to meet her eyes.

“He is, isn’t he! Oh my God, Captain! Why didn’t you say?!”

“Because he left for a front in North Africa!” The Captain snapped. “Because he completely abandoned me for stupid reasons and we’re still not sure why he’s here or how he got here! Because it could all just be some elaborate trick to ruin me, and take my position away from me, and I will not allow it to happen! Not under my command!” He shouted, before turning and storming off. Alison pressed her hands over her mouth.

“Captain?” A croaky voice asked from within the room.

“Oh, God.” Alison said, rushing through the door. Havers was pushing himself into a sitting position stiffly.

“Where’s the Captain? Who are you? How did I get here?” Havers asked, worry lacing his voice.

“I’m Alison. It’s nice to meet you. The Captain is currently… Indisposed. Sorry.”

“I was in North Africa. I was going over the top. I thought I got shot. I thought.. I thought I was dead. I was a ghost. It felt like a nightmare. But- but I’m back here. So it must have been. Just a nightmare. Just a bad dream. Right? Just a bad dream?” Havers' eyes met Alison’s hopefully.

“Havers… I’m so sorry. You’re dead. Still.”

“And the Captain?”

“Also dead. He has been for over 75 years. A-and so have you, if you died during the war.”

“The war ended 75 years ago?”

“Yeah. We won. I’m… I’m so sorry, I’ve never had to deal with this before. Should I go get the Captain?”

“It’s.. quite alright. I’ve never had to deal with this before either. Could you fetch him, if it’s no hassle?”

“No hassle at all. I’ll be right back.” She said, leaving Havers alone with his thoughts. He traced the outline of the bullet hole in his shoulder, trying to breathe every now and then before remembering he didn’t need to. The view from his window was almost identical, save a few extra trees and the length of the grass below. The sun filtered in through half-drawn, faded blinds left exactly as Havers had left them. So the Captain had left his room empty after he left. And so had everyone since. 75 years. A lifetime. It didn’t feel like it could have been only that. His time as a ghost on the front was just a shifting mass of half memories, the beating sun and desperate longing mixed with pseudo-sweat and dehydration. His idea of Hell, if he still believed in it.

“Havers?” The Captain said, stepping through the door into the room.

“Captain.” Havers replied, his face breaking into a smile.

“You’re… Real.” The Captain phrased his statement as disbelief.

“I… believe so, Sir.” Havers nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss. That is to say, I’m sorry you’re dead. The war must have been much harder to fight without you around.” 

The Captain smiled at his feet. “They won the war without me.”

“I’m sure it was a hard fought-for win without your genius, Sir.” Havers replied, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the Captain’s face. Come on. He thought. Just a moment. 75 years is so long to wait. Just a moment of the man I grew to love. The Captain’s smile widened, and he somehow found a way to look harder at the floor.

“Thank you, Havers. I…” He paused to clear his throat, shifting his gaze to the treeline out of the window. “I really missed you, Lieutenant. After you left and in death.” The Captain faltered at those last words, but did not shift where he stood. He still didn’t know how Havers was here, and if he disappeared before they could really go back to how things were… Saying that was the closest the Captain was ever going to get to telling him- well. To telling him.

Havers leant back in shock. “I-” He started, a wave of an emotion he hadn’t felt in a lifetime rushing through his body. “I really missed you too.”
Silence filled the room. It was as if it’s walls had been encased in soundproofing, like the two of them were stuck in their own little bubble. No sound from in or out. Neither of it’s inhabitants dared look at each other for the fear they would both dissolve into stuttering messes if they did, which was all too likely. The Captain’s eyes kept sliding along the window, moving again and again to keep Havers in his peripheral, those soft features he had loved so much. His neat hands, picking at his slender fingers as he did when he was unsure of what else to do. Those dark eyes. Always so full of unreadable emotions, like Havers was thinking things far beyond human comprehension, like a multitude of worlds existed in his head. In reality, the only thing running through his mind now was panicked static, as he tried in vain to think of other things in an attempt to stop the redness spreading across his face. He looked down at his hands, picking his fingers in a determined fever not to meet the Captain's eyes. It was the Captain who broke the oppressive silence.

"Ye-s, well. Good. Now we've, well, how- how are you feeling?"

"I… I'm a little in shock, still, I think. But physically…" His hand drifted subconsciously to his shoulder. "Fine." 

"That's good." The Captain nodded. "Sorry about your shoulder." He gestured vaguely.

"Thank you. It.. Doesn't hurt. Just makes my arm a little stiff, that's all."

The Captain nodded. "Still. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for, Sir." 

The Captain nodded again. "...Would you like a proper introduction to the others in the house?"

"There are others?" Havers asked, shifting to the end of his bed in order to stand. 

"Yes." The Captain offered his hand to help him up. Havers took it, pulling himself to his feet. "Nine of us, not including Alison and Michael, who are alive. Ten now you're here, if you don't count the plague pit people, which... No one really does. They don't leave the basement." The Captain, underestimating how heavy Havers was going to be, pulled him a little hard, and Havers stumbled forward into him. There was a moment of muttered apologies and eyes looking anywhere but each other, before Havers remembered he was still clasping the Captain's hand, and pulled it away quickly, stuffing it in his pocket to stop it from causing any more havoc. 

"Alison and Mike are alive? But Alison spoke to me." Havers said, not wanting to address his slip up. 

"Yes, Alison can see us. Near death experience involving a window and a ghost I really suggest you avoid. You'll meet him in a moment, I'm sure they're all waiting for us." The Captain said, leading the way to the main room. "Michael can't." He continued. "No near death experience. He still talks to us though. It's rather vexing, in all honesty." The Captain grumbled. Havers hid a fond smile in the corner of his mouth. "Here they all are." He concluded, waving his hand around the room where the ghosts were all sat impatiently.

"Nice bullet wound." Thomas commented, pointing to his own.

"...Thank you." Havers nodded hesitantly. 

"Come on, Thomas. Don't dive in that fast." Alison said, stepping forward. 

"Welcome to Button House! Or, welcome back, I guess. Um. Introductions! Yeah. Lieutenant Havers, this is Robin, Mary, Humphrey's head (his body will be around somewhere), Kitty, Thomas, Lady Button, Pat, Julian, and, well, you obviously already know the Captain. Everyone, this is Lieutenant Havers." Alison said, pointing to them all in turn. 

"Just Havers will be fine." Havers said, nodding. "It's nice to meet you all." 

"You too." They said their own variations of. 

"New ghost~!" Kitty sang loudly. "Why aren't you all more excited?" 

"Well, we didn't get to watch him die, did we?" Thomas said dryly. 

"I was looking forward to that bit." Julian added bitterly. "Latest death," he explained to Havers. "And what a way to go! Died during a massive or-"

"That's quite enough!" Lady Button interrupted. "No one wants to hear another story about your frivolity!" 

"Ohoho!" Julian laughed. "But frivolity is all I know!" He wiggled his eyebrows, causing Alison to roll her eyes.

"Oh my God, this is going even worse than I thought it would. I'm so sorry." She said to Havers. 

"It's quite alright." Havers smiled.

"HELLO! I'm Pat! I know you lived here, but I was wondering if you'd like a tour! I can show you all the chambres (that's french), and where we-"

"Nothing has changed since we died, Patrick." The Captain input. "And if anyone were to give Havers a tour, it would be me. Wouldn't it?" He turned to Havers. Havers looked between the two of them, slightly panicked. 

"I- Well. I would want to settle in slowly, you understand." He said to Pat. "And.. I already know the Captain." He pulled his hand out of his pocket to pick at his fingers.

"No, that's alright! A-okay! Ha ha! I'll be going now!" Pat said, turning and walking out the room. "I NEVER GET TO GIVE ANYONE THE TOUURRR" Echoed through the wall, slightly muffled. The Captain and Havers exchanged a look. 

"RIGHT." Alison shouted. "EVERYONE OUT THE ROOM. How on earth did you guys manage this before I was here?"

"We didn't." Robin commented, nodding at Havers before leaving with the others, right as Mike entered the room. 

"Everything okay? I heard shouting. What have they done now?" 

"There's.. A new one."

"A new ghost? Wait, did someone die? Who died? Oh, God, It wasn't Barclay Beg-Bitches was it? Please, please, please tell me it wasn't him."

"No, Mike, no one died. There was a box-"

"I told you that was a ghost thing! What, did it like, deliver one to us?"

"..Yeah."

"Oh. I was joking."

"Yep. I know. But the Captain knows him, so it's okay. He's- Y'know the picture of the Captain up on your board?"

"Yeah?"

"He's the one next to him in that. Lieutenant Havers."

"Oh! Okay, cool. Hellooo, Lieuutenant." He said slowly, looking just above Havers' head. Havers looked up, and then, after seeing nothing, down at the Captain.

"Why is he doing that?" He asked, leaning in so the Captain could hear his whisper easier.

"He can't see us, and apparently that means we're stupid and floating." The Captain replied, voice full of disdain. Alison smiled.

"Mike, they're just here." She pointed to the two of them. 

"Oh. Hellooo." He waved slowly. Alison sighed. "And goodbye! The boiler's messing up again. Can you come translate?" He asked, turning to Alison.

"Yep!" She nodded. "Gotta go." She told Havers. "I'll see you around!" She said, before following Mike to the basement.

"Sorry about them." The Captain said. "You get used to it. There's not much to do as a ghost. You start to welcome the chaos, believe it or not."

"I believe it." Havers replied, remembering the ghosts haunting the front. 

"Do you.. Want a tour?" 

"Well, I don't really need one. But it would be nice to reminisce."

"Yes, it would be. Where first?" 

"Your office?" Havers suggested, remembering their first meeting. The Captain nodded, features softening as he remembered the same thing.

"Let's go." He said, leading the way.

Chapter Text

"Just to warn you," Billy said, stopping Havers before he entered the Captain's office. "He takes his job very seriously."

"Well, he is a captain." Havers replied, giving him a small smile.

"Mm, see that's the thing. He thinks he's The Captain. He's a little self-important. You get used to it." 

Havers nodded in reply as Billy opened the door. 

"Lieutenant Havers, Sir." He announced. "I'm to be replacing Lieutenant Conroy."

"Ah, yes." The Captain nodded, looking up from the papers on his desk. He paused as he locked eyes with Havers. There was something about him almost instantly. A softness round the eyes, or the hint of a smile playing in the corners of his lips. There was something gentle in the way he held himself, and in the lack of calluses on his outstretched hand. Like the eye of the storm, a glimmer of peace in the middle of a war.

"Yes, well." The Captain continued, trying to fill the gap he had accidentally created by staring. "Welcome to Button House." He finished, shaking Havers' hand with a firm grip. 

"Thank you, Sir."

"The others should be eating dinner at the moment. You're welcome to join them if you're hungry from your trip."

"Will you be coming down to eat as well, Sir?"

"Ah.. I'm a busy man, you understand."

"You must eat, Sir, if you'll excuse my forwardness."

"I will eat later."

"Understood, Sir."

"Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant.. Havers, was it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Very good. I will see you tomorrow at breakfast." He cleared his throat. "Dismissed." 

Havers nodded, and exited the room. 

"Mess hall's just that way. I'll catch you up in a sec." Billy said, before poking his head round the Captain's door. "Opinions, Sir?"

"He was rather… Soft spoken, wasn't he?" The Captain commented, trying to quell the feelings rising in his stomach by turning something he had already come to like into something to be mocked. 

"I'm sure he'll liven up soon enough, Sir." Billy concluded, shutting the door behind him, and jogging to catch up with Havers.

"I hope not." The Captain muttered to himself, shifting himself in his chair as if to dispel his emotions. The way he said 'sir', soft and gentle, full of respect. He imagined the way he might say 'captain', the plosives perfectly pronounced. He imagined the way he might say 'very good, sir' or 'quite right', each word like a jewel falling out of his mouth. He imagined the way he might say 'care for a dance, sir?', or 'Theodore' or even just 'Teddy'- no. The Captain took a sharp intake of breath through his nose, and shook his head, trying to disperse his thoughts. "Stop this at once, Theodore." He muttered to himself. "You've only just met the man." 

"See what I mean?" Billy asked, having caught up with Havers. 

"Slightly, yes." Havers gave Billy a wry smile.

"You get used to it, as I said. Watch out though. Don't let him like you too much. Some nasty rumours going round about the real reason Conroy left the army."

Havers opened his mouth to ask what he had meant, but then they arrived, and the question died in his throat. Havers let himself dwell in his thoughts as he stirred his soup around his bowl, staring straight ahead, slowly tuning out the others on his table as they exchanged stories about a girl in the nearest village. He thought about how the Captain had looked when they had locked eyes. Like a deer caught in headlights. No one had ever looked at him like that. It made him feel… nice. He looked down at his soup, hoping to hide his expression from the rest of the table, but they were paying him no notice anyway. He let a small smile in acknowledgement of his feelings slip through the wall he had built for the sole purpose of keeping said feelings out, forgetting to fill up the hole when he was done. 

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“Good morning, Captain.” Havers said, sitting opposite the Captain. It was the quietest table in the room, a welcome relief from the rowdy shouting of the one he had been sat on the night before.

“Ah, Lieutenant Havers. Good morning. This is Sergeant Day, Sergeant Patterson, and that's Second Lieutenant Webb.” The Captain replied. Havers nodded at them all, smiling slightly. “You’ll get to know them all soon enough.” He continued, sensing Havers’ nervousness. Havers nodded again, before quietly beginning his breakfast. The Sergeants went back to their conversation, and Webb back to staring out of the window opposite them. Havers kept his eyes on his toast, knowing that if he allowed himself to look up he would only end up staring at the Captain. A part of him wanted to see that look again. Havers pushed that part down, and swallowed his toast.

“How did you sleep?”

“Well, Sir, thank you for asking. This house is quite charming.”

“Indeed it is. Our compensation for being so far away from the action, I suppose.” He smiled.

“Yes. You wouldn’t happen to know how much free time we are allowed, would you Sir? I would love to explore the grounds.”

“A few hours a day not including meals. I like to keep everyone on a busy schedule. We can’t afford to forget the war just because we are distant from it.” Havers nodded. “Although it gets dark too early this time of year. I would be happy to show you around once it gets lighter in the evenings, though, if you’d like.” Havers nodded again, much more enthusiastically this time. The Captain forced down a grin.

“Yes, Sir, I’d like that very much.”

“...Are you settling in okay? Not taking an offense to anyone you’ve met?”

“Well…” Havers smiled, glancing over his shoulder at the table he was seated at the night before, where the men sat there were in the midst of a water chugging competition.

“Yes. Our most junior soldiers. They are quite…”

“Annoying?” Havers filled in with a droll smile. The Captain let out a short laugh.

“Yes. I was going to approach it with more tact, but yes.”

“My apologies, Sir. Tact really doesn’t come to mind when one considers them.” The Captain laughed again.

“Well, thank God you’ve got a sense of humour. The last Lieutenant was the drabbest man I ever met. No personality in him at all.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Sir, but if you don’t mind me asking… What happened to Lieutenant Conroy? Lance Corporal Cranor said there were some rumours about him.”

“Ah, Billy. No one calls him by his proper title; he insists on it. Ignore him. He’ll tell a tale about anyone he knows the name of. Lieutenant Conroy was honourably discharged. Accident with an explosive. He is alive and… As well as one can be, when one suddenly finds themself missing limbs.”

“Oh. Apologies for my foolishness, Sir. It is not normally like me to believe things so readily.”

“That’s quite alright, Havers. No fault of your own. I will have a word with him.”

“Ah, no need for that, Sir. I wouldn’t want to make an enemy on day one.”

“As you wish, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

A silence fell over the two of them. The Captain watched Havers finish his toast, and then wipe his hands on his napkin methodically. Havers downed the last of his coffee, and as he tipped the mug back to drink the last dregs, their eyes locked. The Captain got that look again, as though he had forgotten he was really there, and that Havers could see him watching. Havers put his mug down haphazardly, in a rush to speak before the blush could reach his face.

“Is everything alright, Sir?”

“You know you don’t have to call me sir every time you speak to me, don’t you? You’re only one level of command below me. I’m not that much your superior.” The Captain smiled warmly.

“Understood. My apologies, Sir- Cap- ..My apologies.” Havers smiled earnestly. The Captain chuckled.

“Very good, Havers. You’re improving already.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Havers said, joining him in his laughter. 

-------------------------------------

“Havers!” The Captain had caught him right as he was heading inside after training.

“Captain!” Havers smiled, coming to a halt just outside the door. “I was just heading to your office for today’s report. I’m not late, am I?”

“Ah, the report.” The Captain’s face fell.

“Is everything alright, Sir?”

“Yes, I-” The Captain waved his hands around his head. “Must have forgotten to factor that in. I was hoping as the sun is setting at 1900 hours tonight I could give you that tour of the grounds?”

“Oh!” Havers’ face lit up. “Of course! I would like that very much.” He went to place his hand on the Captain’s arm as a show of his enthusiasm, but remembered where he was and who he was talking to half way through the action, faltered and put his hands in his pockets. “And if it makes you feel better, I can give you the report on the way.” He smiled.

“Yes, that would be very nice. Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve been here a few months, so I assume you know the place well enough to not need showing round the gardens. You can give me a brief report on the way to the woods.”

“Okay.” They set off. “Just basic physical training today, Sir, as scheduled. No correspondence, no injuries bar Webb, who has lightly sprained his ankle again.”

The Captain tutted. “Always Webb, isn’t it? Anyone else would think he was trying to get himself discharged.”

“Oh, no, Sir, just an accident again, he assured me. Simply wasn’t looking where he was going.”

“Yes.” The Captain sighed. “I have the misfortune of knowing him well enough to believe him.”

“He’s quite the daydreamer, isn’t he?”

“Indeed. Sometimes I wonder about what on earth he could possibly have left to think about. He must have run out of thoughts by now, surely?”

Havers chuckled quietly. “I’ve no idea how he came to be Second Lieutenant.”

“I don’t think anyone else does either. Anything left to report?”

“No, Sir. Our two new recruits are settling in well, but other than that, it’s been a rather uneventful day.”

“It’s not bad to have a quiet day every once in a while.”

“Quite right, Sir.”

“And you? I know you’ve been here a good few months now, but sometimes it can take a little longer for commanding roles to settle in. How are you finding it?”

“Oh, very good, Sir. I have to say you are a much better Captain than my last.” Havers smiled at him.

“Oh- Well- Th-ank you, Havers. What makes you say that?”

“Hm.” Havers said, tilting his head to the side as he thought of a way to say his thoughts without really saying them. The Captain watched on, trying to conceal the adoration that was bubbling up behind his eyes. “I’m not entirely sure, Captain. Just something about you. Your vigour, perhaps.”

“Mm.” The Captain replied, looking around him as if he were incredibly interested in the trees beginning to thicken as they walked further into the woods, instead of just trying to distract himself from the beating of his own heart, and the phrase just something about you circling around his head. “Thank you, Lieutenant. It’s always nice to have good feedback.”

“Any time, Sir.” Havers smiled. “I think this is the furthest I’ve ever been.” He said, looking at the trees around them.

“Yes, this area is very rarely used. The only time anyone comes this way is for swimming in the summertime. It’s always quiet out here. I used to come out here to think before it got too dark to.”

“Swimming in the summertime?”

“Oh, have you not been informed? There’s a lake on the edge of the property. If we’ve a warm enough afternoon off most of us come through this way to swim in it.”

“Is it in this direction?” Havers asked, trying to veil his excitement.

“Yes, vaguely. I can take you to it if you’d like?”

“Yes, please, Sir. Thank you.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of them. The birdsong was gentle and the breeze still, leaving only the bite of the cold to chill them. The Captain watched Havers out of his peripheral as they walked, noting the way he dug his hands into his pockets after beginning to pick at his fingers absentmindedly. The way his steps fell in time with the Captain’s automatically, despite their height differences. The way his eyes dart around them, taking in every little detail, as if he had something to avoid looking at. Something he didn’t want to face. Someone- no. The Captain stopped himself, instead following Havers’ suit and turning his attention to their surroundings. The trees were old and still damp from last night’s rain, bark glittering in the late-afternoon sunlight. Leaves were just beginning to poke themselves out of branches, the scattering of green throwing splattered shadows on the path they were walking down. The dirt was soft beneath their feet, and it’s fresh, earthy smell was drifting idly in the air, along with the scent of new life, like a new god was quietly birthing itself inamongst the shrubbery. Everything was painted gold in the evening sun, its gentle brushstrokes covering the world in honey, making everything seem muffled and hazy apart from Havers and the Captain, who were kept painfully aware due to their closeness, the way their shoulders came too close to bumping every few steps. The trees around them thickened as the path got wider, bending towards something, and soon there was a horizon visible between the trunks. 

"Here we are." The Captain said, leading Havers onto a small path that came off the main one and through some bushes. They emerged onto a small, rocky beach, where the lake, still cold from the winter, lapped against the shore. The waters were still with no breeze to push them, and the sun, beginning its descent towards the treeline, cast its rays over the surface, bouncing back light onto their faces as oranges and pinks drifted their way onto the lake. 

"It's beautiful." Havers commented, remembering he wasn't supposed to have reactions like that a moment too late. "That is to say, it's quite the lake, Sir."

"No, no, I agree with you. It's a beautiful sight." He replied, although it wasn't the lake he was looking at. 

"A beautiful sight, indeed." Havers agreed, not seeing the Captain's eyes lingering on him. "There was a lake like this on the outskirts of the village I grew up in. We used to paddle in it every day until the sun went down in the summer months. I think of those days often, when the war gets me down."

The Captain watched Havers intently, trying to find a way to ask him to go on without sounding too keen. He wanted to listen to him forever. 

"I would have loved to have had a lake like this when I was a boy." He said instead. 

"I suppose the swimming here makes up for it?" 

"Yes, it does somewhat." The Captain nodded.

"Although it is a long way till summer yet." Havers replied, almost wistfully. The Captain eyed him from the side, trying to figure out if Havers had meant what the Captain thought he had. He decided to make the leap, saying,

"You have my permission to paddle now if you'd like, Lieutenant, if that's what you're implying," with a small smile. Havers' eyes widened. 

"I was not, Sir, but…" He looked down at his shoes, considering it. He turned back to the Captain. "Would you be coming in too, Sir? I'd feel a little foolish if it were just me going in alone." 

"I-" The Captain hesitated, weighing up his options. A part of him wanted to do anything to watch Havers' face light up as it did when he told him about the lake, but a bigger part knew he would feel foolish commencing in such a frivolous activity, even if he was doing it for reasons important to him. "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. It would feel improper. You are very welcome to, though." He said, trying not to put emphasis on the very. 

"That's alright, Sir. I will wait until summer." Havers gave him a small smile. 

"I hope it comes early for you." The Captain replied.

"Thank you, Sir. Thank you very much."

Chapter Text

Havers was getting used to his new situation weirdly fast. Kitty had, of course, taken an immediate liking to him, and he was doing his best to steer clear of Lady Button’s wrath and Julian’s… Well, general Julian-ness. He had listened to the death stories of every ghost willing to share apart from Julian, who, the Captain had informed him, died in the sort of circumstances one cannot discuss in polite conversation. Havers had replied that no death was really polite conversation, but the Captain simply shook his head, looking harrowed enough that Havers never even mentioned death when Julian was in earshot. There were, of course, lingering habits left over from life that Havers was yet to abandon. Most mornings he could be found making his way to the main room only to remember it was no longer the mess hall, and then dejectedly wandering around the house until he found another ghost that could distract him from his melancholy with the day's activities. Almost every day he would hear a clock strike 1100 and reach for the post in his pocket before remembering HQ had stopped delivering messages to Button House over 75 years ago. The amount of times he had reached for the kettle in passing, deciding that the Captain really could do with another tea, and watched as his hands phased through the metal had reached too many to count. At first, the daily reminders of his death had hurt, starting with a sick feeling in his stomach that soon spread throughout his whole body, but he quickly began to adopt an attitude much closer to Humphrey’s about his body, shrugging and sometimes muttering a quiet, what can you do? that the Captain was beginning to find rather endearing. He slowly but surely began to settle into the ghosts’ chaotic routine, quietly listening during the first few activities, but gradually getting more and more involved as the weeks went on. Soon he was giving daily talks with the rest of them, quietly talking them through things like his process of keeping the roses in the garden alive through the war - something the Captain wasn’t even aware Havers had done until he had come across Havers and Lady Button talking together in front of one of the bushes during his patrols. 

All of the ghosts were warming to him very quickly, even if only - in Julian’s case - because it seemed to annoy the Captain endlessly. There were, of course, a few bumps in this road. Namely the discovery that Julian was no longer the only ghost who could touch things. This revelation had happened one morning during Havers’ talk of the day when he had absentmindedly gone to pick up a pen Alison had left on the nearest table to demonstrate something and, to everyone else’s surprise, held it aloft successfully.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” He asked, when everyone’s mouths fell open.

“Havers! You’re holding something!” Pat shouted excitedly.

“Oh, yes. So I am. Oh! Wait, but I thought ghosts couldn’t-”

“We can’t! Only Julian can touch things!”

“Well- but I can’t touch things. I haven’t touched anything else.”

“Quick! We need to see what else you can pick up, come on, follow me!” Pat stood, gesturing for all the ghosts to follow as he ran from room to room, pointing things out to Havers for him to reach out to touch only for his fingers to ghost through. The chaos even attracted the attention of Alison, who came out from her office to see what all the commotion was about. They ran through every room in the house with no results until they stumbled into Mike's office, and Havers went to push his hand through a stack of paper on his desk, and felt it solid beneath his fingers. His arm jolted.

"Oh." 

"Pen and paper! Makes sense, sorta!" Pat grinned. 

"Why though? Why me? Why just that?"

"Maybe it's got something to do with your life? Like, Mary's burning smell thing is because of her death. I dunno, did you write anything important in life, or anything?"

At the back of the room, the Captain's hand flew to his breast pocket, feeling the corners of his letter through the fabric. He did not meet Havers' eyes.

"I… No. Nothing." Havers said dejectedly. 

"You sure? You seem.."

"It's nothing. I didn't write anything much."

"Hmm." 

"Well now that's over can we get back to your talk of the day?" Pat asked. "We wouldn't want to run over into What I Would Wear If I Could Today, Today time!"

"Y-es, quite right, Pat."

"Back to the main room!" He announced, already leading the way. Havers followed behind silently.

During the first full moon, Havers had ventured out into the grounds alone, missing the summers of his youth when he used to stargaze in the field behind his house, watching for shooting stars and naming every constellation visible on the nights he was allowed out. He had come across Robin, stood staring up at the sky in the very clearing Havers used to use when he was alive. He had quietly stood next to him, and waited until Robin spoke first, not wanting to disturb him.

“You like Moona?”

“Yes.” Havers smiled. “And the stars. I used to stargaze when I was young.”

“Why not when old?”

“Ah, I got busy. The war. I didn’t really get time for it. A shame, really.”

“All time in world, now.”

“Yes.” Havers let out a quiet chuckle. “I suppose so.”

“Moona, always here. Even when others not.”

“...How long were you alone?"

“Too long.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. Not all sad. Had Moona.”

“Yes. Thank God for Moona, hm?”

Robin made a gruff noise, nodding in agreement. From then on, they shared an understanding. Whenever the sky was clear and the moon was out and they were free, they would find each other in the late evening and head out to that clearing, sitting in silence and wonder. It only took the first night that Havers alerted Robin to the possibility of shooting stars that they became good friends, exchanging smiles and nods and facts - or beliefs, in Robin’s case - about the moon and the stars and everything else that filled up the night sky. 

Humphrey was incredibly easy to please. He was used to the way new ghosts were. Every time a new arrival - with the exception of Julian, who didn’t care about anyone or anything until he was way too used to Humphrey’s head - turns up, they take great care to include him in what’s going on, taking him from room to room as they move about during the day, and reuniting him with his head when they could, until slowly but surely they began to forget. He never held it against them, but was even more grateful when someone new turned up so he could once again join in with everyone. So when Havers remained polite, remembering where Humphrey’s body was and carrying his head with him as much as he could, for longer than most ghosts do, he was over the moon. Once Humphrey had asked Havers why he did it, and Havers had simply told him it was because he was still a person even if his head didn’t connect to his body, which was more than anyone had told Humphrey in years. 

His relationship with Thomas developed all in one afternoon. Up until that day they had been polite but distant, neither one quite sure what to make of the other. That was, of course, until Thomas had realised what was going on between the Captain and Havers, and began to take a sudden interest in his feelings, diving straight into the romance before even asking how he was.

“My opinion on the Captain? Well, I respect him greatly.” He had answered an eager Thomas. Thomas’ face fell.

“No! None of that formal nonsense! Tell me your real opinion.”

“That.. Is my real opinion.”

“Well, yes, of course it is, but I mean, give me more. ”

“Er, okay. Well, we’re very good friends. Uhm. We worked together for a few years when we were alive. He’s a very good captain.” Havers smiled. “Always knows what he’s doing. That sort of thing. Was that what you’re after?” He asked a disbelieving Thomas.

“I do not care whether you think he’s a good captain or not! TELL ME WHY YOU LOVE HIM, DAMN YOUR EYES.”

Havers nearly jumped out of his skin. “Love?” He spluttered, getting very strong deja vu.

“Yes, love! How am I meant to write poetry about your pining when you won’t even admit you love the man? God’s sake-”

“Oh!” Havers smiled, realisation lighting up his face. “You’re a poet!”

“Yes.” Thomas said proudly. “I am.”

“Oh! That explains it. I knew a poet when I was alive. You would have liked him. Private Miller.”

“You were friends with Miller?” Thomas’ eyes widened. “I used to read his journal over his shoulder! He was magnificent, was he not?”

“Oh, well, I never got to read any. He kept it very secret.”

“Well I must tell some to you! He was the best poet this house had seen since me!”

Havers nodded eagerly. “And in return I can tell you some stories of what he was like as a person if you’d like?”

“Yes! Oh, a thousand times yes! Come! Let us go find somewhere with better lighting for my reading.” Thomas said, already dragging Havers to a room with bigger windows. Now, whenever they passed each other in the corridors, Thomas would not so subtly ask about the Captain, and Havers would avoid his question with another story about Miller, which Thomas ate up readily. Havers tried his best to avoid stories about any interactions they had when they were discussing the Captain, which was difficult as that was all Miller ever bugged him about. But the reminder of his life, and a dear friend, was nice and comforting and he was thankful for the echo of someone he once loved in Thomas’ enthusiasm. 

It took Havers much longer to figure out a way onto Lady Button’s good side, but the opportunity presented itself one crisp spring morning when he was reminiscing about his first spring at Button House. Someone had said something about the sun setting later now it was spring, and he had been momentarily transported back to his and the Captain’s first walk to the lake, and was on his way there when he caught sight of Lady Button mumbling to herself over a rose bush that had grown wildly since he had left and no one had picked up his duties of caring for it.

“It’s an impressive garden, isn’t it?” He asked, standing beside her.

“Yes, indeed. It’s a shame Alison has let it fall into disrepair.”

“Hmm. I used to care for these bushes when I was alive.”

“You did?” Lady Button turned to look at him, for once not doing so down her nose.

“Yes. I picked up the gardening duties when I arrived. They were too beautiful to go to waste. The war was important, of course, but… I told myself it was to boost morale among the men.” He smiled. Lady Button did not respond to his latter comment, which he took to be a good sign.

“Well, you did a good job. They most likely would not have survived without your care.”

“Thank you.”

And from then on, Lady Button wasn’t quite so harsh on Havers, and Havers was ever so slightly less scared of her. And, sometimes, when they both happened to be in the garden at the same time, they would find themselves at the same flower, talking about its prime and how to care for it. Lady Button would never admit it, but she was secretly growing rather fond of Havers and his plant knowledge, and was thankful for his presence. 

The Captain, of course, was the easiest to please. They were rarely apart, if one was in a room, chances were the other wouldn’t be far away. It would have been enough for the Captain if Havers was simply there, unhearing and unseeing, but he was solid when the Captain had an excuse to touch him lightly, and appreciative of the things the Captain said or did. Plenty of times, the Captain had come across Havers simply standing in his old office, sat opposite his old desk with his eyes closed, or scanning the walls for echoes of the past, and the sight was enough to stir up old feelings the Captain was trying very hard to keep quiet. They had taken to sitting there quietly some evenings, the comfort pseudo-life feeling it provided was a strange warmth the Captain hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Havers?” The Captain asked. He had watched Havers hesitate outside the threshold, and then walk through the door. He had waited a moment before following him, and found Havers staring out of the window.

“Captain.” Havers replied gently, turning to face him.

“At ease, Lieutenant.” The Captain smiled. Havers relaxed his posture. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I was just… Remembering.”

“Of course.” The Captain nodded. “You may take your seat, if you’d like.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. Havers nodded, and sat down as he always used to, scanning the ceiling despite it looking almost identical to what it had looked like when he was alive. The Captain took his seat on his side of the desk, watching Havers.

“How are you finding it?” He asked.

“It’s… I’m adjusting.”

The Captain nodded. “It does take some getting used to.”

“It’s all the easier for having you here, Sir.” Havers smiled.

“Ah, thank you, Havers.” The Captain paused, thinking about how he’d forgotten what it meant to feel full. “I must say it’s quite a comfort having someone around who was alive with me.” All those years, everything he knew slowly draining away. He watched so much disappear he began to go numb to the sensation, and now suddenly he could feel again, and it was a simple ecstasy. First it was just a gentle fizz, the quiet knowledge that Havers was there, and could be found and looked at and spoken to, and he would look and speak back. But now it was unfolding, stretching like something awoken from a slumber, a yawning feline, and it was beginning to tune itself into melodic humming, his heart strings beginning to sing again. The evening light turned Havers into a painting, and he became very hard not to admire when the Captain was suddenly remembering every other time Havers had turned golden in the light, all that love and adoration, lying dormant for decades now awakening.

“Yes, I understand. I’m glad I ended up here. I’m not quite sure how that happened, but… The ghosts on the front… It wasn’t-” Havers cut himself off. Every so often he could get a flash of gold and red, all those men still bleeding, even in their death. All that wailing. He thought about it so often when it got quiet and yet he still couldn’t remember whether those awful sounds were coming from him or not. “It was enough to make a man go mad.” He finished, trying to make light of it, but the Captain saw through it, his eyebrows knitting together with concern.

“You- ...You may talk about it. To me. If you want.” The Captain offered, focussing all his willpower on not reaching over and taking Havers’ hand.

“It was… Well, sort of- it was- ...horrible. All these ghosts, just wailing and screaming and crying out for… For their mothers, their wives, their friends… There were-” Havers breathed in sharply, closing his eyes in a grimace. “Body parts. From shells. Still moving. Trying to find their owners. Ghosts missing half of themselves. I don’t know -- if it was me? Or- or just the area, but the taste of blood never left the air. And I was… So thirsty. Somehow. All the time, I didn’t even- I thought I’d been sent to Hell.” The Captain gave into his instincts and slid his hands across the desk, taking Havers’ into his own. Havers squeezed them in thanks, still not opening his eyes. “And I couldn’t- I just kept thinking- I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. ” The last word came out as a sob. “I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve all that- all that- all that. I was so thirsty, and so hungry, and so- so alone. I never really made any friends on the front. I didn’t- we were all just silently waiting to die. And then- then we did! And we were all just -- alone. There wasn’t anyone to explain what was going on, or why, or how or- or anything. We were all just…” Havers drew in a shaky breath. “It was so loud. There was so much wailing. And- and- and I know it’s foolish of me to have survivors guilt when I’m- we’re all dead! Nobody survived but- but I got out. And they didn’t. I abandoned them.”

“No.” The Captain said. Havers opened his eyes slowly, coming back to the room. “You did not. You didn’t ask to be moved. You didn’t purposefully leave them. You did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve- God, Havers. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Havers said shakily, removing his hands from the Captain’s to wipe his eyes roughly. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and then let out a heavy sigh, standing and brushing himself off by force of habit. “Well, I- ...Thank you.” He finished, nodding before letting himself out of the room, leaving the Captain alone in the office they used to share.

Chapter Text

The world was alight with a sharp electricity. It was late spring, the first heatwave of the year, and almost everyone’s eyes were drifting idly towards the woods, trying to see past the trees to the coolness of the lake they knew waited beyond. Even the Sergeants were getting listless, and they never seemed to care about anything. The drills were slow and tiring, and there wasn’t a cloud or a breeze in sight, only the vast expanse of blue inhabited by the burning sun. Everything was sticky and all anyone wanted was to lie still, so when lunch came and the Captain came to join them to find everyone asleep under various bits of shade, it was his only option to call off the rest of the day, and allow everyone to traipse their way to the lake. The men talked quietly amongst themselves as they walked, the oppressive nature of the heat making it impossible to raise one’s voice. Havers spotted the Captain behind him, and fell back so they could walk side by side. The Captain greeted him with just a nod; talking and walking at the same time was too much effort in the suffocating warmth. Havers made that effort anyway.

“It looks like summer really did come early, Sir. It’s terribly warm for mid-May.” He commented quietly.

“Yes, indeed it did. Looking forward to finally getting your swim?” The Captain smiled up at him.

“Yes, Sir, very much so.”

The Captain nodded in reply, and that familiar silence fell again. 

When they arrived, Havers was one of the first in. While others hesitated and stepped in slowly, letting themselves adjust before they sank fully into the cold, Havers was swimming the moment it was deep enough, pushing himself to the other side and back in the time it took some to strip to their vests and shorts. The Captain took off only his jacket, leaving on his shirt and trousers, before unfolding his chair and taking a seat. There was laughter and splashing from the middle of the lake, where most of the men were treading water and exchanging stories and jokes now the heat couldn’t touch them. Havers was with them, grinning widely. He looked the happiest the Captain had ever seen him, like the lake had restored him. The Captain spent the remainder of the afternoon like that, half dozing, watching Havers under the pretence that he was watching over all of them, making sure they stayed safe. Really, all he was watching for was the sight of Havers' pale, agile arms as he swam, or the sight of his head bobbing above the water when he stopped to talk to someone, or admire the view. The Captain placed his eyes carefully when they began to file out, drying themselves in the sun or on their discarded clothes, making sure not to look away, but not to look too hard either. However, when Havers emerged - the last to leave of course - the latter half of his plan failed miserably. The water had turned Havers’ vest slightly see through, and his clothes were sticking to him as he dried off his hair with his shirt. Upon seeing the Captain, he smiled, pulled on his trousers and his now wet shirt, and wandered over.

“Thank you for giving us the afternoon off, Captain.” He said, ever polite despite being drunk on the release of the crisp water compared to the relentless heat of the sun.

“You are very welcome, Lieutenant. I trust you enjoyed your long awaited swim?”

“Oh, very much so, Sir. Thank you again.” Havers nodded, only just beginning to button up his shirt. The phrase just something about you entered the Captain’s mind as he took in the boyish grin Havers gave him, and the tousled state of his hair. The Captain wouldn’t call it cute but… He certainly did take every opportunity to take everyone down to the lake after that afternoon. Any mention of hot weather or restlessness, even in passing conversation, and the Captain would announce another afternoon off. The youngest group of Privates took to competing for who could mention it the most, keeping a tally on their wall through the summer. It was a summer full of swimming, and slowly, accidentally, falling in love. 

----------------------------------------------------

It was one such afternoon that Havers found himself alone on a beach on the other side of the lake, with only Nick Miller for company. Miller was quiet and reserved, with big eyes he used for watching people. He kept a journal, which he claimed was filled with poetry that would make him famous one day, although no one had ever been able to get into it. Havers was sat on top of a boulder at the end of the beach, gazing at something - someone - back on the other side. Miller was lying on his front at the foot of the boulder, cradling his head in his arms.

"You work directly under the Captain, don't you?" He asked, rolling over to look up at Havers.

"Mmh." He hummed noncommittally, his attention still firmly on the person on shore. 

"What's that like?"

"Why?" Havers asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts to look at Miller. "Wanting to move up the chain of command?" He half joked, anticipating laughter in reply. Instead, Miller responded with a cry of,

"God, no!" Which made Havers chuckle in turn. "I'm more interested in the two of you."

"The two of us?" Havers questioned, not catching on.

"Yeah." Miller replied, not answering Havers' question at all as he turned back to watching the Captain. 

"Well, me and the Captain couldn't be more different."

"That so?"

"Yeah. He's all business, which I suppose makes sense. He's a captain, and there's a war on. He's serious and strict and knows what he's doing, and how and why he's doing it. It's a little intimidating, if I'm honest." Havers smiled. "But mainly just impressive. I'm nothing like that. If he's all lines and corners then I am just one big wiggly circle." He finished, throwing his hands in the air.

"That's rather poetic, Havers."

"Was it?"

"Yes. Expand on that. About being a circle."

"For your poetry?"

"Sure." Miller shrugged. "Why not?" 

"Okay. Well, I… I don't know. I think I'm a little sentimental sometimes. And unprofessional. Sometimes I react to things… I don't know. I get enthusiastic when I'm not supposed to. You're a poet, I'm sure you understand. The lake. I don't think he dislikes me for it, but sometimes I worry I'm getting in the way of his plans."

Miller thought for a moment, considering.

"It's not your fault he finds you pretty." He said at last. 

"What?" Havers asked, whipping round to face Miller, his attention now firmly rooted in the conversation. Miller grinned. 

"Don't play dumb. I see it. The two of you. It's cute. Budding romance and all that. Good for my poetry." 

"What? What are you talking about? Nothing is happening between me and the Captain. He does not find me- pretty." Havers spat, a heavy blush spreading rapidly across his face. Miller laughed. 

"Of course nothing is happening! Yet. You're both in denial about it still."

"I'm not in denial! ...Because there's nothing to deny!"

"Why else would he be getting so off track? All these trips to the lake. It was not like this last summer. You're really telling me you don't think the reason we're down here so often is so he can see you in just your vest and shorts?" 

"I- no!" Havers said, looking down at his wet vest, before curling in on himself in an attempt to crush the butterflies that were spawning rapidly in his stomach. "This is entirely inappropriate." 

"You don't like hearing about how much the Captain likes you?" Miller questioned, grinning. He already knew the answer. Havers threw him a desperate look over his shoulder, that somehow said in equal parts god, no, please stop and wait, no, carry on at the same time. It was all the confirmation Miller needed as he broke out into a gleeful cackle. "Oh! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. That is absolutely magnificent. Oh, absolutely.”

“I will not sit and listen to this.” Havers replied, jumping down from the rock and beginning to wade into the water.

“Miss the Captain, do you?” Miller grinned, getting to his feet. Havers stopped suddenly.

“How can you be so confident I won’t tell him what you’re saying? You could be dishonourably discharged. They’d strip you of your- well, of your everything.” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Are you really telling me you think you can repeat what I’ve said to the Captain without going redder than a tomato?”

“I-” Havers stopped himself, beginning to go, as Miller had so poetically put it, redder than a tomato at the prospect of telling the Captain everything Miller had implied. “I am not telling you that.” He said at last. “I’m telling you to be more careful with who you accuse of what. I will not report you, because-” He paused, the words because you’re right dying in his throat. “But someone else might. You’re a good man, Miller. You don’t deserve what might happen to you just because you’re…”

“A loudmouth?”

“...Yes.”

“Thank you for your concern, Sir, but I’m incredibly careful with who I tell what. There’s a reason no one has found my journal.”
Havers nodded in reply, before turning back to the lake.

“Love is not an accusation, Lieutenant.”

“It is for me.”

“It shouldn’t have to be. If you ever need anyone to talk to about it, or.. To get anything off your chest. I know you’re used to keeping secrets, but it does feel nice to tell someone about this stuff. If you ever need said someone, come find me. Okay?”
Havers turned back to face Miller.

“Do you- Does he-” He paused for a breath. “Do you really think he finds me pretty?” He asked in a small voice. Miller grinned, that gleeful look re-entering his face.

“Oh, absolutely. It was subtle before, y’know, just something in the way his eyes lingered. But since that first day at the lake, when you came out grinning, hair messed up, vest sticking to your chest. I don’t think he’s looked at you the same since.”
Havers tried to contain his smile, but it was plastered across his face almost as widely as his rapidly deepening blush before he could even attempt to stop it. 

"Go!" Miller grinned, pushing Havers in the Captain's direction. "Go to him! Ask him to accompany you on a swim or something, I don't know. Find a secluded spot, maybe…"

"Stop." Havers tried not to laugh. "Thank you, Miller."

"You are more than welcome, Havers. But seriously. Make some moves. He definitely likes you."

"...I'll consider it." He said, before diving in, and swimming away. And consider it he did, swimming in circles until he came to a conclusion, getting lost in the expanse of it all, the sky and the lake and of love. He spent so long considering that by the time he got out, last as usual, Miller was already on the shore, drying off. The Captain was in his usual chair, trying his best to watch Havers without too much intensity, and failing for the most part. Havers caught him looking, and, Miller's words still echoing round his head, began to walk over before even grabbing something to dry himself with. He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to look like he was messing it up intentionally, and sat down on a rock next to the Captain's chair. 

"Oh, h-hello, Havers." The Captain said, that familiar deer-in-headlights expression entering his face. Havers tried not to giggle.

"Hello, Captain." He said instead, leaning towards him just slightly, but not facing him, instead purposefully looking out to the lake. The Captain followed suit subconsciously, shifting in his chair so he was just the smallest bit closer to Havers.

"...Are you not going to dry yourself?" The Captain asked, not wanting to gulp in case he did so too loudly.

"Oh, no, that's alright." Havers said, leaning back to allow the sun to hit him fully, letting out a contented sigh as he closed his eyes. The Captain tried not to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. "It's a warm day. I'll sun-dry."

"Ah, yes. Very good, Lieutenant." 

There was silence only for a moment before Havers took his chance. "I've actually been meaning to ask you something, Sir, if that's alright?" 

"Yes?" The Captain tried to slow his breathing. 

"Why do you never come in with us?"

"Oh. Well, someone has to watch over you all-"

"If you don't mind me saying, Sir," Havers said, meeting the Captain's eyes at last. "I'm afraid I don't believe you."

"Well, what could possibly-"

"Sir. I know you're a busy man, but," Havers placed a hand on the Captain's arm. It was cool through the thin material of his shirt. "You have to take a break sometimes. At least come in once. For a quick paddle, if not for a swim. Just once?" The Captain could not resist.

"Okay." He nodded. "Next time. I will paddle. I cannot promise you a swim. But I can promise you a paddle. Satisfied?"

"Let's shake on it." Havers suggested, jumping up to stand opposite him. The Captain smiled and shook his hand, trying to ignore the way his fingers felt in his. Havers grinned.

"Thank you, Captain. I look forward to it." He said, before walking off to join the others. The Captain looked at the hand that had just been in Havers' in bewilderment, not fully understanding what he had just agreed to. 

Havers did not walk with the Captain on the trudge back to the house as he usually did, but instead hung near the back of the group, turning the day's events over in the back of his mind. He wanted to think of the lake, and what Miller had said, and other, simpler things, but the only thing on his mind was the way the Captain had looked when his hand was on his arm. He smiled to himself just as Miller spotted him, and came bounding over, bouncing their shoulders together as he did so. 

"I saw you two just now." He grinned. 

"Oh, don't." Havers said, in the sort of tone that Miller knew from experience meant he fully well wanted him to carry on. 

"What did you get him to do? I saw your hand on his arm. He really cannot say no to you, can he?" 

"I convinced him to come in next time we have an afternoon off."

"Havers!" Miller gasped. "No one has ever done that before! I don't think I've seen him enjoy himself once! Good Lord, you are a miracle worker. Planning on finding somewhere sheltered, perhaps? Somewhere pretty, with trees and sand? A nice place for a first kiss-"

"Shut up, Private Miller." Havers grinned, looking at the floor, a faint blush painting his cheeks. 

----------------------------------------

The next afternoon off could not have come slower for Havers. He spent most of his free time watching the sky, in the hopes he would catch a glimpse of that blue expanse, a hint for warmer weather coming soon. Something in him had shifted since Miller had spoken to him. They hadn’t talked properly since, only brief greetings as they passed each other in hallways, but Havers was unable to see him without seeing the Captain’s deer-in-headlights expression, eyes wide like they had found something they wanted to take in whole. Unable to speak to him without hearing he finds you pretty echoing in his head, those catalyst-words affecting everything he said and did around the Captain, always watching for a reaction, always aiming for that look. He really tried not to. Made tea in the mornings for the whole table, not just for the Captain like he wanted to. Waited until he had real reasons to stop by at his office instead of waltzing in every time he crossed his mind, which was often. His pretty secret, like a gem in his chest, was only getting prettier. The two weeks or so between the last swim and the next were tepid and grey, an uncharacteristic cloudy spell in the middle of July, but for Havers, the world was warm and light with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And then, one fateful morning, a storm finally rolled over Button House, leaving nothing but sun, summer air, and the promise of a swimming day tomorrow in its wake. 

The Captain had tried very hard to forget about his agreement with Havers. It followed him around like a shadow, always there in the back of his mind when he was supposed to be focussing on more important things. There was a small, anxious knot at the pit of his stomach that had taken control of his brain, and now a large part of him was hoping that somehow Havers had done the impossible and forgotten too. Of course, everything about the way he was acting was telling him the exact opposite had taken place. The day the storm came down upon the house, there was a buzz of excitement about him, as if he knew it would lead to sun, and, if the gods were kind, a warm enough day for swimming. The day after he had called out a cheery,
“Hello, Captain!” Accompanied by a wide grin as they had passed each other, and the Captain had to remind himself not to smile too widely back as the now-familiar feeling of butterflies rose in his chest. It was soon followed up by, “Warm enough day for a swim?” And, as usual, the Captain found himself too weak to say no.
“We’ll see what the others say.” He replied, already formulating a way to convince everyone it was, in fact, too hot for anything else. 

It was obvious as soon as they arrived that Havers had not, in fact, forgotten. He sat down, telling anyone who asked that he was tired, and might have a small nap before coming in. He had, the Captain thought, never looked more awake. Once the only people left were Havers, the Captain, and those asleep in the sun, arms thrown over their eyes, Havers stretched and stood, beginning to unbutton his shirt as he made his way over.
“I trust you remembered your promise, Captain?” He asked, quieter now the noise of the other soldiers had disappeared along the edge of the lake as they raced to the mouth of the river it fed. He had something about him that he had the first time they had been there, a slight nervousness in his eyes combined with something softer the Captain couldn’t give a name to.
“Ah, yes, of course. A paddle.”
“Indeed, Sir.” Havers replied, stepping back to allow the Captain to stand to take off his shirt and trousers. He watched him fiddle with his buttons quietly, trying to dispel the thought of offering to help to the back of his mind. The Captain cleared his throat quietly, to which Havers raised his eyes to meet his.
“I know my shaky hands are unusual for a captain, but there’s no need to stare.” He tried to joke, but the nervousness in his voice came out much more apparent than any confidence he was trying to put on. Havers blushed, and turned away while muttering flustered apologies. Havers stepped into the lake slowly, taking his time as if to savour the moment. The Captain joined him after a moment, and Havers raised his gaze to meet his eyes.
“...Is the lake to your liking, Sir?” Havers asked, unable to gauge a reaction just from the Captain’s facial expressions. The Captain nodded.
“It’s not as cold as I thought it would be. I always worried about how fast you went in. The cold can be.. Dangerous. Lieutenant.” The Captain said, only realising what he had admitted after the words were gone.
“Thank you for worrying, Captain.” Havers said softly, a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth. The Captain returned his look, before shifting his position, and swirling the water around with his leg.
“You could come in fully for a swim, if you wished, Sir.”
“No, that’s alright, Havers.”
“May I ask why not?”
“I would have to get wet. And then I would have to dry myself, which wouldn’t even fully work, so I would have to walk back wet. It all sounds like a terrible inconvenience.” Havers laughed. “And anyway, it would be rather undignified of me to do so.”
“Everyone else is in, Captain. No one would think any differently of you. Some might think even more highly of you.” Havers suggested, giving him a look that told him exactly who would be the one thinking more highly. The Captain smiled fondly.
“Even so. There would still be the matter of all the inconvenience of having to dry off.”
“So… If you were already wet? You’d swim?”
“...Yes, I suppose so. ...Why?”
“So… If I were to..” Havers kicked some water at the Captain, and it splashed up to his waist. Havers tried in vain to keep a straight face.
“Havers! Stop this at once!” The Captain exclaimed, a not unpleasant shock plastered across his face. Havers laughed and kicked again, harder this time, soaking the Captain’s chest.
“How dare you disobey orders from a superior!” He shouted, but he was smiling.
“Ah, Sir! I’m afraid if you want to stop me you’ll have to come in and get me.” Havers replied, facing the Captain and walking backwards into the lake, an expectant look across his face.
“Oh, fine! I’ll swim with you.”
“Yes!” Havers laughed, triumphant. “I will take you to my favourite beach.”
“Okay.” The Captain smiled slightly nervously. “Don’t swim too fast though. I will not be able to keep up.” Havers grinned, nodded, and then set off. 

“Here we are.” Havers said, standing in the shallows at the opposite end of the lake to where the rest of the men were swimming. It was one of the few sandy beaches along the whole lake, and was somehow yet to be discovered by the less avid swimmers among the soldiers. It was a steep edge up from the beach to the grass above, but climbable, and Havers had done so a few times on quieter days. Near the edge, there were clusters of mossy rocks, soft enough to sit on, but cool and in the shade under the trees clinging to the ledge above the beach. The beach itself for the most part was in the sun, golden light hitting golden sand. It was the sort of place where, on the right afternoon (as this one was), you’d want to exist forever. The lake itself thinned in the middle, so the beach was just out of sight from both the one they’d left behind and the river mouth where the rest of the soldiers were swimming. It was quiet but for the gentle birdsong and the occasional sound of horses hooves going past on the path above the beach towards the village.
“It’s… I can see why it’s your favourite beach.” The Captain replied, pushing himself to his feet a few steps behind him.
“Yes. I come here when I want to think. I’m not sure what I’ll do when summer ends.” He chuckled quietly.
“Well… I know my office is nowhere near as nice as this is but… It is quiet. And it’s always open to you. If you want it.”
“I- That would be wonderful, thank you Captain.”
The Captain nodded in reply, before walking out of the water and onto the sand. Havers followed him, finding a spot of shade on the sand and lying down. The Captain followed suit, trying not to look like he was putting too much thought in where he lay, although in reality it was all he was thinking about. Not too close, but not too far. In the end, it was futile, because as soon as he lay down Havers shifted his position so they were closer. The Captain could feel the heat coming off of the arm closest to him, knew without even looking that if he moved his hand just slightly to the side it would be touching Havers’. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Each was sure the oppressive nature of the silence was only apparent on their end, and the other found it comfortable. 

"How are you-" The Captain started, at the same time as Havers began with,

"Got a wom-"

"Oh, you go first, Havers." 

"Oh, no, no. You first. You are my superior, after all." 

"Hm. Titles don't feel like they apply here."

"Is that you giving me permission to not have to call you Captain or Sir while we're here?" Havers turned to look at the Captain, smiling. The Captain chuckled. 

"Fine. Permission granted." Havers grinned.

"Then," He said, pausing to turn himself onto his stomach, leaning on his elbows. "What am I to address you as?" The Captain flushed slightly.

"Are you.. Asking for my name?"

Havers nodded. 

"Oh, well, I don't- I'm not sure that is information I can give you."

"You know mine."

"I know your surname. That's entirely different. And anyway, I'm your captain. I don't think it would be appropriate."

"I thought you just said titles don't apply here? You're not my captain now."

"Er, w-well, yes- I mean, that is to say… Oh, very good, Havers. I can't argue with that one, but no. I will not give you my name."

"How drunk do I have to get you for you to tell me?" He joked. The Captain chuckled.

"I wish you luck in that endeavor, Havers." 

"Thank you. And don't call me Havers. No titles."

"Havers is not your title."

"No, but it feels like one."

"Fine. What is your name?"

"Mmm, I'm not sure that is information I can give you." Havers grinned. The Captain chuckled.

"Well played, Ha- Well played."

"Thank you." Havers smiled, flopping back onto his back. 

"What were you saying? Before? You started to ask a question."

"Oh, no, nevermind. Thinking about it now, it feels inappropriate. You are my captain."

"Not at the moment, I'm not. Ask away."

"Well, I was going to ask if you had a woman. Back at home. Waiting for you, but… I don't know, you're not really the type, are you?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, no offense, but I can't picture you as a lady's man." The Captain chuckled.

"No, I suppose you're right there. And, as it happens, I do not. Do you?"

"No, I don't. I'm not really a lady's man either."

"Really?"

"You're surprised?"

"Yes, I am a little. You have the sort of face women like, I always thought."

"Mm." He hummed doubtfully. "A woman once told me I was too soft to be a man."

"Soft? In the way you look?"

Havers shrugged. "In general, I suppose."

"Some women like pretty men though, don't they?"

Havers felt like the ground beneath him had given way at the word pretty.

"Pretty?" He managed to choke out, turning his head away so the Captain wouldn't see the deep blush spreading across his face. The butterflies in his stomach were flapping their wings so wildly he wanted to curl up and dissolve them, but he couldn't show any reaction to the Captain's words. He could hear Miller's laugh in the back of his mind, and any semblance of confidence their conversation had given him was gone, fallen away with the ground beneath his feet. 

"Yes." The Captain replied, not noticing Havers' flustered state, or choosing not to. "I think so. I think my sister talked about it to me once. Pretty boys, or something like that."

"Oh, that's not what I- no, yes. I mean- well, yes, I suppose so. They do. Probably. I don't have a sister." Havers spluttered. 

"Are you quite alright?" The Captain asked, sitting up to look at Havers' face. 

"Yes!" Havers said, sitting up too, nearly knocking their heads. "The heat must be getting to me." He laughed nervously, fanning himself with his hands. 

"Yes, you're very red." The Captain commented. Havers felt his stomach dive, butterflies and all, and resisted the urge to close his eyes, fall back into the sand and pretend none of this had ever happened. 

"Must be the he-" Havers started, but stopped when the Captain placed the back of his hand against Havers' forehead, checking for a fever. 

"Can't have our Lieutenant overheating!" The Captain said, moving his hand down to Havers' cheek, where the blush was reddest. Havers was too flustered to make a comment about titles. The Captain went to meet Havers' eyes to inform him he didn't feel like he had a fever, but when their eyes locked it all hit the Captain. Why Havers was so red, what the Captain had said, the position they were in, sat facing each other, alone, the Captain's hand on Havers' cheek, and he pulled away suddenly with the realisation. 

"Doesn't feel like you have a fever!" The Captain practically shouted, pushing himself away and lying back down, refusing to look anywhere but the trees above them. Havers was thankful for the distance. 

"What were you saying earlier?" Havers asked, not wanting any silence. He didn't want to listen to his thoughts, which were running wild and unstoppable. "You started to ask a question before I interrupted."

"Oh." The Captain replied, remembering that the world existed outside the moment they had just shared. "Yes, I was going to ask how you swim so fast."

"Oh, I just grew up swimming I suppose. My village was on a lake edge. I spent every summer day in that lake with the other kids. It comes as naturally as walking, now."

"That must have been nice."

"Yes. Although it does mean I miss swimming terribly when I can't. These summer afternoons are wonderful, but… I'm not sure how I'll cope come winter. I've gotten attached to it again."

"Yes, that must be hard. At least you have the summer though, I suppose?"

"Yes. I'm very lucky to be stationed here."

"Shame we're so far from the fighting."

"The fighting would stop us from swimming."

The Captain chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it would." 

"You have enjoyed your swim, haven't you, Sir?" Havers asked, genuine worry in his tone. The Captain smiled, and did not correct him on his use of his title. Perhaps it was best they maintained some professionalism. 

"Yes, very much so. I don't know if I'll be doing it again, but-"

"What? Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but you must! Why not?"

"It still feels… Rather silly. For a captain to be wasting an afternoon on horseplay in the lake."

"Sillier than a captain wasting an afternoon sleeping next to it?" 

The Captain raised his eyebrows at Havers, but he just raised his back, and the Captain's face broke out into a smile.

"You make a good point. ...You're sure the other men wouldn't think any differently of me?"

"Absolutely."

"...Maybe I will swim again, then. Only maybe." He added, before Havers could get excited. They shared a smile, before Havers pushed himself upright. 

"We ought to start heading back. The sun is beginning to set."

The Captain sat up, nodding. Indeed it was, painting everything golden and pink. The sand beneath their feet was warm and glowing amber, and the lake itself was like a great shining coin. 

"Oh, and-" Havers turned to face the Captain. "Thank you, Captain. For swimming with me." The Captain took in the sight before him, Havers painted in the low light like a young god, before mumbling a polite you're welcome and following Havers back into the water. Of all the things that had happened that day, all the things the Captain experienced, the lake, the beach, something that felt almost close to flirting, the thought that left the strongest impression, the thing that left the sharpest taste in his mouth, was the growing sense that pretty was becoming an understatement. 

Chapter Text

The ghosts were quiet. The day's usual activities had been done only because Lady Button and the Captain had insisted, and not out of any enthusiasm from anyone but Havers. No one told him why. He found himself wandering the house in search of some life after no one bothered to turn up for music club, and didn't bump into anyone until he found Alison.

"Alison?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"Why is everyone so quiet today?"

"Oh, they were like this today last year. I think it's someone's death day, but I'm not sure who."

"Death day?"

"Yeah, like the anniversary of when they died. It's not normally this quiet on them, it must have been a bad one. Yknow, like, Thomas' is normally just annoying, and Pat's is kinda funny. But I haven't asked. I don't wanna just in case I ask the wrong person."

Havers nodded. "I understand." Alison's eyes shifted to a space over his shoulder in the doorway. 

"Afternoon, Captain." She said, somewhat cautiously.

"Captain!" Havers spun around to face him, standing to attention. 

"Havers." He nodded. There was something subdued about the way he spoke, none of his usual commanding boom. "Would you like to join me on my patrols today?"

"Of course, Sir." Havers replied, picking up on his tone right away. 

Their walk was quiet. The Captain spent most of it looking at the floor, watching his feet move them forward, his hands behind his back. He could feel Havers glancing over at him, trying to catch a glimpse of his face to scan his emotions. He hadn't spoken, like he was waiting for the Captain to say something. The Captain wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. How he was supposed to say it. How does one talk about their own death? He knew most of the other ghosts knew. Of course they did, they were there for it. But he had never spoken of it, never performed it like Thomas or joked like Julian. It wasn't in his nature to be so forward about something so important to him, and to tell the story would mean explaining why. And he couldn't do that. He knew they wouldn't care. He knew most of them probably knew, or figured it out, or at the very least had a hunch. He knew all of that. But saying the words meant accepting it and… He wasn't ready for that yet. 80 years and more to come to terms with it - for it still somehow felt something like a loss - and he still hadn't managed it. His one shortcoming. All that proof and he still couldn't face it head on. Was still waiting to grow out of it. He coughed.

"It's my death day today, Havers."

"I'm very sorry, Sir."

"Thank you." 

Silence fell again. 

"May I… May I ask how you died, Sir?" 

The Captain sighed. "I haven't… I've never said it out loud before." 

"You don't have to." 

time period accurate homophobia starts here

"No, I- ...I was murdered. Poisoned." 

"What?" Havers grabbed the Captain's arm out of concern, and then quickly pulled his hand away, shoving it in his pocket. "Surely not, Sir? A spy?"

"No, not a spy. He was on our side."

"Then, why…?"

"He, er. I was… He suspected I was a homosexual." 

"So he killed you?" Havers spat, breathing heavily despite not needing to, anger crystal clear in his voice. It shocked the Captain, and he looked up to meet Havers' eyes. He had never seen him so angry. Havers, always calm, endlessly patient, his jaw tense and set tight, fists clenched as thought he were ready to throw a punch. The Captain nodded. 

"Who?" Havers asked, still looking as though he were made of fire. The Captain shook his head.

"It is of no importance-"

"It is of the utmost importance! You were murdered , Sir, poisoned! That is a coward's way to kill, I will-"

"You're dead, Havers. We're both dead. As will he be."

"But-!"

"Havers." The Captain placed a calming hand on Havers' arm. Havers pulled his eyes from the middle distance to look at the Captain, his eyebrows furrowed. 
homophobia ends here :)

"God, Captain." Havers pulled the Captain into a sudden tight embrace, hand gripping the back of the Captain's coat. "I'm so sorry." He said, pulling out of the hug before the Captain even had time to raise his arms and stepping back as far as his legs would allow him. The Captain stood silently, slightly in shock, looking like a man missing half of himself. He coughed and adjusted his posture, standing straight. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Havers nodded.

"It would- ...It would be fine if you were."

"What?"

"I mean, that is to say, I wouldn't think any differently of you. If you… Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A homosexual, Sir."

The Captain met his Lieutenant's eyes, trying to decipher the emotions swirling in them. It was a cocktail of hope and defiance, that anger still prominent in his features. The Captain searched for the right answer in them. Could he tell him? Tell the truth? Say the words for the first time in his existence and admit his deepest secret to the person he was closest with? He could not. And what if Havers was lying? Would think differently? Start looking at his actions under the right light? The Captain couldn't bare that, but… He could not lie. Could not say no. He knew it was foolish to dream that Havers felt the same way, but he could not stop reading the emotion on Havers' face as hope, no matter how much he tried. He knew exactly the way in which Havers' face would fall should he lie. He could not bare that either. Could not even consider the idea that if he said no now he might ruin whatever miniscule chance he had. So he settled on saying neither, and landed somewhere in-between.

"That is a very personal question, Havers." 

"I understand. My apologies, Captain."

"That's quite alright, Lieutenant." 

"It-" Havers sighed in frustration. The one time he needed his words to work. "It really would be fine if you were. I- I know you haven't- haven't said you are, or anything, but, well, just- not in case, but, if- if you happen to be. I am not- accusing is not the right word, but- I am not accusing you of anything. If you are, I really wouldn't think any differently. At all. I myself-" Havers faltered. Not now. "Knnnew homosexuals. When I was alive. A-and that was, well, that was fine. And you are- well, I consider you to be, that is to say, you are my dearest friend. I know that doesn't mean as much when we are surrounded by people from completely different times, but you were in life as well. My dearest friend. I do-" He skirted around the words I love you. "It would not have made a difference in life, and it will not now." 

The Captain could not help but smile fondly at Havers, who had pulled his hand out of his pockets to pick at his fingers somewhere in the midst of his speech. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant. And it of course goes without saying I would not think any differently of you , should you be one." He raised his eyebrows slightly at Havers, who flushed and dropped his gaze to his feet.

"Thank you, Sir." He said quietly, placing his hands behind his back.

"Shall we continue our patrol?"

They walked on in silence.

Chapter Text

Havers placed the bottle of whiskey on the Captain’s desk. The evening was drawing in, only a slither of gold was left tracing the horizon, and the expanse of the night sky was weaving its way into all the rooms, leaving the men feeling weirdly cold in the dark. It connected with a heavy thud, and the Captain looked up from whatever paperwork he was still working on hours after most of the men had gone off duty.

“Havers.” He smiled. “Again?”

“I’m afraid so, Captain. Are you free enough tonight?”

“You would think that after three consecutive days of saying no, you would have taken the hint.”

“Ah, unfortunately Sir, I am very determined. Why do you not want to celebrate your first swim?”

“Is it really such a momentous occasion?”

“Yes! Come on, please? I will work late tomorrow to help you catch up.”

The Captain looked over to where all of his yet-to-be-done paperwork was sat. He was already a few days ahead, but Havers did not know that, and the thought of the two of them quietly working together only a metre apart for an hour or two was convincing enough to allow the Captain to nod his head. “Fine.” He pulled two glasses out of one of his desk drawers, filling them with Havers’ whiskey. “To my first swim.”

--------------------------------------------------

“Another glass!” Havers said.

“We’re out.” The Captain replied, already slurring his words slightly.

“What?” Havers’ face dropped. “You haven’t even told me your name.” The Captain laughed loudly.

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Noooo?” Havers tried, his face melting into that boyish grin the Captain had come to adore. He laughed again.

“While I admire your cunning, Havers, your plan stops working when you tell me about it.” Havers laughed.

“Oooorr, you could tell me your name now! Then there is no plan. And it also worked. Win-win.”

“That makes absolutely zero sense. What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want! I will literally do anything. ”

“Anything?” The Captain asked, shifting his weight forward. The tone change in the room was palpable. Havers held his breath, not wanting to disturb it, and then nodded without replying verbally. The Captain tilted his head to the side, considering. He thought of all the things he could ask Havers to do, all the things he could blame on the whiskey, all the things he only let himself think about when he was in the safety of his own room, and couldn’t accidentally wreak all that havoc without thinking. But he only shook his head, smiled slightly, and asked Havers to fetch them both more drink.

“And you’ll tell me your name?”

“And I’ll think about it.”

Havers rolled his eyes fondly, and left for the cupboard downstairs where they secretly kept their alcohol. 

“I brought up two more bottles.” Havers announced, re-entering the room.

“Two! Good God, man. How much do you think we’ll be drinking? There is a war on, we can’t really afford to be hungover.”

“That entirely depends on how drunk you have to be to tell me your name.” He replied, pouring them each a glass. The Captain chuckled.

“Now is drunk enough." He paused, taking a breath, and tried to convince himself it wasn't as big of a deal as he felt it was. "It’s Theodore.” He said, watching eagerly for Havers’ reaction.

“Theodore.” Havers repeated, trying out the way it felt in his mouth, and then he smiled. “I love the name Theodore. It suits you.” The Captain tried not to blush.

“Thank you, Havers. It- Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. My name is William.”

“William.” The Captain smiled. William.

“Theodore.” Havers replied, and then, to the Captain’s surprise, giggled. “Sorry.” He laughed. “I’m not sure why I’m finding this so funny.”

“No, that’s okay.” The Captain smiled, about to join him in his laughter. “I’m finding it a little funny too.” They laughed together.

"I really brought up these two extra whiskey bottles for nothing."

"Oh, come on. You can't have planned your whole night just around finding out my name?"

"Well… I honestly didn't think it'd be this easy."

The Captain laughed. 

"I do apologise! Next time I'll make it more of a challenge."

"Oh? And what information will be up for grabs next time? What's another secret you hold close to your chest I can have?"

The Captain blushed. 

"Well, there isn't really any-"

"There must be! Your first name can't be your only secret. Please?"

"Absolutely not."

"Theodore-"

"Do not try that on me. And you're not to tell anyone my name. Understood?"

Havers nodded. "In all honestly I'm not fully sure I'll remember it." 

The Captain laughed. "And there you have it. Your reason for those two extra bottles." Havers grinned, and poured them both another glass.

And from there the night dissolved into hazy, shifting memories. Moments slid into one another and time stopped running on a linear track like it was supposed to. Both their chairs were tucked as close to the desk as they could be, the Captain resting his elbows on it and leaning forward as he animatedly talked about whatever topic their conversation was drifting through or listening intently as Havers did the same. At some point, one of them had suggested that, as it was past midnight, they were most definitely off duty and certainly did not need their jackets on, so they were both discarded in a heap at one end of the desk. Havers had loosened his tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt and the Captain was very busy trying in vain to ignore the triangle of skin they revealed. The Captain had rolled up his sleeves, almost in retaliation, and Havers was trying his hardest not to marvel at the revelation that the Captain had forearms. The room was warm from the heat of the fire, and they were both thankful they had something to blame their flushed faces on, and even more thankful that the other did not ask. 

---------------------------------------------

“Do you really find me pretty?” Havers blurted. A tired silence had fallen and he had accidentally started thinking, and then to his horror had even more accidentally started speaking. The question came as a shock even to him, he hadn’t even thought it before he said it, just relived the memory of the Captain’s words mere days ago in his head when he was rudely awoken from his thoughts by the sound of his own voice. It was what he had wanted to ask back then. When he had struggled to splutter out the word pretty? what he had actually meant was, you find me pretty? but in the heat of the moment more than one word was too much to muster, and the Captain had, purposefully or not, misinterpreted the question, which at the time he was thankful for, but now. Now he was drunk and craved a confession.

“What?” The Captain asked, his posture straightening as he went on alert.

“When we were swimming. You said women must like me. Because they like pretty men.”

The Captain did not reply.

“I mean,” Havers continued, “I guess you didn’t actually directly call me pretty, now I’m thinking about it.”

Still no reply.

“So… Yeah, nevermind then I guess. Of course, no, yeah, no, of course not.” He poured himself another glass. “I’m not pretty. My-”

“That’s not-” The Captain started. He cleared his throat, and then shifted his gaze so he was staring directly at Havers. Havers looked back at him from half under his hair, his hand frozen where it was still hovering over his glass from pouring himself more whiskey. “You are pretty.” He continued. It was almost confrontational, like he was daring Havers to laugh at him. Havers did no such thing.

“That wasn’t what I asked.” He said slowly. He did not break eye contact, and the Captain could feel his face going redder and redder as his butterflies mixed with the whiskey in his stomach to create a swirling mass of sickness which made him dizzy.

“Yes, I do find you pretty.” He said quietly, turning to his side to look anywhere but Havers, that confidence gone. Havers smiled widely, almost closing his eyes in happiness.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” He said, reaching forward with the hand that wasn’t holding up his heavy head and using his finger to pull the Captain’s face back round gently so he had no other choice but to look at Havers, “I find you very handsome.”

“Thank you.” He croaked, his throat tight. Havers’ hand was still on his face. It lingered there for a moment, neither of them moving, before dropping to his glass, where he used it to knock back the rest of his whiskey.

“Well!” He announced, standing suddenly, trying not to sway on his feet. “It is time I retire to my room.” He paused for a moment, taking in the Captain as if it were the last time he would ever see him. “Goodnight, Theodore.” He said softly, before quietly slipping through the door and away into the night. The Captain did not move, stunned into silence. He blindly poured the last of the whiskey into his glass, drinking it on autopilot as he tried desperately to comprehend what had just happened. He tried not to think about how he would have to return Havers’ jacket now, how he would have to see him personally in the morning, enter his room to give it back, or Havers would come to him. Without his jacket. Half dressed and in the Captain’s room. He shook the thought away. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted the feeling of Havers’ fingers on his face etched permanently into his memory or whether he wanted to forget it forever so he would not have to deal with the consequences of such a relationship-shifting action. He decided to leave it up to fate, letting the alcohol decide whether to spare him or not - whichever one sparing was - and stumbled into bed, dazed and confused and achingly alone. 

“Havers?” The Captain knocked on his door, praying he wasn’t in the middle of getting changed.

“Come in.” Havers replied, sounding more hungover than the Captain somehow. He felt hope rise in his stomach as he entered. Maybe Havers wouldn’t remember why his jacket was on the Captain’s floor either. “Ah, Captain. Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” The Captain smiled. “How much whiskey did we have?”

“In all honesty, Sir, I really can’t remember. Everything starts to get blurry after I brought up those two extra bottles. We didn’t drink both, did we?” Havers asked, pulling himself out of bed. The Captain averted his eyes, not wanting to take in his bedhead or even what his pyjamas looked like. The room was far too small for the size of the Captain’s emotions.

The Captain groaned. “I think we did.”

“Oh dear.” Havers smiled. “...Is there something you wanted me for, Sir?”

“Ah, er, yes, Havers, your- your jacket was in my office.” The Captain held it out, not looking up from the floor.

“Oh.” Havers blushed. “Right. Well, thank you. For -- bringing it to me. If- If that’s all?”

“Yes. Yes, my apologies. I’ll let you get back to…” The Captain gestured vaguely around the room, still not meeting Havers’ eyes. “Nursing your hangover.” He smiled at the floor. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Ye-es.” Havers replied, as the Captain backed out of the room, closing the door firmly with a click behind him. Once he was safely out of sight, Havers let his flushed face fall into his hands. “Oh, God. Why’d I drink so much?” He groaned into his palms. “Why was my jacket on his floor? Whyyyyyyy,,,,” He collapsed into a ball on his bed.

“Havers!” Another voice shouted, bursting into his room without any warning. Havers put his hands over his ears.

“Could you shout any louder?” He croaked, still not unfurling from his fetal position.

“I don’t give a damn about your hangover!” Miller whisper-shouted excitedly. “Was that the Captain just now? Handing you your jacket back?”

“Why are you everywhere in all the worst times?”

“What did you two do last night?”

“I don’t know! I can’t remember anything, can I? We had three bottles of whiskey between us.”

“Christ alive.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Stop grinning.”

“I’m not!” Miller said defensively, the grin evident in his voice. “You can’t even see me!”

“Unfortunately, I know you too well.” Miller laughed, and then began to cackle.

“Nick, please, my head.” Miller giggled.

“Apologies, Will.” He joked. “But-”

“Nnooh my God.” Havers sat up suddenly, wide eyed and cradling his throbbing head.

“What have you just remembered?” Miller grinned.

“We told each other our names.”

“You WHAT? ” Miller shouted, and Havers had to close his eyes until the world stopped spinning. “You know the Captain’s first name ?” He whisper-shouted. Havers nodded slowly.

“Havers!” Miller shook Havers’ shoulder.

“Miller,,” Havers groaned.

“You’re in. You’re practically married now.”

Havers tried to frown in retaliation, but just ended up blushing heavily instead. Miller cackled again.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your hangover.” Nick said, standing, still grinning. Havers looked at him tiredly. “Have fun~” He called, before walking out, leaving Havers alone in the wake of his realisation.  

Chapter Text

"Right." The Captain said. Everyone was gathered in the room bar Havers and Mike, who had both been told tonight’s meeting had been cancelled, not - as Lady Button pointed out - that Mike ever bothered turning up. Alison had replied that it was fair, really, because he couldn’t actually see, hear, or interact with them, and Lady Button had huffed, and gestured to the Captain impatiently, a signal for him to hurry up and start. “Well, there’s only one important matter on the agenda today.”

“Yes.” Alison interrupted, moving to stand. “We’ve got some people coming to look round the house for an event this winter tomorrow, so if you could all-”

“Actually, Alison, no. That’s not what I was referring to.”

“Oh.” Alison sat back down. “Then what-”

“It’s Havers’ birthday in two days time. Apologies for the short notice, but I really couldn't trust you all to remain secretive for a sustained amount of time.”

“Oh. Well that’s not really that important, is-”

“It is of the utmost importance!” He snapped, before coughing and bouncing back onto his heels. “It’s his first birthday with us. I want it to be nice. Is that really too much to ask?”

“Well, no, but I don’t see how it’s more important than-”

“Because it is! Now, I have a plan laid out for it. Of course, we can’t really give him presents or make him a cake because, well, we’re dead. And so is he. But I still have some requests. First of all…”

By the time the Captain had finished laying out his incredibly detailed plan for how everything was supposed to look, Alison had had to find multiple maps of the house, and almost a bottle of wine. Or three.

“I mean… Captain. This is… It’s quite a lot. Just for a birthday.”

“Yes, well, it’s not just a birthday is it!”

“Yeah, Alison.” Julian piped up from the corner. “It’s Havers’ birthday.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Exactly.” The Captain replied, not picking up on Julian’s tone at all, sending him and Robin into a laughing fit at his complete obliviousness.

“Ugh. Fine. I can do,, some of this.”

“All.”

“Most?”

“Fine. Most will do. But that has to include the trip to the lake. That is vital.”

“What if it rains?”

“Then we will swim in the rain! God, Alison, where is your drive? Your motivation? Your vigor! We didn’t win the war-”

“With attitudes like that, I know, I know. I’ll get on it. But only after I’ve shown the people round tomorrow afternoon.”

“Fine. Dismissed.” The Captain concluded, turning on his heel and walking out. Alison put her head in her hands.

“This is so much. And for what?”

“For romance.” Thomas said, a faraway look in his eyes and a tremor in his voice. “If you were Havers, Alison, I would do all of that and more.”

“Great. Thanks.” She said sarcastically.

“It’s a lot of effort, in my opinion. Just say a cheeky war-related pick up line or something and then get fucking. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Julian!” Alison exclaimed, at the same time as Lady Button stood to leave.

“Disgusting! Disgraceful!”

“Oh, Lady B… Times have changed-”

“No, not them ! Julian! Oh, I dread to think…” She continued, walking out. Julian mimed a square at her departing back.

“Well, I think it’s all rather romantic! Me and Carol never did anything like this for each other!” A moment of silence, and then Pat’s awkward laugh. “Anyway! It is his first birthday here, to be fair to the Cap. We do want to make him feel welcomed, and all that.”

“You’re sure this isn’t… Overdoing it? A bit?”

“But they’re in love!” Squealed Kitty. “Oh, how exciting! A real life romance! Happening here! At Button House!”

“Keep your voice down! I’m not sure either of them are aware how they feel about each other.”

“Ha!” Robin input. “Can see it from mile away. Both know in love, but not other in love. It happen all time.”

“Yeah, you’ve been here longest. How do these things normally resolve themselves? Is there anything we can do?”

“Tipping point. Need, uh,” He mimed a shove. “Yeah? But we no push. We push something that push them.”

“What, like… We need to facilitate an awakening?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Fa-cil-i-tate. Yeah. Or nothing ever happen.”

“God. How do we do that ?”

Robin shrugged.

“I would suggest we start with the birthday party.” Pat replied.

“Ugh. Alright. I guess I’ll do it all anyway.”

----------------------------------------------------- 

At first, everything seemed normal. Havers awoke to Lady Button’s scream in the morning, and then leant out of his window to watch the Captain run past on his daily loop round the house. It hadn’t even really occurred to Havers that it was his birthday. He knew, of course. Alison kept a calendar up on the wall next to Mike’s ghost board so the ghosts knew what was happening around the house without Alison having to tell them every time. He had watched the days be crossed off one by one, Alison's red marker getting closer and closer to his empty square. But he knew it would be different. Painful. Just because he was back didn't mean he was back , so he had pushed it away to a dark corner of his mind. He didn't want to be too disappointed on the day, and anyway, he and the Captain hadn't celebrated his birthday in a lifetime. He'd be surprised if he even remembered. So, he was planning on just keeping quiet about it, and going about his day as usual. That plan was, of course, very quickly foiled by the balloon outside his door. And the one a couple metres down the corridor. And all of the rest of them, each one a few paces apart, leading all the way down to the main room. Havers followed them slowly, savouring the moment. Basking in the knowledge that the Captain had remembered, and cared enough to get Alison to do all this for him. The morning sunlight streamed golden through open windows, and Havers felt inexplicably warm.

The main room was empty when Havers arrived. Balloons sat in bunches at regular intervals around the edge of the room, between windows and next to doorways, carefully arranged. On the far wall, a banner that read Happy Birthday, Havers! in rushed writing hung slightly lopsided. It was more than he ever got in life.

"Happy birthday, Lieutenant." The Captain said from the doorway Havers had just walked through.

"Captain." Havers smiled, turning to face him, that warm fuzzy feeling spreading through his entire body. "Thank you so m-" 

"Happy birthday!!!!!!" Kitty squealed, pushing past the Captain to give Havers a tight hug. 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Robin pushed past afterwards, followed by Julian, who was stubbornly pretending he wasn't enjoying himself, and then Mary carrying Humphrey's head, who both gave their own, much calmer, happy birthdays to Havers. Then Alison and Mike, closely followed by Thomas, who was in the process of trying to convince Alison that Mike didn't really need to be there, as he couldn't really actually see Havers, could he? but Alison was ignoring him in favour of pointing in Havers' general direction so Mike could wish him a happy birthday too. The last in was Lady Button, ushered in by Pat, who essentially dragged her over to Havers before chipping into the conversation with his own, happy birthday, mate! 

The Captain stood back and watched Havers interact with them all. He looked so much like he belonged, it was like they were alive again, watching him laugh and joke with the other men effortlessly. Liked everywhere and by everyone, always, and yet somehow, of all the people he could have liked the most in return, Havers had chosen to spend the majority of his free time in the Captain's company. It made the stress of his job worth it. He was perfectly content to watch from afar, as he always used to do, but just as Havers used to do, he noticed the Captain wasn’t with him, and beckoned him over.

“Happy birthday, Havers.” He said again, a softness emanating from him as he placed a gentle hand on Havers’ arm. Pat pulled some of the more oblivious ghosts away slightly after noticing, so Havers had space to turn and face the Captain fully.

“Thank you, Captain. In all honesty I didn’t think you’d remember.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Not remember my Lieutenant’s birthday? Nonsense.” The Captain smiled, hoping the use of my was appropriate, but Havers only smiled back fondly.

“Thank you again, Sir. I really appreciate it. I think this is the most anyone has ever done for me.”

“Oh, really? W-ell, you’re very welcome, Havers. I would-”

“Happy birthday to you~” Alison began singing, re-entering the room holding a single candle. The ghosts quickly caught on, gathering around her as she walked over to where Havers and the Captain were stood, joining in with her singing. The Captain tried to join in the singing, looking at Havers as he did so, but Havers was looking back with so much love in his eyes the Captain almost took a step back. So instead he turned to watch Alison as he sang, pretending to be keenly interested in the candle’s progress across the room. By the time the song was done, everyone was gathered around Havers.

“I know you can’t actually blow the candle out.” Alison said, holding it out to Havers. “But I figured you could close your eyes and make a wish while I blow it out for you? It was the best I could do.” Havers beamed at her, nodding.

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

So Alison counted him down, and he closed his eyes and wished for the same thing he had wished for every birthday he had spent with the Captain.

“What did you wish for?” Kitty asked excitedly one he had reopened his eyes.

“I can’t tell you, or else it won’t come true, will it?” He replied, leaving out the part where he believed it would never come true no matter what he did.

“Oh, then don’t tell me, don’t tell me!” Kitty shouted, sounding genuinely panicked.

“Now, Havers, there is going to be more of an actual party later, but the Captain said you’d probably want to go down to the lake…? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, and me and Mike might not actually go in, because, well, yknow, we can feel the cold, but…” Havers looked at the Captain, wide-eyed.

“I. I thought you might like a birthday swim, Lieutenant.”

“We can actually go in the lake?”

“Yes. Sorry, I thought I’d told-”

“I would love a birthday swim!”

The Captain beamed at him in reply, and then remembered the other ghosts could see him and quickly dropped his smile in favour of a nod.

“To the lake it is, then.” 

The lake was not as cold as Alison thought it would be. She and Mike were stood in the shallows, trousers rolled up, holding hands as Alison gave Mike a running commentary on what the ghosts were up to. Lady Button was stood on the shore, refusing to get involved in ‘frivolous antics’. Pat was in the process of trying, and mostly failing, to give Mary and Kitty swimming lessons. Robin was challenging various fish to races across the lake and consistently winning, while Thomas and Julian played a weird cross between water polo and volleyball with Humphrey’s head. The Captain and Havers, of course, were in a world of their own. 

They set off together, moving quickly through the water away from everyone else. It wasn’t fully intentional, but something pulled them both to the opposite end of the lake. It was a beach Havers visited often when he was alive, although the Captain had never found time to swim over to it. Havers pushed himself up to his usual spot on top of the boulder. For a moment, he lost himself to the memories, before realising the Captain was still stood looking a little lost at the foot of it.

“Oh, sorry Sir. Would you like a hand up?”

“No, that’s quite alright, Havers. I can get up myself.” He said, trying to pull himself up to where Havers was sat. He fell back down again, and coughed awkwardly, as if to imply that hadn’t been a real attempt. Havers smiled.

“There’s no one here to put a facade on for, Captain.”

“I- What?”

“Apologies if I’m speaking out of turn-”

“There’s no need for that anymore, Havers. I’m not really your superior now.”

Havers smiled. “No. But you’ll always be my Captain.” The Captain coughed again, shifting where he stood in an attempt to dispel the butterflies spawning rapidly in his stomach. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to need a hand up onto a boulder.” He said, holding out his hand. The Captain nodded and took it without making eye contact, allowing Havers to help him up, trying not to think about Havers’ hands on his arms, or how strong he must be to pull him like that.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He said, matching Havers position, sat with his legs out, putting his weight on his hands. But as he went to place his hands behind him to lean on them, he put his right one slightly too close to Havers’ left one. Their pinkies were touching. Neither one of them moved, or spoke, or even breathed, each acutely aware of the feeling of their fingers touching. The Captain watched Havers out of the corner of his eye, desperately trying to read the emotion on his face. Havers’ eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and his eyes closed. The silence that stretched between them seemed to last an eternity. Eventually, the Captain spoke. 

"So, er. Are you enjoying your birthday, Havers?" The Captain did not move his pinky.

"Yes, yes very much so." Havers did not move his. "It's truly wonderful. I could not have asked for a better one."

"Well I am very glad to hear it. I figured you would want a proper celebration. What with it being your first proper birthday after you died, and all."

"Yes. Thank you for telling Alison. I was just going to let it pass."

"Why?" 

"I didn't want to cause a fuss. It's only my birthday." 

"Your birthday is important."

"Not particularly."

"...The war is not on anymore, Havers. We're dead. There is no grand scheme of things now."

"But all the same." 

"It is important to me." The Captain held his breath. Havers hesitated, before chancing a look at the Captain to smile. 

"Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant." 

-------------------------------------------

It was late in the evening now. The ghosts had wandered back from the lake under the sunset, and once inside after Alison had dried herself off the proper party had started. The main room was cast in purples and pinks and blues as LEDs and coloured lights hung from every spare bit of wall. Alison was sat with Mike in one corner behind the speakers, taking requests from the ghosts and letting them all dance. It wasn't often they got to do this. Even Lady Button had let it happen, only complaining once or twice before giving up and retiring early to her room. Havers was in the middle of it all, doing his best to dance with whoever asked, despite only really knowing the dances from his time. Kitty had, after completely tiring him out with her own dances, asked him to teach her one of his, and so he had spun her round the room, trying not to search for the Captain every time they changed their direction. The Captain was leant against the far wall, watching Havers interact with everyone as before. There was something heavy in his stomach as he watched Havers dance with everyone, a strange envy he hadn't felt before. He could not join in, but still it hurt. He was almost tempted to sink into the wall, and then even more so when he saw Havers walk over to Alison. He had spent the whole day silently begging Alison not to tell Havers it was him that had planned all of this. Havers hadn't realised, and for some reason this made the Captain apprehensive for him to find out.

"Hello, Alison." Havers said, taking a seat next to her.

"Hey, Havers. Enjoying your party?"

"Oh, very much so. I just wanted to thank you for putting this all together. It's quite the achievement, planning everything like this. You've made what one would imagine to be quite a melancholy affair into something magnificent."

"Oh, well, I only really did the physical stuff. You've got Cap to thank for all the ideas."

"The Captain?"

"Yeah, he held a meeting with everyone in secret and laid out all the stuff he wanted to happen today. It was quite sweet, really."

"He organised all of this?"

"Yeah." Alison smiled, watching Havers' eyes slide over to the Captain, looking slightly starstruck.

"Thank you for telling me." Havers rushed, before pushing himself out of his chair and practically running over to where the Captain was stood.

"Captain." He smiled, leaning next to him.

"Havers." The Captain replied.

"I- I've just been informed that you planned all of this."

"Er. Yes, that- that was me, yes."

"Oh, thank you, I thought -- I thought this was standard. I knew you suggested the lake, but…"

"No, most people here have somewhat given up on their birthdays. It gets rather depressing after a while. But I wanted you to have a good one. So." 

"Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much." Havers placed a hand on the Captain's arm. "Seriously, Captain. Thank you. I can't really express what I want to but, well. You sure do make being dead a lot easier, Sir." 

The Captain smiled widely at Havers despite himself.

"As do you, Havers. As do you."

Chapter Text

Havers avoided the Captain’s office all morning, saving up little odds and ends he had to report to him as an excuse to spend longer in his office than he needed to, sending someone ahead to ask the Captain if he wanted a cup of tea, and then pacing in the kitchen until said someone returned with the Captain’s yes. He was building up to it. It was an odd request, one that the Captain could easily refuse and even possibly laugh at, but Havers wanted to try anyway. He made the tea with shaking hands, thanking muscle memory he could make it the way the Captain liked it on autopilot. 

"Come!" The Captain called. Havers entered the room, savouring the smile the Captain gave him as he realised who was entering. 

"Captain." 

"At ease, Lieutenant. Thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome, Sir. I have a few things to report, and then." Havers stopped, sitting down in his chair. "A… Slightly odd request."

"Oh?"

"Well. There's a… A meteor shower. Happening tonight. And I was wondering if I could get the evening off to watch it? As the sky is supposed to be clear tonight."

“A meteor shower?”

“Yes. I haven’t seen one since the war started. I used to stargaze a lot when I was a kid. I miss it. As I miss swimming. Sorry.”

“No, you’ve nothing to apologise for. You may have the evening off. When does it start?”

“I suppose I will be heading out at around 1900 hours. Would you…”

“...Havers?”

“No, nevermind. It was a silly question, Sir.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Only that… Well, if you would like a break from work, Sir, or- ..don’t have anything to do tonight then… That is, if you wanted to, I mean, you could join me?”

“...Stargaze with you?”

“Yes. If you wanted.”

“I -- would like that. Yes.”

“Oh, good. Excellent, yes. I suppose I shall meet you here. At 7. And then take you to the clearing. I know how you lose track of time, Sir.” He joked, laughing nervously, trying not to think about how much it sounded like a date.

“Yes. Alright. Yes. See you at 7.”

------------------------------------------

By the time 7 rolled around, Havers was so worked up about taking the Captain stargazing he almost forgot to actually take him. When the clock struck 1900 he almost chickened out, walking towards the front door but not making it outside before he convinced himself to turn around and head up the stairs to the Captain’s office. He only had to knock once before the Captain shouted a hasty ‘Enter!’ through the door, and if Havers hadn’t been desperately trying to block out his thoughts, he might have said the Captain sounded almost eager.

“Captain! It’s 7.” Havers said unnecessarily.

“So it is!” The Captain replied as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Shall we?” Havers asked, going to hold out his arm before remembering it was not an actual date, and that wasn’t something Lieutenants did for their Captains, and so changed the movement into a vague gesture out of the Captain’s door.

“Yes.” The Captain nodded. “Where are we watching from? We wouldn’t want any light pollution from the house.” He asked as they made their way outside.

“Yes, you’re right. I’ve been looking for a suitable clearing in my free time, and I think I’ve found one. I’m not sure how it is at night, but I’m hoping it’s good enough.”

“I’m sure it is. Lead on.”

The forest was dark and cold, but in a peaceful way. The birds were asleep, and there was no breeze to rustle any leaves left on the trees. The walk was quiet but for the sound of their breathing. Neither of them spoke, or dared to look at each other. The sky was clear and the moon was full, casting a pale light over everything, so they found their way easily enough. In the clearing, the grass was damp and dewy, spread out beneath the sky like a carpet. They walked into the very centre of it before stopping, and Havers went to lie down before remembering the Captain was at his side.

“I, er. Normally lie down to watch these. It doesn’t crane the neck as much. You’re free to remain standing though, if you wish.”

“No, no. You’re the expert. I’ll lie with you.” The Captain replied, thankful that the limited light masked his blush. Havers nodded, and sat down before laying back, placing his folded hands on his stomach. The Captain followed suit. There was nothing but the stars for a moment, before the first meteor made its way across the sky.

“There!” Havers pointed, following its path with his finger. “Bottom right, heading to 8 o’clock. Ah, it’s gone.”

“Damn. I missed it.”

“That’s alright, there should be another one soon.” Havers said, shuffling his head closer to the Captain’s so his pointing was more accurate. “Oh, there! Dead centre, travelling to 9.”

“Oh, I see it! Oh, how wonderful! How many are expected to go past?”

“Well there should be one every five minutes or so.” Havers said, turning to face the Captain only to find him already looking at him. Their faces were very close. Close enough that they wouldn’t have to move very far to… Havers found his eyes darting down to the Captain’s lips and then quickly up to his eyes, before he turned his head back towards the night sky, hoping the dark had made his slip up impossible to see. Hoping the Captain somehow hadn’t noticed. Hoping he wouldn’t comment if he did. He had never done that before. That he could remember, at least, never let his desires take such control of him like that. One tiny mistake could cost him his everything. He tried not to panic, screwing his eyes shut as the Captain took a breath to speak.

“Look, there’s one! Middle left, heading to 6.” He pointed. Havers opened his eyes.

“Oh yeah! Good spot, Captain.”

“I must say I am rather enjoying this.”

“You sound surprised.” Havers smiled.

“Well, I am a little bit. I wasn’t sure it would be so exhilarating. Stargazing.”

“I’m glad I could convince you. ...Why join me if you weren’t sure you’d like it?”

“You’re an intelligent man, Havers. I figured you knew what you were on about and I could learn a thing or two. And anyway, I didn’t think I’d like swimming, but I thoroughly enjoyed that. I think you rather know what’s best for me better than I do.”

Havers laughed. “Perhaps, Sir. Although I do think everyone should try stargazing at least once. Even if there’s not a meteor shower.”

“What, just looking at the stars?”

“Yes.”

“But why? What can be gained?”

“Oh, well, nothing really. Before we properly knew how to navigate, people used to use the stars. And people believe all sorts about what different planet alignments mean. And there’s of course all the myths and legends attached to the constellations, but I just think they’re wonderful to look at. The great expanse of it all. How small we are. How insignificant.”

“Mmm. But the stars look small from far away. And yet you seem to think they are of great importance.”

Havers chuckled. “Yes. Yes, I suppose so. But still, doesn’t it just make you feel…” He gestured widely at the sky.

“Yes. It does. Thank you for showing me this. You’re a man full of surprises, Lieutenant.”

“You’re very welcome, Sir. Any time. I’ll let you know next time there’s a meteor shower and a clear sky and we can come out again.”

“That sounds wonderful. Even if I didn’t learn anything.”

“Oh, well there’s still time for that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes! You see that long patch of slightly brighter sky that stretches across the middle there?” Havers asked, shuffling their heads even closer and pointing upwards.

“Yes.”

“That is called the milky way. It's our galaxy. Our collection of stars and suns and solar systems and planets and moons and everything else floating in space we’re yet to discover. The whole universe is made up of lots and lots of galaxies like ours, clumps of stars all sticking together across the whole of everything. And our galaxy is… Slightly flat. So when viewed from inside it, it looks like a line. Of course, all the billions and billions of stars cannot be seen with the naked eye. But all that light that they emit can. It lights up a long patch of sky just ever so slightly. That’s what we’re looking at.”

“Incredible!”

“Isn’t it!”

“Thank you, Havers, that’s… That’s incredible.”

“You’re welcome.” Havers smiled fondly at the Captain’s amazement.

“And how long are we staying out here?” The Captain asked.

“As long as you want. I used to stay until I got too cold to keep going. Once I made it all the way to sunrise.” He smiled, eyes lighting up at the memory. The Captain smiled.

“You had quite the childhood, Havers.”

“Yes, I’m very lucky.”

“Mm. I’m lucky too, I suppose.”

“How so?”

“Well, I have you.” Silence. “By which I mean, of course, I have you around to share all this stuff with me! You know, the lake and the stars and such-like.”

“Y-es, yes, I suppose you do.”

“What would I do without you, Havers?” The Captain asked softly.

“Be very bored, I imagine.” Havers grinned.

“Yes.” The Captains chuckled. “Yes I imagine I would.”

Chapter Text

The first snowfall of winter fell thick and fast, and settled overnight. The snow was fine, and stuck to the branches of the trees, painting the tops of everything white. The clouds were still pale with it, that particular grey colour that can only mean more snow is on the way. The ghosts watched eagerly. Being stuck in a house forever didn’t feel so bad when it was snowing, and everyone everywhere else was stuck inside too. It made the claustrophobic nature of their existence somewhat cosy, they could almost feel the warmth from the fire that little bit more. Christmas was also fast approaching, although that wasn’t the only thing the ghosts had to look forward to. At yesterday’s meeting, Alison had announced the wedding that was going to be taking place in late december at Button House, much to Kitty’s delight. Alison was spending most of her free time in different rooms, trying to plan the wedding, and the Captain was spending every minute trying his hardest not to get involved. He had an image to uphold, and, as a result, had been taking more and more walks through the grounds in the snow where Alison could not question him about his opinions on all the absurd things she wanted to do for the wedding. And Havers, ever eager to find excuses to spend time with him, had been accompanying him. 

The air between them was different on these walks. Something about the snow, maybe, or how the cold bit blushes into their cheeks. They had revisited the clearing where they first stargazed on one of them, standing silently for a few moments before Havers had half laughed to himself, and lay down in the snow.

“Havers?” The Captain asked, watching him fondly.

“I just realised I haven’t stargazed for over 75 years.” The Captain looked up at the grey, midday sky.

“There aren’t any stars out.”

“I know.” Havers said sadly. “But just lying here is nice. Care to join me?”

The Captain would very much care to. He could think of nothing more he wanted in that moment than to lie next to Havers in the snow. But alas. That unjumpable hurdle. The unending wall between them: his Captainship.

“I… I’m afraid I can’t. It would feel improper.”

“I understand. We will just have to wait till a night when the sky is clear, and come out then.” Havers concluded, getting back to his feet. “Shall we get back to our walk?”

--------------------------------------------------

Kitty had made multiple comments to the ghosts, always when the Captain or Havers were in the room, about how romantic a walk in the snow must be. Alison suspected she wasn’t quite doing it on purpose, and that Julian or Thomas was pulling her strings slightly. Neither the Captain or Havers had ever responded to said comments, instead often finding excuses to leave the room. Their walks would happen often, sometimes every day for a few days, and always whenever a new snowfall settled atop the old one. They would find each other ‘coincidentally’, and then head out into the paradise that the grounds turned into whenever winter came around. Their path was almost always the same. Through the gardens out of the back door, the rose bushes Havers used to tend to budless and snow-covered, planter boxes and neat hedges cutting squares into the expanse of white that covered everything, leading them gently to the sheet that was the lawn, and beyond that to the beginnings of the forest, the odd tree flung out towards the house before they truly began to thicken. Their branches spread out above them, reaching for some unseen treasure in the sky, creating a cover overhead, but not enough to fully shelter the ground from the snow, so smatterings get through, knee deep in the places where the trees thin momentarily and only ankle deep everywhere else, coating the undergrowth so any green that survives the harsh cold of december disappears under layers on layers of snowflakes, all undisturbed but for the odd animal track here and there. Sometimes the two of them found themselves straying from the path between the trees arching overhead, delving into the depths of the forest, the difficulty of the terrain not stopping them as they passed straight through nettle patches and bushes and clusters of trees one would normally go around. More than once they came out upon the lake, the top of the water frozen over just enough to hold the weight of them and the ducks, barely frozen enough to be white, instead a flimsy translucent half-reflective film that stretched its way round the edges of the water. The first time they stumbled upon that sight, all greys and browns instead of the lake’s usual blues and greens and sunset pinks, Havers had gone to walk across the ice, wanting to see how far out he could get, and whether the ducks could see the ghosts as the magpies sometimes could. He only took a couple purposeful steps before slipping and falling backwards, joining the Captain in his sudden laughter as the two of them came to the realisation that ghosts can still actually slip on ice.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Havers asked between laughter, pushing himself back to his feet with a lot more care than before.

“I didn’t know myself!”

“But you’ve been here 75 years!”

“Yes, well, I was never so foolish as to try walking like that across ice.”

Havers laughed again, loudly, the cold making him jolly, throwing his head back as he did so. It was a prettier sight than anything the Captain had seen on their walks together, and as he observed in as much detail as he could, hoping he could remember every second of it, he made a vow to try his very best to make that happen again as soon as he could.

Every so often, on their adventures through the forest, they would come to the edge of Button House land, going to jump a fence only to land on the original side of it, back next to whoever was going to jump second. There were plenty of fences that were not the edge of their land, so sometimes the two of them would place bets on which ones would be the end and which would just be some random fence or old fallen down wall, of which there were a multitude of. Neither of them could figure out what they were there for, what the forest had used to be that required the construction of so many walls, whether there had been a village or a farm there once, now long forgotten. Often they would come to a fence that looked relatively new, and past it would simply stretch fields, or the beginning of houses, or someone’s back garden with a dog house or a discarded paddling pool or a trampoline, and they would stop and stay there for a moment, at the edge of it all, watching whatever lay beyond exist without them ever being able to touch it.

The three deers making their way across the field that had stopped to stare at them as they passed, frozen. ‘Deers!’ The Captain had said unnecessarily, whisper-shouting despite knowing that the only person that could hear him was Havers. But Havers had gasped in reply anyway, and they had stood there for what felt like an hour, watching the deers watch them, before the oldest of them turned its head away and began to bounce once again across the field, the other two in tow, before leaping over a wall to the left that the Captain and Havers could not reach, yet alone follow them over.

The new builds still half in the process of being built, a single family moving in at the worst time, the father making jokes about having to cook Christmas dinner in the microwave to his wife as they carried their sofa through the door, their young daughter following, half dazed from the journey and almost as tired as her parents from the moving process, always carrying a stuffed bunny with a green ribbon in one hand, and whatever small, unimportant item she was helping move into the house in the other; a lava lamp, a single trainer, a water bottle, a misshaped cushion she had clearly made herself. The stray cat the painter finishing up on the last house had accidentally befriended, the way they had heard him tell it both times they had stumbled upon this particular edge of the land that he really should leave it behind, that his Kenneth didn’t want a second cat, but also how he always somehow ended up convincing himself he would bring his fiance round, and pick it up next time, and give it a better name than Duck Egg Grey after the colour of the not-yet-dry wall it had brushed up against when he first found it. How it sometimes sat and meowed at where the Captain and Havers were stood, and the painter would joke to it about it’s ‘ghost friends’ , and both of them would laugh along with the painter after he made it, but for different reasons, and always slightly more melancholically than the painter was laughing.

The back gardens were always the worst for the sinking feeling of loss. One couple putting up Christmas decorations, shouting up and down to one another, screaming that turned into laughter when one shook the ladder the other was stood on as they struggled to put up some LEDs. Then, laughing again as they moved into the conservatory to put up their tree, lightly throwing baubles that were way too plastic to break at each other, and then stopping, silent, hands flown over mouths as an old glass one hit the floor and shattered, the shock only lasting as long as they weren’t making eye contact before they both dissolved into fits of giggles again, young and in love and so very alive, so very lucky and so very alive - it made the Captain and Havers ache with longing. The kids party, screaming so loudly and obnoxiously that the Captain had been about to make a snarky comment about how he wouldn’t have stood for it in his day until someone’s parent brought out a cake and everyone began to sing and they realised it was a birthday party and quickly went quiet and simply watched the birthday boy be congratulated on turning 8 - ‘such a big boy now!’ - and rip through wrapping paper excitedly, all too eager to try out his new remote control helicopter and lego set and model fire station and scooter with light up wheels all at once. The chaos that ensued once the children realised they could pop the tens and tens of balloons their parents had probably spent hours blowing up, screaming laughter and joy so sharp it hurt, the adults fond smiles and shakes of heads, all the things the Captain and Havers never even got a chance to choose not to be angry about. The two teenage girls laying down on a trampoline, shoes discarded in a pile by the ladder, fingers intertwined as they both watched the sky for snow. The speaker between them playing songs about a cottage by the lakeside and a garden by the wayside and fairies and flowers that bloom overnight, and they pulled away suddenly as one of their mothers came out and asked when the other one is being picked up. The way they laughed as they reconnected their hands once she was gone, making jokes about being ‘really close friends’ , ‘yeah, just,,, really, really, really close friends’ before dissolving into laughter again as one kissed the other on the cheek.

“To be young and in love again.” Havers had murmured quietly.

“Yes.” The Captain had agreed, leaving the ‘better than dead and in love’ unsaid. 

They spent longer and longer out on these walks together, often spending the whole day out below the trees, leaving as the sun rose and coming back as it set, following every path they could find until they exhausted them, then every fence, every wall, then more nonsensical directions like always trying to walk uphill until they got to the highest point in the grounds, or following dried lines that used to be streams away from the lake. They never tired of it, that great expanse of wonderland, new sights to be found round every corner, behind every tree. It was a constant well of beauty, and adventure, and, of course, love.

Between all these walks, the Captain was slowly but surely getting more and more invested in the wedding planning process. He couldn’t really help it, and had only meant to give Alison one small comment about a little thing she had asked him about, but now he couldn’t stop himself from getting drawn in, giving her much more instruction than she really needed about whatever she was working on whenever he passed or she asked when she eventually started just turning to him when things weren’t quite going right. He always had a solution, and Havers found it impossible not to watch. All the things Havers had spurted at him when they were discussing something he was interested in, the lake, space and the stars, and it turned out the Captain had something he was just as passionate about. Havers spent most of the time the Captain was helping Alison figuring out a way to get him to talk about it to him.

"No, Alison." Havers overhead the Captain say one morning. "You simply cannot have just one type of fairy light, it makes the lighting too samey. You need multiple, preferably two. I would recommend- no, scroll back up, stop, there! Those ones. As well as the ones you wanted." Havers made his way quietly through the wall. The Captain was stood, leaning over Alison's shoulder, pointing to her laptop screen. 

"They're pretty big though, Captain. Are you sure they won't-"

"They're going in a pretty big room, Alison. Your ones are about this big." He held up his fingers to demonstrate. "In this room? Far too small. You'll need bigger ones to balance it out."

Alison looked up, around the room.  "Okay, yeah, you're right. Are we still getting the little ones?"

"Yes, but not for the overhead lighting. They're fine for the walls or running up any poles etcetera."

"Big ones go overhead?"

"Yes. If you hang them from- Havers." The Captain said, finally noticing him stood against the far wall.

"Hello, Captain, Alison." He nodded. 

"Havers! Welcome, we're just talking about the lights for the main room. For the wedding." Alison smiled, waving him over.

"Yes, I heard. I didn't know you were so good at this, Captain."

"I, er, yes. Well. Yes."

"It's nice to hear you talk like that again, Sir. Commanding."

"Oh, th-thank you, Havers. It's nice to -- command again. I suppose."

Havers nodded, walking over to look at the lights the Captain had selected, before looking around the room.

"They're pretty." He commented. 

"Yes." The Captain replied, unsure about how to proceed. 

"Okay," Alison said, clicking onto another tab, "What about coloured lights, Captain? For the dancing dancing, not the wedding dancing."

"Red and blue." He said, forgetting to be awkward about it. "But with an emphasis on red, it makes the room warm. Green will look wrong with the white of the wedding. Red, purple and blue are your best bet, although if you can find one with pink in as well that would be good."

Alison nodded, scrolling down. "These?"

"...They change colour too fast. Do they have speed settings?"

"Uhh,,,, no."

"Different ones then."

"These change colour slower." 

"Hmm. Yes, these will be good. No, not just one, are you mad? You'll need three, two for either side of the DJ and one for that corner over there." He pointed. "The fourth corner has a door. It creates a frame for the dance floor." 

"Okay, okay, three it is then. Right, big jump to the garden. Lets head to a room where we can actually see it, I'm not going all the way outside." She stood. "Are you coming, Havers?" Havers nodded eagerly. "Let's go." 

“Okay.” Alison settled onto a windowsill, clicking onto yet another tab. “Marquees. They want a white one, obviously, and the size needs to fit in our garden, so. I was thinking…” She trailed off as she scrolled. “This one.”

“Alison.”

“Yeah?”

“That is absolutely hideous.”

“What!? How? Is it? I thought the little details around the edges were nice.”

“They’re not.”

“No! Havers, you agree with me, right?”

Havers leant in. “Er. Well. I- I’m sure someone might like them, just maybe not-”

“You hate them.”

“Yes, they’re atrocious. Apologies.”

“No, that’s fine.” She sighed. “What kinda thing will they want then?” She turned back to the Captain.

“The bride is going to be wearing a suit, is she not?”

“...Yeah?”

“So they will not want a marquee with flowers embroidered into it. Maybe if you were marrying people Lady Heather’s age, but you are not. They’ll want something modern. Remove ‘traditional’ from your search, that’ll be cancelling all the good results.”

“But they wanted a big old timey house. I thought they were after a traditional kinda… Nah, yeah, you’re right. What should I put instead?”

“Try ‘vintage’, see if that gives you more of what they’re after.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah that’s a lot better. Okay. This one?”

“Too small for the garden.”

“How can it be too small for the garden?”

“The house will swamp that. You’ll need one that takes up most of the space, width-wise at least. It’s fine if there’s room at the back.”

“Ookaayyy…”

“There.” Havers pointed. “What about that one? With the wispy curtain things.”

“Oh, that one’s beautiful. Captain?”

“It won’t hold up in winter, I’m afraid. It would have been lovely for a summer wedding though.” He looked almost wistful.

“W-well I’ll order it anyway. Keep it in case we have a summer wedding, or something. And if not then… I dunno. We’ll find a use for it.”

Havers nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright! It’s snowing again, which means I’m done for the day.”

“It’s only 1300 hours.”

“Yeahhh,,, oh well. I’m done. I’m tired and I want a hot chocolate.” Alison stood, shutting her laptop and stretching her back. “And I’m assuming you two’ll want a walk.”

“Oh, well-”

“I mean if you-”

“...Shall we?”

“We shall.”

Chapter Text

Three letters had come in the post that morning, all from HQ. Addressed directly to the Captain, Havers had waited until just before lunch to give them to him, so they would not have to cut whatever conversation they started short and could instead continue it for an extra hour. Havers liked walking down to the mess hall with the Captain; there was something almost domestic in the way they descended the steps in sync and entered the room without stopping their conversation, and although he knew he was the only one putting that meaning in their actions, it was a small ritual he observed whenever he could. Havers had knocked gently, entered when the Captain had replied, and watched his eyebrows raise instead of dip as he read them.

“Good news, Sir?” Havers asked, taking a seat on the other side of the Captain’s desk. It was typically something only he did. The Captain did not like distractions in his office when he was working, unless said distractions came in the form of a certain Lieutenant.

“Yes. Three promotions!”

“Oh, jolly good news then! For who?”

“Three of the Privates. I will announce it at lunch.”

“Very good, Sir.”

“Yes.” The Captain replied, not sure where to take the conversation, but not willing to dismiss Havers either. The cold morning sunlight hit Havers just right when he sat there, and a conversation was a very good excuse to stare at him. “H-ow are you, Lieutenant?” He asked, stopping the silence before it could expand any further. Havers smiled, and leant forward in his chair.

“Oh, very good, Sir. The drills this morning were…” And then there they stayed for the better part of an hour. By the time someone came to inform the Captain that lunch had started, they both had their elbows on the desk, leaning in to listen to the other ramble about something and then forgetting to lean out again when it was their turn to speak. They both leant back abruptly as someone shouted,

“Lunch, Captain!” Through the door after a loud knock, and didn’t speak until said someone’s footsteps had retreated back down the corridor.

“Right! To the dining hall, I suppose.” The Captain said, standing up and brushing himself down although there was nothing clinging to his clothes.

“Yes. About time too, I am starving.” Havers matched his actions, and went to hold open the door.

“Thank you. Yes, I suppose you must be. Those exercises are rather draining, aren’t they?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“Very good for the core though, apparently. And the core is vital!” Their steps synced up. “For more than just your body, it’s important for an attack too.” Down the stairs together. “Here’s an interesting hypothetical:” Havers thought briefly about how little he had cared about battle tactics before he had met the Captain as they pushed open each of the double doors and entered the room, taking their usual place in the corner without the Captain breaking off his solution to a problem Havers had not even considered before. Lunch went by quicker than it usually did, with the Captain explaining in immense detail the latest idea on tanks and Havers watching adoringly - the Captain was hard not to love when he spoke like this - in between remembering he was not allowed to gaze so openly. The two of them were so caught up in their conversation that the Captain almost forgot to make the announcement, but Webb brought up the letters he held in his hand at the last minute, and so the Captain paused everyone’s exodus from the room and stood with surprising ease on his chair so his voice better carried over everyone’s heads.

“I’m happy to announce we received three letters from HQ today, all of which containing information on promotions certain Privates in this room are due. So, congratulations are in order. Private Blackman, Private McKay and Private Burnside, you may have the rest of the day off in order to adjust your uniform to represent your new titles of Lance Corporal.”

A cheer went up. The Privates-turned-Lance-Corporals were slapped on the back by those sat beside them, and just as the chatter was beginning to restart, Miller jumped up to shout across at the Captain,

“I think this calls for a celebration, Sir!” Another cheer, louder than the last. They hadn’t had a free drink since summer, and were getting fed up with spending all their earnings in the pub in the village.

“I don’t think-” The Captain began, but McKay interrupted with,

“Please, Sir. Three promotions in one day!”

The Captain sighed, and was about to dismiss them from lunch without a yes when he heard Havers’ quiet voice from below.

“I don’t think they’re being unreasonable, Sir. Wouldn’t you like an evening off, as well? You can continue your explanation of the inner workings of tanks to me.” He gave a small smile. The Captain drew in a breath to say no, but he couldn’t deny Havers when he wore that hopeful look on his face, and couldn’t tear his eyes away either.

“Fine.” He announced. “You do not get this afternoon off, but once your duties are done, I will permit some drinking.” Another cheer. There was a shout of thanks, Captain! and a joking reply of thank Havers! followed by a ripple of laughter which made the both of them flush slightly, undetectable to anyone but them, as the Captain sat back down. Once more the men began to file out, their spirits much higher than the first time. Miller caught Havers just as he was leaving.

“Thank you, Havers!” He grinned.

“Private Miller.” Havers greeted him, smiling a small smile that told Miller exactly what he already knew: Havers had done that just to see the Captain drunk again.

“Looking forward to this evening?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up.”

“Not even going to thank me? I did that for you!”

“You WHAT?” Havers shouted, drawing attention from those still lingering in the corridor, and the Captain as he walked back to his office. He gave Havers a puzzled look, but Havers simply replied with a smile and a wave, as if to inform him it was nothing of any importance. That could not have been less true. He breathed a sigh of relief as the Captain shrugged and continued on his way. “You what?” He repeated.

“I did that for you! I know the last time you got drunk together was… It got a little flirty.”

“No, stop.”

“So! I thought you’d want that again. It’s been so long of the two of you just pining, I needed some plot. Some meat on these romance bones.”

“You really word things quite horribly for a poet.”

Miller grinned. Havers sighed.

“...Thank you.”

“You're welcome! You could return the favour, if you so wished…” Havers sighed again, heavier this time.

“What do you want?”

“Let me sneak out while everyone else gets drunk. I want to visit my girl.”

“You have a partner?”

“In the village. We have to meet in secret so her husband doesn’t find out, but she does love me. I’m teaching her how to write poetry.”

“She has a husband?” Havers asked in a low whisper, leaning in with concern.

“He won’t find out! Don’t worry! But I miss her. I have lots of poems to read her. Please?”

“Oh, fine. I will try to cover for you. What excuse? Are you ill?”

“Only use that as a last resort, but yes. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you. ”

“You are very welcome! Very welcome indeed.” Miller threw Havers a grin, and then walked off, humming some unfamiliar tune to himself as he went. Havers sighed, and began to go about his day, knowing the evening was going to take as long as it possibly could to roll around.

He was right. He was practically dying of boredom by the time the clock finally announced the time he was waiting for. He stretched, pushing his arms above his head, and made his way slowly to the main room, not wanting to be the first there. Luckily, almost every other man situated at Button House had been counting down the seconds too, so a good crowd were already there, and a few already drinking. The only two missing, of course, were Miller and the Captain. Miller had presumably already run off to the village to find his girl, and the Captain was most likely still in his office, not having yet noticed the time. Havers sat on a spare seat, grabbed a beer from the table, and resolved not to go find the Captain until he had finished it. He did not want to disturb the Captain. Did not want him thinking he had already missed him. He could not think of much he wanted more in that moment than to be tipsy in his chair across from the Captain, but he stopped himself. He had gotten very good at doing that. He joined in with conversation idly, pretending to have an interest in someone from the village when one of the new Lance Corporals brought her up. No one commented on how he couldn’t have, because he spent every evening that they spent in the pub talking to the Captain in what the soldiers had come to consider their office. The fact that that was not completely normal behaviour had slipped Havers’ mind. What had not slipped Havers’ mind was the Captain, and each sip felt heavy and thick and like the ticking of a clock. So when the Captain walked into the room, only half an hour late, Havers almost jumped out of his skin.

“Captain!” He exclaimed, shuffling up on the sofa to make room for him on the end.

“Thank you, Havers.” The Captain replied, leaning away slightly as he sat next to him to ensure their shoulders would not brush. If Miller was in the room to observe he would have later told Havers how obvious it was that the Captain had spent said half an hour thinking of him. Havers silently passed him a beer, busy pretending he was invested in whatever the other men were talking about, and gradually, the evening began to slip away. 

----------------------------------------------

“First kiss stories!” Burnside announced, slurring his Ss as he swayed where he stood. They had taken to telling stories like this, first love, first time, first crush, first anything. It was clear they were all missing someone, the only difference being that there were two in the room who were missing each other.

“Havers!” Someone shouted. “You haven’t told a single story! Come on, Mr tall, dark and handsome. I bet the girls in your village loved you.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m not that smooth.” He laughed, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of the Captain’s eyes on his back.

“But you must have kissed someone !”

“There was… Alice.” He smiled, remembering an Andrew he had liked for most of his childhood. The crowd ‘oooo’ed at the faraway look on his face, and in his drunken state he found himself wanting to tell someone about him for the first time in his life. “When I get crushes,” he started, looking into the middle distance to conjure him up in his mind. “I get them very hard, and for a really long time.” He tried not to make eye contact with the Captain. “Chances are, if I like you, I’ll also love you at some point, just because,,well, because! And ssshe was so pretty. Ginger hair, soft and long, and big blue eyes. I liked her for ages before she even knew my name. We were-” He stopped to laugh. “I can’t even remember why! We were in her garden, and she had this big tree, and I dared her to climb it, and then,,,,and then we were racing to the top, and we paused to sit on this branch, and then…” He trailed off, resisting the urge to close his eyes, thinking about being 14, young and hormonal and confused about everything, not even aware how much he liked him until his hands were on his face. Up in the tree, hidden behind layers and layers of leaves in the height of summer after a day of swimming and eye contact Havers could not decipher. Andrew had beckoned him to follow as they left the lake that afternoon, and Havers had done so blindly, full of a fizzy awe that Andrew would want anything to do with him. He was loud and confident and seemed to know so much for someone who was just 15, and all the girls loved him, but he never cared. It was a weird honour Havers carried about with him until things turned sour when the leaves died and their tree was no longer theirs, that of all the girls Andrew could have had, he had chosen to silently love quiet William instead, and that had been enough. His first love. His self discovery. All within the confines of those heavy summer leaves. He remembers the moment to this day. He had called Andrew Andy in casual conversation, they were discussing the world and matters that seemed so far off to them then and it had slipped out of Havers’ mouth before he could stop himself. The idea of calling him that had been floating in the back of his mind for weeks now, but he never once dared. He was so afraid of what his response might be that he stopped as soon as he realised he said it, but Andrew did not respond at all. Only returned the simple favour of the intimacy of nicknames by asking, “Why’dya stop, Will?” and resting his head on Havers’ shoulder. That was when Havers knew. “Always in the summer.” He muttered to himself under his breath, something he knew only the Captain would hear, before pulling his thoughts back into the room to answer all the questions the men were beginning to ask. 

"You sound like you still like her!" Someone remarked.

"Oh, no. She left the next summer. She turned 16 and found some other, better man I imagine.”

“No!” Someone exclaimed. “Better man than Havers? Impossible!” The Captain silently agreed. Havers chuckled.

“Thank you. But I don-”

“Who would you like to tell a story, Havers?”

“Oh, I don’t think-”

“Give us a naaaame!”

Havers scanned the room, trying his best to connect names to faces in his drunken state. There was only one person he really wanted to hear speak, but he couldn’t…

“If you don’t give us one soon, we’ll start chanting.” One of the new Lance Corporals warned jokingly. Havers smiled, before slowly turning to look at the Captain. A few of the slightly more sober men laughed approvingly as they caught on.

“...Captain?” Havers asked gently. The Captain looked up from the drink he had been staring at throughout the whole conversation.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to share a story with us? Of your first kiss, or something like that?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly- that is to say, it would be entirely inappropriate to-” He was cut off by ‘boo’s and pleads from the crowd. “I’m your cap-” He started, but stopped as soon as he felt a familiar hand gently squeeze his arm. It was gentle enough that anyone else might just think he had just placed it there, but the Captain felt it. His throat tightened.

“We’re drunk, Sir. We won’t remember it.” Havers said quietly, and then, when the Captain still looked unsure, “Theo-”

“Yes okay fine yes fine!” He spluttered, desperate to stop whatever Havers was doing to him. “Well. Er. Hi-her name wassssssssally. Sally. And- and- H-avers you can…” Havers pulled his hand away suddenly, blushing and curling in on himself as he pushed it as deep into his pocket as it would go. “And we, er, well. I- She was very pretty. A-and pretty -- girls are, are er, my er. Type. I suppose. If you can call it that. And. She- Well, look, I don’t know, it was just a kiss!”

“How old were you?”

“16.”

“Where?”

“In his bedroom.” Havers almost jumped at the word his. He tried to convince himself it was just a drunken mistake. Tried very hard. But he had grasped at it before he could stop himself and now felt as though he was holding it in the palm of his hand, fists tightened so it wouldn’t escape. He begged whatever god was watching that it would still be there when he woke up tomorrow. He looked around the room desperately but no one else had noticed, they were all too busy ‘oooo’ing, or making comments about the Captain being smooth (which if Havers was sober and not in the middle of a crisis he would have laughed at) to even bother with the Captain’s slip up. Havers shifted where he sat, trying to make sure the floor was still beneath his feet. He felt like he was floating, like there would never be a ground ever again. He had never felt like this before. Every other love had been impossible or short, or both, there had never once been this dizzying hope. He dropped out of the conversation and stared into the light, only half sure it was something situated in reality and not the light of some god he was rising to meet. He felt like he was ascending. He was so used to feeling unrequited love, the sour sting when they would mention a girlfriend or a wife, the shameful burn of embarrassment like sick churning in his stomach when they made fun of his people, or rejected him outright the only time he had ever told someone about it to their face. He was so painfully used to being wrong that the bliss of the light was a stronger sedative than any alcohol could possibly be, so that for the next few hours he simply observed the conversation die down until he and the Captain were the only ones left through a lovesick lens he had never seen through before. 

“Hhavers? Are you quite alright?” The Captain asked once they were alone. The last of the men had turned in for the night a few minutes ago, and Havers had not yet opened his eyes, but it was clear to the Captain somehow that he was not asleep.

“Oh! Oh, more than alright, Sir.” He replied, his face breaking out into a grin as he began to laugh.

“Are yyou sure? You seemmmm,, drunk.”

Havers laughed again, louder. “I am! I am!”

“Well, yes, but. Yes. How much have you had?”

“Oh, see, Captain, that’s the thing! I could have had half of what I did and I’d still be this drunk. For it is not alcohol I am drunk on.” He grinned at the Captain, finally opening his eyes.

“You’ve been talking to Miller too much.”

“Nick!” Havers laughed. “Nick! Oh, God, Captain, his girl has a husband! His girl, he was telling me. I was telling him- oh!” Havers broke into laughter again. “Well, I simply cannot tell you that, now can I?” He pointed at the Captain the way one might if they were about to boop a child on their nose. Havers’ finger stopped just short. “No, no. Can’t tell anyone ever, actually, no, no one ever ever ever. Ever.”

“Havers,” The Captain started, but the rest of his sentence disappeared when he tried to speak the rest of it. Havers tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing at the Captain with the smallest of smiles on his face.

“Theodore.” He murmured, slowly and softly and full of an emotion the Captain knew he could name but also knew he would not dare to.

“William.” The Captain replied, echoing Havers’ tone almost exactly.

“Does anyone ever call you Teddy?” Havers asked oh so quietly. He moved his hand closer to the Captain, closing the gap on the sofa between them, and then rested all of his weight on it, bringing their faces close.

“No.” The Captain answered honestly. “But you may if you say it like that every time.” He said, saying words aloud that he would never normally even allow himself to think.

“Teddy.” Havers repeated, letting every letter fall out of his mouth whole and perfect.

“Does anyone ever call you Will?”

“Those who love me, perhaps.” Havers replied, almost like a challenge. The Captain took it up.

“Will.” He said. Havers smiled.

“Yes, Teddy?”

“Would you like to sleep in my room t-”

And then the clock struck 0300. 

Havers awoke the next morning with no real memory of the night before. The Captain, who remembered every single second in vivid detail, had not slept. The lonely traipse to his room at 0302 had not stopped when he arrived, and he continued to pace for most of the rest of the night trying to decode Havers' words, analyse his face, ask himself what the fuck he thought he was doing asking Havers if he wanted to sleep in his room. He hadn't even drunk that much. Not enough to have a proper hangover. Just enough to slow his thinking to just the right speed so he could ruin everything. But Havers had looked so… So in love. The Captain manually slowed his breathing. He had said his name like it was something holy, leant in as one does with a fire to feel the warmth, there was something so gentle about the way he had looked at him with all the softness in the world, eyes adoring like he would have given the Captain anything. The prospect that the Captain might not have been reading into things too much this time was terrifying. He went to wash his face.

Meanwhile, in a room further along the corridor, Havers was desperately trying to remember what had happened while the two of them were alone. He knew they had been, something in the way his blood was still pumping told him there had been whole minutes of them, drunk and alone in the room together, faces just inches apart, but he couldn't remember what he had said. What had they talked about? In those seconds before 3am? What did Havers tell him? What did the Captain know? Havers tried very hard. Mouthed out the words I love you in the hopes they forced some memory back into his head, but nothing arrived. He hoped that was a good sign, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that told him what he was feeling was more than just love now. He looked over at the blank paper on his desk, and the pen by its side. When he first spotted it that morning he had rushed over to his desk, relief outweighing the sick in his stomach, hoping he had written down what had happened with his hungover self in mind. But there was nothing there. It had jarred the memory of the Captain calling Sally's bedroom his bedroom, the desperate hope that he would remember it in the morning echoing in his skull, but nothing else. What had he meant? When he put it there at 3am last night? What did he want him to do ? He sat down at his desk, resting his head in his hands as an attempt to stop the room from spinning. And then, before he could even think about what he wanted to write, the words Dear Theodore were already appearing on the page, and the words were spilling out of him without him even pausing to think about what he was saying. What he was telling the Captain. All the things he was admitting to, all the feelings he had tried so hard to keep bottled, things he couldn’t even dare say when the only person around was Miller. He hadn’t even realised how much it all was. How much he really felt. All the words and emotions that had been swirling around his mind for the past year, from the very first time they met, that dinner at the table alone in a crowd while he tried to organise his feelings into something strictly professional, all the way to last night, and all the other times they had been alone together, words unsaid in lingering silences. So used to the feeling following him around like a shadow, so used to the Captain always being in the back of his mind, he hadn’t even realised how deep it went. How much it was. Complete and utter adoration ; he had never felt this with anyone before, not with Andrew or anyone since. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling it with anyone else. Couldn’t imagine there ever being anyone else. Couldn’t imagine an existence without him, like he had only ever been an echo of who he was meant to be until now. Like he had found his missing half. And suddenly it occurred to him that he couldn’t bare it if the Captain never knew, never found out. Blind with love and longing, Havers couldn’t picture a world in which the Captain hated him for this. For loving him so. Havers had been screaming I love you, I love you, I love you through his eyes for so long it didn’t seem logical for the Captain to be anything but accepting. All those words unsaid, spun through metaphors and painted over and the times Havers had told the Captain he’d wished his job was easier and the Captain had replied with don’t waste your wishes and Havers had laughed because he hadn’t had the confidence to tell him that he would always wish for that. That he would always wish for the Captain, even if he only had one. That it was all he ever wanted. If Havers had more than just one piece of paper he would write all the things he never got to say. That he wanted to exist in one of their evenings together forever, sat on either side of the Captain’s desk, not quite tipsy but not sober either, golden light from the sunset and the fireplace, that if he could chose one day to relive forever and ever he would chose any day that had the Captain in it. That a part of him dreads the war ending, because what will become of the two of them? That the part of it that hurts the most is that this is only temporary, that his fragile little daydream of a three bedroom house and children and a dog could never, will never, happen, and he’ll never feel the happiness that all the other men do because if he survives the war and marries some poor, poor future wife there will be nothing between them, no happiness, because his everything will forever and always belong with the Captain. That he’s not sure how he’ll cope if he does because that fragile little world is the place he always returns to when the melancholy gets too overwhelming to ignore. That his heart aches for missing it, that the knowledge that it is a futile hope is making it hard to breathe. 

When Havers finished writing he was breathing hard, his headache somehow worse than before, eyes sore, although he can’t figure out if that’s because of the hangover or the tears he realised had spilled. The letter says nothing and everything all at the same time, all the words he could never say hidden behind ones he had not meant to write until he started and found he couldn’t stop. It read a lot more sane than Havers had felt while writing it, but he hoped the true frenzy of his feelings could be read from the tear stains and smudged ink that littered the page. It was enough. The ground beneath him felt a little more solid as he began to get ready for the day, the weight of the letter in his pocket a weird comfort, a safety net for him to fall back on, the anxiety that usually came with the knowledge they might find out replaced with a strange sense of calm. 

Chapter Text

The Button House inhabitants woke the morning of the wedding to a sky already filled with snow.

“Tis bad tidings for the nuptials.” Mary warned Alison.

“Nah,, It’ll be fine.”

“ I think it’s romantic. Winter is so lovely.” Kitty replied, eyes glued to the drive.

“Agreed.” Thomas input. “Alison, would you care for a walk-”

“No. Stop asking me that, please. ”

“Yes, come on Thomas.” The Captain said, also watching the drive intensely, although trying to pretend he wasn’t. “Today is about the bride and groom and them only.”

“Ah, yeah. There won’t be a groom.”

“What?” Thomas asked. “Then how can there be a wedding?”

“Well, there’s just two brides.”

“They’re marrying each other?” Lady Button asked, looking somewhat horrified. “Isn’t that illegal? Alison, you cannot hold illegal weddings here, it will bring shame on the family name! What if you get arrested? What then? You cannot possibly leave Michael to take care of Button House, it simply will not do-”

“Woah, there, Lady B!” Pat said. “Just because it isn’t legal doesn’t mean-”

“No, no, Pat. It’s legal now. For two women to get married to each other. Or two men. If they wanted.”

“Oh.” Lady Button replied, sticking her chin in the air as if she already knew. “That is fine then, I suppose. I still disagree with the suit! In my day, a lady would not be seen-”

“Dead in trousers!” The other ghosts chimed in. “We know!”

“I’m simply stating my beliefs on what is and isn’t proper-”

“To be fair to them, you have done this lecture like four times in the past two days.”

“It’s-”

“A carriage!” Kitty interrupted. “Multiple carriages!”

“Oh, shit, that’ll be the guests. Right. Everyone, just. Stay here. And be quiet. And stay out of my way. Please.”

“Do I have to stay?” The Captain asked, leaning forward. “I did help plan everything-”

“Fine, you can come.”

“What about Havers? He won’t get in your way-”

“Fine! Havers too!”

“Well what about me?” Pat asked. “I never do anything wrong.”

“Fine! The lot of you can come! Just don’t try to talk to me or anything. And Julian don’t push anything. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“If any one of you finds a way to mess this up for me I will crucify you. I will resurrect you and crucify you.”

“ Okay !”

-------------------------------------------------

“Okay, guys?”

The ghosts looked up from where they were stood, debating the outfits worn by the latest guests to enter the room.

“There’s been a development. We can’t get to the church so… The ceremony is happening here!”

“Oh!” Kitty squealed. “Oh my goodness! The ceremony?” Alison nodded. “The whole ceremony?” Alison nodded again. “The vows?” Another nod. “The kissing?” And another. “Oh my goodness!” Kitty said again, before screaming excitedly, waving her hands rapidly in the air, breathing fast.

“Slooow down, Kitty, slow down.” Alison said.

“Sorry! I’m just! So excited!” She replied, still waving her hands but breathing slightly more steadily.

“Good! Is… Everyone else okay with that?” She looked directly at Lady Button, who stuck her chin up in the air defiantly.

“It is not proper.”

“Here we go.” Julian rolled his eyes.

“Nor correct. You know, in my day the marriage would not have counted! Would not have been allowed! And in fact-”

“Yeah, that’s awesome, but can you shout this in another room please? We need to start getting this one ready for the ceremony.”

Lady Button huffed in reply. “Well I never!” And stormed out.

“Jesus. Captain, could you help me with this? Do the fairy lights need adjusting? Mike’s gone to get chairs. Actually, maybe go with him so you can pick out the best ones. Wait, no, he can’t hear you. Sshoot. Uhm. Right, you go with Mike, I’ll ring him so you can relay which chairs he needs to bring. After that come right back here, I’ll need directing on… On the rest of it.” Alison finished, nearly putting her head in her hands before remembering she didn’t have time to break down. The Captain nodded, saluted, and walked off to find Mike. Alison picked up her phone and dialed.

“Mike?”

“Yeah? What’s gone wrong now?”

“No, nothing. I’m just- I’ve sent the Captain down to find you. He’s gonna tell me through the phone which chairs to bring. And then I’ll tell you what he says.”

“Why does he need to pick the chairs?”

“Coz he picked everything else! He’s like, a super genius wedding planner or something.”

“What? We are talking about the world war guy, right?”

“Yeah! I dunno, hidden talent I guess! I’m not complaining, he’s single-handedly made this wedding.”

“Hey, no, give yourself some credit! You’re doing amaz-”

“Alison!” The Captain shouted.

“Oh, he’s there now.”

“Oookay. Captain. These chairs?”

“No! What, are you mad, man? That would be disastrous! Alison, do not let Michael decorate a room. Ever.”

“What’s he say?”

“Uh. He doesn’t think those would be that good.”

“Huh. Okay. Those?”

“Better, but not good enough. The ones in the far corner are nice. With ribbons on them. Really brings out the-”

“He says the ones in the corner?”

“Eurgh. They’re a bit… Weddingey.”

“...This is a wedding, Mike.”

“Oh! Right, yeah. Okay. I’ll bring them up.”

“Oh, God.” Alison said, hanging up.

“Alison!” The Captain shouted, somehow already beside her.

“Jesus! What! How’d you get up here so fast?”

“This is an incredibly important mission! It cannot be compromised, go, go, go! First things first: the lights. You’re going to want nice, long loops…”

--------------------------------------------

For a ceremony that was about as last minute as it could possibly be, it went impossibly well. The wedding photographer arrived somehow through the snow, bursting through the doors about three seconds before Sam and Claire went to walk down the aisle, camera already in hand. The seats, set out in orderly rows with a precise distance between each one, were almost full, lights low and twinkling and making everything look warm, especially in comparison to the snowstorm outside, growing harsher as the light fell to shadow. The two fires that stood on the wall opposite the windows had been lit and roared warmly all evening, giving the whole event an intimate quality that could not quite be placed. The vows had been and gone, making guests and ghosts alike teary eyed, although for different reasons, the guests happy for their loved ones and the ghosts mourning something they lost. The brides’ first dance started with nervous giggling which soon evaporated into quiet, slow spins and hands gentle and eyes locked on each other like all the love in the world was contained in their partner’s eyes, like they were remembering every single time they had met eyes in their entire lives, like every single ounce of love they had ever felt was being re-felt in that very moment. They kept dancing together as the next song came on, and the guests slowly made their way to the floor, whatever light was coming in from outside dwindling into nothingness as the bright blue-red-purple-pink lights were switched on. The cold was clinging to the window panes, but the guests stayed away from them, gathering on the dance floor and at the bar as if too huddle for warmth. Drinks flowed freely, laughter and singing got louder, and the songs moved further and further away from the music the happy couple had suggested and towards typical drunk-at-a-wedding-party songs that the brides were too giddy to complain about. The sun couldn’t have been far off of rising by the time Sam and Claire announced they were leaving, off to a fancy hotel for a few nights until the planes started running again so they could fly off to their honeymoon. Soon after that everyone else began calling up taxis and wishing Alison and Mike goodbye and goodnight, thanking them for the most wonderful wedding.

“People go?” Robin asked, watching three black taxis roll up the drive.

“Yeah, party’ll be over soon. Did you enjoy it?”

“Havers and Captain didn’t dance.”

“Well, yeah, I mean… There was a lot of people. And. I dunno, Robin, I’m not 100% sure one of them’s ever gonna make a move.”

“Needs to be romantic.”

“It’s a wedding, Robin! That’s about as romantic as it gets, isn’t it?”

“Not for ghosts. Wedding is loss for them. Mary had the most happiness in the end, and she only had three years.”

Alison thought about it for a moment. Robin was right. Thomas and Kitty hadn’t lived long enough to be given the chance to marry, Pat and Lady Button had been cheated on and Julian cheated. Humphrey’s marriage was arranged, and for the Captain and Havers it was illegal. And who did that leave? Just Mary. Who only got three years. Alison sighed. “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

“S fine.”

“What are we gonna do about the Captain and Havers?” She asked, bringing the subject back round to something she felt she could actually speak on.

“Could make romantic.” Robin suggested, holding up his hands to imply he was planning on turning off the lights. “Dance in dark? Romantic?”

“Maybe? Maybe! Coz then they wouldn’t feel so… Seen. Observed. I dunno, they’re probably used to hiding. Maybe the dark will help? Thank you, Robin! Okay, yeah, that works. You watch the Captain and Havers, and if they’re ever in here alone, let me know. I’ll make the music romantic. And you do something with the lights.”

Robin nodded. Alison smiled. She hoped this was the right kind of pushing.

--------------------------------------------

The room was empty but for the Captain, stood in the centre, admiring his work. The wedding had been a success, and although it was not in his nature to be so openly proud, he couldn’t help but smile at his handiwork, and attribute the happiness of the evening ever so slightly to himself. The chairs were stacked on the far side of the wall to make room for the dancing, which had continued late into the night as the living got drunk and the dead got giddy. It was like that sometimes, as if the life seeped back into them, reanimating their actions, if only for a short while until those still with all their life ahead of them slunk into taxis and limos, stumbling into the night and across the border none of the ghosts could follow them over. It was a subtle kind of ache, the pain of nights like this ending, but it was always tangible, and so everyone tended to leave each other alone in their own private mourning until they could all wake up and act as though none of it had happened the next day. The music playing from the speakers was quieter now, old love songs and gentle classical music, as though Alison had forgotten to stop the playlist and Spotify had decided to change the mood of the house to suit its inhabitants. The fairy lights were still on though, hanging as the Captain had instructed Alison to hang them and twinkling gently, reflected against the dark of the windows and multiplied in their echoes against the walls and floor of the room. Everything was hazy and golden, as it so often was when the Captain got to thinking like this. A wedding. A partner. Requited love. Things he could never have. He sighed a sigh filled with desperate longing, that lonely ache reappearing in his chest, doubled by the events of the day and the silence left in their wake. He closed his eyes, blocking out the remnants of bliss the happy couple had left behind to imagine himself in their place. Dancing with someone. Someone. He scoffed. As if he didn’t know exactly who he wanted to be dancing with. They would be at just the right heights for the Captain to lean in, rest his head upon his chest, feel the warmth coming off him despite his lack of a heartbeat. Those steady hands on his waist, intertwined with his own, those pale, slender fingers that he had always complained about being so cold, cool against the fevered heat of his own… The Captain sighed again, dispelling the thought from his mind. An impossibility. Futile to hope for such things like that. Today it had felt like him and Havers had never been further apart. 

“Captain?” That familiar voice called softly. The Captain’s face broke into a sorrowful smile, and he opened his eyes. Havers was stood at the edge of the room, watching the Captain with those dark, attentive eyes.

“Havers.” The Captain replied, matching Havers’ tone in a way he didn’t think he could.

“I was looking for you. The wedding has made me feel…”

“Somewhat lost?” The Captain input.

“Yes.” Havers replied, looking to the side. “I was slightly unsure as to what to do with myself so… I came and found you.” He said, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. The Captain wished it was. Wished it so feverently he found himself leaning into the haze, so desperate to clutch onto his daydream that he was willing to risk ruining his reality. Just as he was about to speak, the music got louder. The Captain narrowed his eyes. Maybe Alison was still in charge of the mood of the house, after all. But, just as he was about to make a comment, Havers interrupted him with a question the Captain has only ever dreamed of hearing.

“Care for a dance, Sir?” He asked, his hand extended. He had the look in his eyes of a man sticking his hand in fire purely for the heat, ignoring the burn of the flame. A look born of desperation. A look the Captain was sure he shared, although he could not know the yearning in Havers’ eyes was the very same in his own.

“I, er. I’m afraid I don’t know how.” He broke the eye contact to look at his feet, embarrassed.

“That’s quite alright, Sir.” Havers said, his voice somehow softer as he moved closer to pick up the Captain’s hand. The Captain wanted time to stand still. “I’ll lead. Your hand goes here.” He said, guiding the Captain’s hand to his back, where the Captain pressed it lightly against Havers, hoping he couldn’t feel it shaking through his coat. “And mine goes here.” He continued, placing his hand on the Captain’s waist. The Captain's breath hitched as if on reflex, and despite not having a need for air for 75 years, he found himself wanting to draw it in quickly, as if that would bring control to the situation. "And our spare hands…" Havers murmured, running his hand down the Captain's arm, and interlocking his fingers with his own, "...Meet like this." He concluded, lifting their hands up and out to where they were meant to be. The Captain knew their fingers weren't really supposed to be intertwined like that from seeing a professional waltz once, but something about the way Havers was rubbing his thumb back and forth across his hand was stopping him from saying anything at all.  "And then…" Havers said, barely above a whisper, quiet enough for the Captain to have to lean in to hear him, so close they were practically touching. "We go like this." He said, leaning into the waltz, pulling the Captain around the floor, gently but firmly, and with a confidence the Captain had not expected from him. The Captain looked up, trying to meet Havers eyes for a reason he could not name, but Havers was dutifully looking forward and back at all the times one was supposed to during a waltz. It left the Captain with plenty of opportunity to simply watch the man he loved gracefully move about the room. He blinked a few times, for a moment questioning whether this was really reality, or just some fanciful dream his mind had cooked up in it's overwhelmed state, but he could feel Havers' hand on his waist still, feel each finger wrapped around his hand. Not for the first time, the Captain thanked whatever god was watching that he was dead, so he did not have to remember to control his breathing on top of everything else. They stayed like that for a minute or two, dancing and in denial, until the quiet waltz faded into a soft love song, and Havers dissolved his dance to a slow spin, their arms lowered slightly. 

"See?" Havers murmured, practically kissing the top of the Captain's head. "Not so hard." He said with a smile, as if to imply their dance was over, but neither one of them let go, only shifted their position. Havers traced his hand up the Captain's back, hesitating only briefly at his collar before running his hand up the back of his head, tangling his fingers into his hair. He looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. The Captain wound his hand round Havers' back until it gripped the other side of his waist, pulling Havers into him so the Captain could lean his head against his chest. Their other arms fell to their side, fingers still intertwined, Havers thumb still gently rubbing the back of the Captain's hand. The Captain closed his eyes as Havers let out a contented sigh, and felt the gentle weight of Havers' chin resting on the top of his head. They stayed like that until the song ended, neither of them daring to move. They were on top of the world, and the sensation was dizzying. After the song finished, the silence echoed as the next one failed to play, and one by one the fairy lights fizzled off. They pulled away from each other regretfully, hands trailing behind them, desperate to keep contact for just a moment longer as they stepped back, putting a cold distance between them. Thankful for the sudden dark, Havers whispered a melancholy,

"Thank you, Captain." Before retreating quietly from the room, leaving the Captain a mess and alone.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet. The only sounds were the clock, ticking away the late seconds, the crackling of the fire, and the scribbling of the Captain and Havers' pens against various paperwork. Every so often, Havers would sneak a glance up at the Captain, whose gaze remained focussed solely on whatever form he was signing. The firelight made the setting cosy and domestic, and it was late nights like these when Havers felt the closest to the Captain, the comfortable silence, the shoes subtly adjusted so the tips of them were touching. Havers would make a joke blaming his long legs and then not move them,  and the Captain would laugh and then not complain. There was a shared undercurrent of longing between them that they both knew they both knew was there without even acknowledging it, although both was sure the other did not feel it. 

Havers, having finished his work for the evening, decided to reward himself with a glance at the Captain before he got to helping the Captain with his work. As he looked up, his eyes locked onto the sight out of the window instead.

"Oh, Captain." He said softly.

"Mm?" The Captain replied, looking up at Havers.

"It's snowing." 

The Captain turned in his chair to look out of the window, where fat flakes were drifting lazily past the window, illuminated by the orange light of the fire.  "So it is." He replied, not taking his eyes off the window. Havers got up and moved to the windowsill to get a better look. The sky had been nothing but cloudy for days, so the ground was dry underneath where the snow was beginning to settle atop the drive and the lawn. It was already clinging to trees; it must have been snowing a little while before Havers looked up. The Captain stood to join him, leaning towards Havers slightly as they stood together by the window.

"It looks like it'll stay for Christmas." Havers commented.

"Hmm. That will be nice."

"Are we working tomorrow, Sir?"

"Ah… Probably. Sorry, Havers."

"That's alright, Captain. Nothing to be done about it."

"We can stop at 3 for Christmas dinner with the rest of the men, if you wish."

Havers turned to the Captain, smiling. "I would like that very much, Sir."

"We shall, then." The Captain replied, returning Havers' smile. Their faces were very close. It wouldn't take much to lean in and- somewhere in the house, a clock strikes 0100. Their heads turned towards the sound.

"1 already?" Havers asked. "I could have sworn it hadn't gone 12."

"We must not have heard it." The Captain turned back to Havers. "In that case, merry Christmas, Lieutenant."

Havers smiled. "Merry Christmas, Sir." 

-----------------------------------------------

Christmas morning was cold and bright. The snow had stopped falling momentarily to allow a harsh beam of sunlight to fall onto Havers’ eyes and wake him from a dreamless sleep. He smiled, stretching lazily, remembering the day. The 25th of December. Christmas morning. The Captain was allowing them to start at 0900 instead of 0800 today, so he had an hour to lie in. He pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, looking over at his present for the Captain, sat on his desk, wrapped in paper the same colour green as their army uniforms and tied up with a silver ribbon he had spent more money on than he would care to admit. He closed his eyes momentarily, basking in the already departing sunlight, as someone knocked on his door. He sat up straight.

“Come in.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant. Happy Christmas. Sorry if I woke you,” the Captain explained, holding a steaming mug in each hand. Havers kicked his duvet off his legs and stood to take them off him, placing them down on the desk and trying to subtly hide the present somewhere the Captain wouldn’t see it. “But I figured… Well, the men are all eating at different times today, and, we have an extra hour, and we were up late last night so… I -- figured you could do with a morning coffee. Is all. And then I also made myself a tea. I don’t have to stay if you..”

“No! No, stay, please.” Havers said, accidentally patting his bed instead of gesturing to the chair by his desk. He flushed slightly, looking down into his mug instead of meeting the Captain’s eyes. But, to his surprise, the Captain sat gingerly down on Havers bed, also looking at nothing but his mug. Havers cleared his throat.

“Apologies for the mess in here, I… Well, as you said. We were up late. I didn’t have time to clean it last night before I slept.”

“That’s quite alright, Havers. It’s Christmas. You’re allowed to slack off a little. And I did drop by unannounced.”

“I’m thankful for it though, Sir. I needed this coffee.” He smiled, and the Captain smiled back, taking a sip of his tea. “...What’s on the agenda for today, Sir?”

“Oh, just the necessary things. Drills, daily correspondence, that sort of thing. Any men who can cook are stopping at midday anyway to start cooking Christmas dinner - which will be a nightmare - so we couldn’t really do anything much anyway.”

Havers chuckled. “Yes, I’m not quite sure how Christmas dinner is going to go down. Miller is insistent we need to re-arrange the tables so they become one big one instead of the six separate ones.”

“Mmm.” The Captain hummed doubtfully. “I’m afraid he’s already at it. Him and his friends were already moving things around down there when I walked through to get our drinks. I didn’t bother stopping them.”

“No, I don’t think you would have been able to.”

The Captain smiled. “No, I don’t think so either. Still, it’s nice to see everyone so jolly, I suppose.”

“Yes. ...I am ever so glad to be situated here, Sir.”

The Captain turned to look at him. “Christmas making you sentimental, Havers?”

“No, Sir, just… You really do run things well.” Havers gave him a small smile. The Captain blushed a little, unable to look away until Havers did.

“Sh-Shall we head down? Get breakfast?”

Havers nodded. “Let me just get dressed. I’ll be out in 5.”

The Captain blushed, only just realising that Havers was in his pajamas. “Y-es. Of course. I’ll er. Yes.” He said, hastily exiting the room. 

-----------------------------------------------

Christmas dinner was as much of a nightmare as expected. Most of the men could not cook, and those who could barely could, so it was delayed ten minutes, and then thirty, and then a whole hour until all the food was finally ready and out, placed along the middle of the tables Miller did manage to arrange into one big one. There was talking and laughing, and then quite a lot of drinking, and then much louder talking and laughing as the men migrated from the main room to the living room, where they tried in vain to find a sober man to light the fire, and in the end just had to settle for the least drunk. Presents were exchanged, lighthearted, joking ones first which caused laughter to ripple through the room, and then later as the sentimentality set in, genuine gifts that the men had spent what little savings they had on.

Miller had pulled Havers away and out of the room for a moment to tell him through hiccups that he was planning on proposing to his girl in the village for her Christmas present, and Havers had to slow him down and explain to him why it was probably a bad idea to propose to married woman in the middle of the village hall when the men went over there for dancing tomorrow afternoon. Miller had looked soberly sad for a moment, before his lazy, alcohol-induced grin re-took over his face and he began making jokes about Havers and the Captain that were a little too loud for Havers’ liking.

“I’m telling you!” Miller tried again, resisting against Havers' insistent shushing. “He has a little box! He looked so secretive about it, he’s definitely gonna propose, dude.”

“Nick, you said the box was only a little smaller than mine, it can’t be a ring, you idiot.”

“Yeah! But what if it’s a pass the parcel type deal?”

“How would a pass the parcel proposal work?”

“Will! Come on, man, let me dream.”

“Do not dream about me and him getting married.”

“Aw! ‘Me and him’; you two are adorable.” Miller cocked his head to the side sweetly.

“That’s not a couple thing! Categorically not a couple thing! You do that every time I say ‘me and the Captain’! Stop it!” Havers said, getting visible flustered. Miller just cackled in reply.

“You like him so much. Little Will has a big ol’ cruushhh~~”

“Private Nicolas Miller.” Miller just laughed harder.

“Lieutenant William Havers.”

“This would be a lot easier if you actually respected my authority.”

“Bet you wanna respect the Captain’s autho-” Havers hand slamming over Miller’s mouth cut him off.

“Do. Not.” Havers said, going one of the deepest reds Miller had ever seen him go. Miller grinned under Havers hand.

-------------------------------------------

It was around 0400 hours on boxing day when the men finally began to disperse. The Captain and Havers weren’t as tired as the other men, being somewhat more used to late nights due to their evenings spent working together by firelight. There were only a few clusters of men left in the living room, threes or fours talking quietly in opposite corners. The Captain and Havers were the only two left by the fire, basking in both the heat and the comfortable silence between them. Early in the night, all the chairs had been moved close to each other in an effort to fit everyone in as people brought in more chairs from other rooms, so their armchairs were almost touching. There couldn’t have been more than an inch between the tips of the arms, and even less than that between where their hands dangled. Their hands were so close that they could feel the other hand’s presence, knew it would only take one twitch or shift to get them to brush, only one subtle movement to get them to intertwine. But the smallest movements are sometimes the hardest to make, so their hands stayed painfully close and never touched. Both were almost content with just the proximity.

“Shall we take a nightcap up in your office, Sir?” Havers asked, tilting his head in the Captain’s direction.

“Mm? Yes, maybe. Although…”

“Sir?” Havers turned to fully face the Captain.

“Well, I have something for you in my. In my, er, personal -- room. A Christmas present. For you.”

“Oh! Presents, of course. I have one for you. Maybe we could meet in your room at 0405?”

“Yes! Yes. That sounds alright. Yes. I’ll.. I’ll er, see you in 5, then.”

“Yes. Yes.” Havers nodded, standing up. “Yes.” He said again, before hastily leaving the room.

Havers, holding the Captain’s present with two hands, slowly made his way to the Captain’s room. He had checked his appearance three separate times in the bathroom mirror, double making sure everything was as it should be, and then triple checking. He refrained from stepping in for a fourth time, instead just taking a deep breath and picking up the box. The nerves were setting in, and Havers wished he could pick his fingers. What if it was too informal? Too personal? And the note? Was that too personal? What if the Captain’s present to him was just a small thing, a bottle of whiskey, perhaps, or even just some money in a card? What if he had done too much? Again? He steadied himself outside the Captain’s door, and took one hand briefly off of the box to knock. The Captain answered almost immediately, like he had been waiting for him.

“Hope I didn’t see you waiting, Sir.” Havers smiled.

“No! Not at all.” The Captain smiled back, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let Havers in. His present was on his desk, wrapped in a silky red paper with a gold ribbon that looked like it had cost almost as much as Havers’ silver one. The box was small. Maybe not small enough to be a ring, but still. Miller’s words were echoing around his head, and he cursed him for jumping so readily to conclusions. The Captain took a seat on the chair by his desk, leaving Havers no option but to sit on the end of the Captain’s bed. He held the Captain’s present in his lap with both hands, unsure as to what to say. 

"Should. Should we open the presents?" The Captain asked, wringing his hands. 

"Oh, um. Yes. Okay."

“Do. Do you want to open mine first?” The Captain asked, looking almost eager.

“Yes, alright.” Havers placed his box to the side, and picked up his present from the Captain. He admired the neat wrapping for a moment.

“Yes, I had to ask someone in the village how to wrap like that.” He chuckled slightly. Havers smiled.

“You did that for me, Sir?”

“Of course! You are my Lieutenant.” The Captain smiled. Havers turned back to the box, pulling the ribbon gently, trying his hardest not to rip the paper as he opened it. Inside was a sleek box, dark blue, opening in the middle. Havers felt his heart stop. It was still too big to be a ring, right? He looked up at the Captain, who gave him a nod as if to say go on, open it, revealing nothing about its contents. He resisted the urge to close his eyes as he did so, and pulled the lid up. It was not a ring. He felt his heart start again. Instead, it was a rather expensive looking watch, brown leather strap and silver face. Havers hoped it wasn’t real silver. He pulled it out carefully, holding it into the light, almost beaming. He put it on, moving it this way and that so it reflected the light coming from the Captain’s fire.

“Captain!” He said, overjoyed. The Captain smiled.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it! Thank you so much, Sir.”

“You’re very welcome, William.” He replied, holding on to the memory of how his name felt in his mouth.

“Would you like to open mine?” Havers said, holding out his own gift. The Captain nodded, taking it from him. He flipped over the note attached. It read: Dear Theodore, happy Christmas. Best wishes, William. The Captain tried not to blush at the use of their first names, the intimacy of it. The way Havers wrote his name. Of course he had seen him write his title before, on documents and paperwork, but never Theodore. He cleared his throat and flipped it back over, suddenly realising he had spent entirely too long staring at it, and Havers was watching him quietly, searching for a reaction. He pulled the ribbon off, placing it on his desk, before beginning to unwrap the paper. It felt thick between his fingers, high quality, and the Captain had seen the paper that was available at the village. There was a fuzzy sensation growing in his stomach at the knowledge Havers had gone out of his way to find good wrapping paper. Inside was a brown box, shiny cardboard with a thick lid the Captain slowly pulled off to reveal something wrapped in white tissue paper, which he carefully pulled out. Underneath was a small, but largely accurate, model of the latest tank the Captain had been telling Havers about all month. The Captain’s mouth fell open. He pulled it out slowly, handling it with more care than Havers had seen him handle anything with. He rotated it slowly, letting the light hit different parts of it, admiring all the little details.

“I, er. I made sure to get the most accurate one I could find for you, Sir.”

The Captain beamed at him. “Thank you so much, William.” The butterflies in Havers’ stomach multiplied tenfold at the sound of his first name. His note had had the desired effect.

“You’re very welcome, Theodore.” The Captain smiled at him, the butterflies in his own stomach doing much the same thing. There was a moment of silence as no one said anything, just both stared at each other, grinning like idiots, cradling their presents in their hands, until Havers coughed, blushing, and said,

“Shall we have that nightcap, Sir?”

And the Captain quietly agreed.

Chapter Text

“Okay.” Alison said, addressing the room. For the first time since before the wedding, everyone was present, even Mike. The Captain and Havers were pretending they weren’t avoiding each other, sat on the same sofa, but with someone safely between them so if they instinctively turned to say something to the other, they would remember what happened after the wedding with a twist of guilt and longing in their stomach. “So, the wedding went super well! Massive success, thanks guys. With extra thanks to the Captain, for directing me on how to arrange everything. Who knew he’d be so good at that! It’s almost as if you spent ages picturing a wedding.. with… someone…..” She said, trailing off, only just noticing the distance between the Captain and Havers. The Captain stared back at her, his face stone, but Havers would not meet her eyes. “U-Um, anyway.. Yeah, the wedding went well. Thanks everyone. So! To celebrate, I have decided we’re gonna throw another party! I saw how much you guys enjoyed the reception, so I figured, why not have another! Sort of! Lady B, Captain, don’t you dare complain. I know you two enjoyed yourselves last night too. And I will not be getting too drunk tonight, so I can keep things slightly more under control than the last party. Okay?” Everyone nodded in reply, although the Captain and Lady Button did so somewhat reluctantly. The Captain did not want a repeat of the wedding night. “Okay. Good. Party starts at 7. Woo!” She cheered, dancing out of the room. The ghosts drifted into their own groups, Havers following Pat as he struck up a conversation with Kitty instead of finding the Captain, who, upon seeing this, grumbled, got to his feet, and went over to Lady Button.

“Fanny. We must do something to stop this. I have no faith Alison will stay sober tonight. Last time we had a party, the morning after was a nightmare."

“Agreed. What do you suggest?”

“We need a full frontal attack. Take them by surprise, stun them, and then take control. I propose we-”

“That will never work. People like Patrick more than you, and he heads the opposition. We need someone on the inside to do the work subtly.”

“Right. And which one of us should be our spy?”

“Oh, don’t be foolish, Captain. Why would it be one of us when Havers is already over there? If he’s not already on our side, I trust you can bring him round.”

“Ah, but, I’m afraid- well, I simply- that is to say, I don’t think that will work.”

Lady Button stared down the Captain, dead faced. “He will listen to you. Our fate lies in your hands.” She concluded, before exiting the room. The Captain looked over apprehensively to where Havers was stood, to find him already watching the Captain. Havers looked away quickly, pulling his hands out of his pockets to pick at them. The Captain sighed heavily, walking over before he could talk himself out of it.

“Havers.” He announced. “Could we talk for a moment? In private?” He asked, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, and instead looking into the middle distance.

“Ohohoho!” Pat said, face lighting up. “Did something happen between you two? Finally-”

“Yes, Sir.” Havers said loudly, almost wincing at Pat’s words.

“Good.” The Captain nodded, ignoring Pat completely. “Let’s go out into the gardens.”

Havers nodded in reply and followed the Captain out of the room, leaving Pat grumbling but hopeful. 

“What is it you wished to talk to me about?” Havers asked quietly, his nervousness tangible in the air around him. The Captain looked up to meet his eyes, his eyebrows knitting together subconsciously as his own mood matched Havers’. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, to let Havers know it wasn’t about the wedding night without having to acknowledge that he had mentioned it, or even remembered it, or even that it had happened. It was a tight knot of emotions in his stomach that he wasn’t ready to untie. Whether or not Havers picked this up, he was unsure, but decided to keep going anyway in case Havers took it upon himself to talk about it of his own accord.

“I’m afraid it’s actually a matter you might slightly disagree with, Lieutenant.”

“Oh?”

“Fanny wants you to help us stop the party from getting too rowdy tonight. Be our spy on the inside, so to speak. It was her idea.”

“Oh. What… What would that include?”

“Well, nothing too aggressive. Just make sure people don’t get too drunk, especially Alison. The last party ended weirdly for a lot of us. I don’t want a repeat. Just.. Find a way to convince Patrick to keep people out of trouble slightly. I know he’s all for having fun, but… I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and Fanny doesn’t want anyone to make any noise. I know that bit is a lot harder to control, but...” He trailed off.

Havers hesitated, before nodding. “Okay. Understood, Captain.” They shared a small smile.

“Just like old times, huh?”

“Yes, Sir. Just like old times.”

--------------------------------------------

The party was going well, if you looked at it from Pat’s perspective. Everyone was happy, and placebo-drunk off of the rancid smell of alcohol that hung in the air. There was a tangible joy about the place, a combination of wedding remnants and the realisation of the weightlessness of death for all but two of the ghosts. The music was loud, and everyone in the house but Lady Button was enjoying themselves, which was all you could ask for really. Well. Everyone in the house but Lady Button, the Captain, and Havers. The latter two were avoiding the ballroom for the fear that the other would be in there. The LEDs and the loud music playing from the same speakers it had been only a few nights ago and the happiness radiating off of the people in there was enough to make either of their knees buckle with the weight of the memory. Havers was in the main room, where the chairs were gone but most of the fairy lights were still up, although turned off. The music from the party was weirdly muffled in there, and there was no light coming from anywhere. It was cold and lonely, and the idea that this was how he had left the Captain was eating him alive. He wanted to lay down on the floor and weep, but he was never one to show weakness like that, so instead he just stood in the centre of the room, pretty much exactly where the Captain had been stood a couple of nights before. At first, he closed his eyes and spun slowly, trying to imagine the Captain was still there, in his arms. He had wanted so desperately to exist in those minutes forever, spinning, no light but the fairy lights, holding the love of his life and death to him as though they were made for each other. The image of the happiness he had held in his hands and then shattered was too much to bear, so he opened his eyes, and sat down cross-legged on the floor when his legs could no longer support him.

The Captain was sat in Havers’ room.  Legs shaking, he had sat down on Havers’ bed for the first time since the last time they got drunk together. Since they were alive. Before Havers wanted to go to the front, before the Captain had died, before that fucking dance. Before it all went wrong, they had sat here, getting drunker and drunker and drunker, on a downward spiral towards an unspeakable truth, Havers’ letter like a bomb in his pocket, set to go off after the last bottle of whiskey was empty and they couldn’t dig further down. Instead, they had both fallen asleep on each other only half a bottle from the finish line, and woken up with sore necks, tangled legs, and an ache that was impossibly stronger than before. The memory was like a bullet in the Captain’s chest, but the tighter he closed his eyes the clearer it became. The way their hands had kept brushing, and they had both laughed at it without either of them making a joke. The way their eyes roamed, the alcohol making it impossible to keep themselves under control. The way Havers had said, oh dear, Captain, oh dear over and over again, and then as the evening turned into early morning, oh dear, Teddy, oh dear , love turning his slurred words pink as they left his mouth. The moments between moments the Captain couldn’t remember, blurred recollections of his hand in Havers’ hair and Havers’ uncharacteristic snort when the Captain had called them ‘friends’ and his head on Havers shoulder that the Captain wasn’t sure were dreamed or reality. The intrinsic knowledge that he had fallen asleep first, so Havers must have been the one to gently pull him under the covers and let them fall asleep together, intertwined, instead of waking him up and leading him back to his own room as a Lieutenant was supposed to.

“Captain!” Lady Button shouted. The Captain’s eyes opened with a jolt. “What are you doing? You can’t hide away while the enemy attacks! The party is in full swing, your Havers is nowhere to be found, and every time I try to talk to Patrick he- do not grumble at me, Captain! Speak up.”

“I said, he’s not my Havers.” The Captain looked up from his position on the bed, eyes set and heavy and full of the type of anger that springs from exhaustion. He looked like the only reason he was sat upright were his arms, held rigid by his sides, holding him up. If Lady Button had stopped to look, she would have assumed he could no longer stand for the weight on his shoulders.

“ That’s what your priority is now? I don’t care about-”

“Yes! That is my priority now!” He shouted, getting to his feet. “For once in your death can you please-” He was interrupted by Lady Button’s hand, slapping him across the face. He replied with an angry laugh. “Go on then. Spit it out. Tell me what it is you want me to do, and then leave me the bally hell alone.”

“I want you to go talk to Havers. Tell him whatever he said to Patrick wasn’t enough.”

“Sure.” The Captain spat sarcastically. “That’s what I’ll go talk to Havers about. The party. ” He pushed past Lady Button, and stormed down the stairs to where he knew Havers would be.

“Rude young man.” Lady Button muttered to herself, before continuing on her way away from the noise of the celebration. 

The Captain’s anger was still following him like a shadow when he entered the main room, but the sadness that dampened the air there quietened it. There was a particular type of melancholy in the room, and it gathered round Havers like an aura.

“Havers.” The Captain called, the softness with which he did so surprising him. It was a distorted echo of the night of the wedding, and the reflection felt like a stab wound in the Captain’s stomach. Havers did not need to turn around to recognise him.

“Captain.” He replied in an emotion the Captain couldn’t place. He patted the floor beside him gently, and the Captain was glad he would not have to pretend his legs weren’t on the brink of giving out. Havers was sat in a square of moonlight, and it gave him an ethereal look. It also, however, highlighted the wetness of his cheeks, and a redness in the whites of his eyes that the Captain had never once seen him with.

“H-Havers have you.. Have you been crying?”

“No, Sir.” He croaked, shaking his head and letting his hair fall into his eyes. Unfortunately, the action was accompanied by a sniffle, and as soon as he realised his mistake, he simply let his head drop as he looked down, so it would be even harder for the Captain to meet his eyes.

“Oh, Havers.” The Captain said, the love in his voice evident. He wanted nothing but to wrap his arms around Havers, and hold him forever, as if to squeeze the sadness out of him. Instead, he placed his hand on Havers’ knee.

“I’m scared.” Havers whispered hoarsely. “I’m scared I’ve ruined it all. I didn’t mean to-” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t, it didn’t-”

“Breathe, Havers.” The Captain said gently, squeezing his knee, a silent apology without mentioning what had happened by name. Havers sighed, and then shook his head.

“Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Er, yes, there is. It’s…” The Captain paused. Havers looked at him, worry behind his eyes. “It’s about the party. Fanny says you need to talk to Patrick again, apparently whatever you said wasn’t enough-”

“You’re joking.” Havers said, his voice hard as the worry in his eyes died out to make room for the anger that was rapidly replacing it.

“N-no, I’m afraid not, Lieu-”

“God in Heaven!” Havers exclaimed, pulling his knee away with a jerk, and pushing himself to his feet. “What is it with you and parties? Why do you hate happiness so much?” He shouted, his misdirected anger coming out all at once.

“What?” The Captain followed suit. “What are you talking about? I’m just respecting Lady Button’s wishes.”

“Yes, at the detriment of everyone else! What happened to your captain’s instincts? You haven’t been dead so long you’ve forgotten how to lead, have you?”

“How dare you! I know exactly what I’m doing! If anyone, you’re the one who’s forgotten how to act. You are my Lieutenant! You follow my orders-”

“Your orders are rubbish!” Havers shouted, lashing out without thinking in his haste to hurt the Captain any way he could. “You just- Could you just for once in your life just let people be? You don’t have to get involved with everything! Lady Button takes offense at everything! This is meant to be a celebration!”

“How do you know the others are even enjoying it? Sat alone in this room like a-” He couldn’t bring himself to call Havers a coward. “How do you know you don’t want my orders-” 

“Because you’re never receptive to what other people want!” Suddenly the argument was no longer about the party.

“I’m not the receptive one? Ha! That’s ironic. At least I would never leave anyone alon-”

“It’s not though, is it? Ironic? I’m not sure how you have the audacity to act as though you’re the receptive one here.”

“God, Havers.” The Captain said, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands. “How could you possibly be so blind ?”

Havers did not have a reply for that. The Captain simply stepped back, shook his head, and walked away, through the wall into another room. Havers could not bring himself to follow him. 

Chapter Text

Havers was not at breakfast. This worried the Captain, as never once in the years he had known him had Havers been late, but apparently none of the other soldiers knew either. He had scanned almost every room by mid-morning, but still no sign of him. The only place left to check was Havers quarters, but no. That would be entirely improper. ...But Havers was missing! Surely that would be a reasonable enough explanation? And as to why he didn’t simply send one of the soldiers to check… Well, he was sure he could come up with an easy excuse for that one later. It would be the first time the Captain had been in Havers’ room since the second time they got drunk. He reminded himself to breathe. It wouldn’t be so hard if it were anyone else, so why should the fact it was Havers’ room stop him? ...He could think of a multitude of reasons, but he waved them away, and set off up the stairs. 

“Havers?” He called quietly, knocking on the door. No response. “Havers?” He called again, louder this time. There was a muffled groan from inside. “Havers!” The Captain said, pushing open the door. Havers was lying on his bed, pale and sweating, eyes darting around the room under heavy eyelids.

“Good Lord, Havers, are you quite alright?” The Captain asked, kneeling next to his head and placing a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up, are you ill? Do you need the doctor?”

“Captain…” Havers tried, drawing in a rattling breath, and expelling it in a coughing fit. The Captain stood and leant out the door, shouting down the hallway for someone to bring a doctor to Havers’ quarters. The Captain pulled back Havers’ covers, rolling them at the end of his bed. His vest was drenched in sweat, but his legs were shivering.

“God, Havers.” The Captain said, mainly to himself. He placed himself on the edge of the foot of the bed. People rushed in and out, and inamongst the chaos the Captain placed a single reassuring hand on Havers’ ankle. He nodded, trying to convey his message of ‘you’ll be okay’ without showing his emotions to anyone else in the room. For a moment Havers would not meet his eyes, and the Captain worried about whether he was being too informal, and whether Havers had finally figured it out, but when he mustered the strength to turn his head towards the Captain, his eyes were filled with nothing but gratitude. Stars could have been born and died out again in the moment their eyes were locked, but eventually the Captain had to tear his eyes away for the fear his cheeks would burn as much as Havers forehead was. He turned to the doctor.

“Will he be okay?” He asked, trying to adjust the concern in his voice to that of a Captain worried for his soldier, instead of that of one worried for someone he loved. The doctor nodded.

“It’s just a fever. He should be back on his feet in a few days. Here,” he added, handing the Captain a wet towel. “Help him hold that to his forehead. I have another patient with an infected leg whose condition is considerably worse. I trust you can attend to the Lieutenant’s needs?”

“Of course.” The Captain nodded, and watched the doctor go, closing the door behind him. He turned his attention back to Havers, kneeling at the head of the bed as before. He gently set the towel on his forehead, and pulled Havers’ hand up so it was resting there. When it was clear he didn’t have the strength to hold the towel there himself, the Captain adjusted Havers hand and placed his own on top of it, holding Havers’ hand firmly to the damp cloth. Havers thanked whatever god was watching that he had a fever to blame for the deep blush spreading across his face, but the Captain was not so lucky, and cleared his throat before looking away so he would not have to provide an excuse for the red that was covering his cheeks.

“..Sir?” Havers tried, drawing in a shaky breath.

“Yes?” The Captain replied, leaning in subconsciously.

“I want to- ...want to-” Havers pauses to cough, and the Captain uses the last of his willpower to not take Havers’ hand, still beneath his own, and squeeze it. “...to tell you something.”

“No.” The Captain shakes his head. “It can wait till you’re better. Don’t expend any energy on me.”

“But-”

“Lieutenant Havers, I will not have you making yourself sicker.” The Captain said, putting on his commanding voice. He hadn’t used it on Havers in god knows how long, and if Havers could trust his lungs not to collapse, he would have laughed. Instead, he settled for a smile, unknitting his furrowed eyebrows as his face softened into an expression of pure fondness. It was enough to make the Captain melt. So, in his flustered state, he pulled back abruptly.

“Could- Can- Is there anything else you need?” he asked, pulling his hand from Havers’ forehead. “Anything I can get you? Water, perhaps, you probably want water-”

“Stay.” Havers croaked, his hand weakly wrapped around the Captain’s wrist, the towel forgotten and fallen to the floor. “Please.”

Who was the Captain to refuse? He knelt back down, picking up the cloth with his free hand. Havers let the hand that was curled round the Captain’s wrist fall back onto his chest, closing his eyes as the Captain pushed Havers’ hair back. The Captain gently placed the towel back on Havers forehead, and Havers let out a sigh full of a bittersweet mixture of relief and longing. For a reason the Captain will not name, he let his spare hand remain tangled in Havers’ hair, instead choosing to focus all his willpower on not leaning in.

“Sir?” Havers asked again, barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” The Captain replied, mirroring the volume of his Lieutenant.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Staying.”

“Well, yknow,” The Captain said, half laughing. “In sickness and in health!” The silence in the room was tangible. It only took a moment for the Captain to realise what he said, but that moment was possibly the longest moment in Havers’ life. “Ah- Not that we’re- yknow, married or anything!” He laughs awkwardly. “Because that would be, well, yknow, and, well, I mean, i- in some ways (!), yknow, our relationship is like a marriage. Because, well, it’s my duty to look after you. In- In a strictly captain and lieutenant way, you understand! A-and…” He trails off, only just noticing Havers’ quiet chuckles in between coughs. “...Is something funny, Havers?” He asked, genuine confusion in his voice.

“No, Sir, not at all.” Havers replied, his laughter fading out. He locked eyes with the Captain, glee clear in his expression. “What were you saying about us being married?”

“Ah- I- Oh! You’re joking. Oh.” The Captain said, relief flooding through him. “Of course.” He smiled, looking down in order to hide the blush that had once again spread across his face. “Very good, Havers. Very good.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, Captain.” Havers replied, joining the Captain in his laughter. There was shouting coming from the courtyard down below, a drill of some sort most likely, but it was lost to the two of them, adrift in their shared cocktail of relief and giddy hope. 

---------------------------------------------

"I thought you said you wouldn't get ill." Havers said, taking a seat at the Captain's personal desk in his room. 

"I'm not-" the Captain croaked from his position, lying weakly in his bed, covers thrown off the foot. 

"I distinctly recall you telling me not to worry about transmission, and not to bother the doctor, because you wouldn't pick up my bug."

"I haven't. I'm just-" he tried, attempting to push himself up into a sitting position.

"Woah, woah, woah." Havers interrupted, gently placing his hand on the Captain's chest to push him back down again. Once he was, Havers let his hand lay there. "Don't try to pretend you're alright. You're ill, Sir. Take the day off."

"But-!"

"Take it off! It's only one day, things will be fine."

“Havers-”

“Leave me in charge. I’ll take care of everything. Okay?” Havers said, his voice softening. The Captain sighed.

“I’ll fall behind on my paperwork.” He attempted, but he could feel himself giving in. The subtle weight of Havers’ hand on his chest was enough to make him want to stay exactly where he was forever.

“I know you’re a few days ahead for this exact reason. Take the day off.”

“I can’t.” His eyes were already getting heavy. His bed was warm. Havers’ face was close to his. He had leant in at some point to speak quietly to him, and hadn’t moved back. In his delusional fever-addled mind, he briefly wondered whether or not Havers would stay if he asked him to.

“Sir. You’ll die of exhaustion. It is my duty as your Lieutenant to ensure you stay alive.”

The Captain let out a wheezing chuckle. “In..” He attempted, turning his head to face Havers. “In a strictly captain and lieutenant way?”

Havers laughed quietly. “In sickness and in health.”

“I’m so sorry for that, Havers, I don’t know what I…”

“No need to apologise. You were worried. We all do stupid things when we’re worried.”

“Mmh.” The Captain replied, his noise of confirmation turning into a rattling cough. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

Havers said nothing, only traced his hand up the Captain’s chest to rest it against his cheek. He stopped there for a moment, trying desperately to commit the shape of the Captain’s face to memory. The fever combined with the newly emerging butterflies going rampant in his stomach was enough to make the Captain feel sick, but he did not adjust his face or move Havers hand. After a moment, Havers sighed, dropped his eyes to the floor and stood, pulling his hand away with a tenderness he knew he should be burying.

“I should go. I have paperwork to do.” He smiled, but did not meet the Captain’s eyes.

“Yes. Yes. Report back to me at the end of the day as usual.”

“Yes, Sir. Rest well.” Havers said, before leaving the room with more haste than he meant to, disappearing out of the door and down the corridor to a world that didn’t contain feelings he wasn’t allowed to have at every waking moment. 

Chapter Text

The music was almost loud enough to drown out Havers’ thoughts. The minutes he’d spent alone in the main room after the Captain had left him were still somehow ringing in his ears, the silence still echoing. He’d been called blind by almost every ghost here in their own way, but never from the Captain. There had been something almost bitter in it, like he was tired of something that had been dragging on for too long.

“Blind.” He muttered to himself. “ I’m the blind one?”

The crush of bodies and the smell of beer was almost enough to get Havers tipsy by proximity. He scanned the room, pretending to be looking for no one in particular while all the while he latched on to any green he could find. It was never him. He felt like he’s asked a million people about his whereabouts, but no one could give a straight answer. It was as though no one could see he was wobbling on the edge of a diving board. A very high up diving board.

“Alison!” He called, reaching out for her despite knowing his hand would go right through her. The only things he could pick up now were pens and paper. Luckily, she heard him, and spun around to face him.

“Havers! Are you enjoying the party?”

“No, not at all.”

Alison laughed, throwing her head back. “Missing the Captain?”

“What? What makes you think that?”

“It’s obvious! You have that look on your face! The only time I ever see either of you like this is when the other is off doing something.”

Havers blushed. “No. That’s not it. I just.. Don’t like this song. That’s all.”

“And that’s ruined the entire party, has it?”

“...Yes.”

Alison laughed again. “Sure, whatever.” But before she could dance away, Havers stopped her.

“Wait! This is.. Entirely unrelated, but you haven’t happened to have seen-”

“He’s outside.”

“You don’t know who I’m looking for.”

“Yes I do~!” She sang, before disappearing into the crowd. Havers sighed and made his way towards the doors. 

“The sky is absolutely dazzling, isn’t it?” Havers turned to look at the Captain. His neck was craned back, his face almost parallel with the sky. His eyes darted from star to star, drinking in the vast expanse of nothingness scattered with light. Havers smiled to himself, but only because he knew the Captain wouldn’t see it. Neither of them mentioned what had just happened. It was clear neither of them wanted to. Just the proximity, the quiet of the evening outside the house, the after-effects of pushing through the joy that oozed out the hall was enough to remind them both of… Well, of everything.

“Absolutely dazzling indeed, Sir.” He replied, matching the Captain’s stance in turning his attention towards the night sky. The cold was gently biting, but the wind was still. The quiet was a heavy comfort, like waking up woozy after a long, warm nap. When they were alive, Havers had found peace in that feeling. It was different from the snap of the war, the ticking clocks that felt like a countdown, a gun round every corner. Havers was not a pacifist, but that never meant the violence didn’t make him sad. But now the war was over. It had been that way for 80 odd years. And the feeling made him dizzy. Napping for too long always gave Havers a fever. It was a perfect evening to ruin by spitting out the weight that’s been sitting at the bottom of his stomach.

“Did you ever read my letter, Theodore?”

The Captain jumped at the use of his first name. He hadn’t heard it in years and, in all honesty, was starting to forget there was still anyone around who remembered it other than him. He refrained from moving his hand from his pocket to his chest, as if some instinct was telling him to check his heart was still beating. It wasn’t, but the Captain suspected if he were alive it would be working on overdrive. He turned away from the stars to look in the opposite direction to Havers, as if he could see something of great interest in the trees by the far side of the house.

“I- um-” He faltered. He blushed slightly with embarrassment at his obvious flustered state, and then shook his head as if to disperse his feelings into the night air. “No, Havers, I’m afraid I didn’t.” He turned to look at Havers, but just locking eyes with him was enough to make the butterflies erupt in his stomach, so he went back to watching the sky for the fear that he might throw up. “Whatever could be of such importance that it is still relevant 80 years after the war?”

“It was, ah, a personal matter, Sir. But I suppose it will have rotted away somewhere in this house by now. It is of no consequence.”

“Oh, well I believe it is still in my pocket.” The Captain said, reaching in to where he kept it and pulling it out. 

“I- ha! You, w- um, what?” Havers spluttered. “You kept it?”

“Of course! You told me not to read it until you were dead.” He said seriously. Havers smiled fondly. “I assumed it was a piece of top secret information you were to take to the grave.”

Havers laughed loudly. It was a particular laugh the Captain had only ever heard when they were both drunk, and it made him giddy to think it was something he could now produce while they were sober. He didn’t think ghosts could feel such warmth, but it was inexplicably spreading through him as if he had been revived. “Well,” Havers said, still grinning. “We are at the grave.”

“Are you giving me permission to read it, Lieutenant?”

Havers nodded. “You will forgive me if I ask you not to do so out loud. I would not like my ramblings repeated back to me.” The Captain nodded in reply as Havers stepped away a few paces, and turned to face the house so he did not have to watch the Captain’s reaction. With shaking hands, the Captain opened the letter. He thought of all the nights he had laid awake, feeling its corners digging into his chest, running his finger along the lettering on the envelope, pacing his room as he stared at it, trying to figure out what it might say without opening it, holding it up to the light of the sun in the hopes some of the words inside might show through the page. All in vain. Days spent narrowing his eyes and turning it over in his hands, willing the words to come to him through a vision, a dream, anything, never daring to actually rip it open and see for himself. Even when he was alive, it had haunted him like a shadow, all consuming in the dark and still floating somewhere around him in the day. He had never let anyone else see it. Hidden in his pocket, under his bed, in the only draw that had a lock. Something in the way Havers had given it to him had stayed with him. The fear mixed with something he couldn’t identify swirling round his eyes. He had looked pale and nervous and like he hadn’t slept in weeks and it was something the Captain had never seen on Havers before or since. It had struck the Captain so particularly that even when Havers was dead, he hadn’t dared even take a peek. And now he was being given explicit permission to. He took a deep breath, and began to read.

Dear Theodore,

My deepest apologies for the abnormal manner in which I have addressed you, but this letter calls for it. It is spoken from the heart, so-to-speak, and I want to give you the whole honest truth. Unfortunately, it is a very difficult truth to give. It feels as though the truth has gotten so big inside of me, I’m now struggling to pull it out of my mouth, despite the pain it’s size causes me. It is inexplicable and unexplainable and I cannot for the life of me figure out where - or how - to begin. So I suppose I will start from the beginning, and go from there. 

The truth is, I have always admired you. You always have a plan in a crisis, always know what to do and how to do it, like everything is clear and simple through your eyes. You know exactly where to go. It has never been that clear cut for me. Things shift and slide into each other, and I have a tendency to inject emotion into situations that could really do without it. This is why it was not a shock when those feelings of admiration turned into something more. Just another heavy thing to carry around quietly like it was not even there. When the world is as it is, one gets very used to hiding things like that. I put my feelings in a box at the back of my mind, and let it gather cobwebs in the hopes that one day, it would disappear without my notice. And then we got drunk together. Alcohol has a way of shaking off spiderwebs, and bringing old forgotten boxes back into the light. I’m not sure what it was. Something about your laugh, maybe, or the way your eyes moved. The whole night is hazy, muffled and coated in something sweet. Every time I think of it I view the evening through a sugar lens. I can’t even remember what we spoke of. Far off lands and old memories, perhaps. Or maybe we said nothing at all, just the odd word here and there between laughter and drink. Either way, it was all I needed. The something more turned into something even more. The lump in my throat became a weight in my stomach that I couldn’t speak around. You became impossible to ignore. I had always been a hard worker, but now it was for you. I’m sure you noticed the shift. The extra tea in the mornings and the occasional joke in the hope I would hear your laugh again. You didn’t comment, but I watched your eyes react. Last night we got drunk again. It was a stupid decision on my part, but I didn’t have the willpower to stop it once it started. It was even better than the first time. I don’t remember much, but I do remember the story you told of your first kiss. You called ‘Sally’ a him once or twice, not enough for anyone who wasn’t hopelessly in love with you to notice, of course, but I remember. It was the final domino falling. The truth has become too big to hold. 

So now I sit at my desk in the early morning, nursing a headache, sore eyes, and a confusing mass of hope and fear and love that is stronger now than I have ever felt it. All of this to say, if you haven’t figured it out already, I am in love with you. Do whatever you wish with this letter after you are done with it. Keep it, burn it, expose me, it is up to your superior judgement. If you have obeyed my wishes and waited until I am dead, it is of no consequence to me now anyway. Just know that if I have not asked for it back, I still love you. I loved you right up till the very day I died. Perhaps I will love you forever. I can’t imagine ever feeling anything else.

Always yours,
William Havers

“H…” The Captain tried, but his throat had closed up. He wasn’t sure if it was the tears welling up in his eyes, or the weird cocktail of shock and hope flooding through his body. “Havers you… Um,” He coughed. “You had feelings for me. You loved me.”
“Loved?” Havers laughed, a strange, sorrowful laugh the Captain had never heard him use before. “Do you know what I meant when I said forever? Loved?” He turned back to face the Captain, looking him directly in the eyes. “I never stopped.”

“You…” The Captain trailed off, still trying to comprehend it all.

“You’re a smart man, Sir, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Havers smiled politely, nodded his head, and then walked back into the house. The Captain watched him go, head swimming. He looked back down at the letter. That familiar hand spelling out all the words he had only ever dreamed of hearing. A hope he had long ago deemed foolish come true. I will love you forever. Those five little words sat like all the weight in the world in his hand. He never wanted to put them down. 

Havers pushed his way back through the party. A weight had been lifted, and now all he wanted was the peace and quiet of his room. Well, that wasn’t all he wanted, but the other thing would come in it’s own time.

“Hey!” Alison shouted. “Did you find him?”

“Yes. We had a very… The party has been good, but I think it’s time I retire to my room.”

“Did something happen?” She asked, concerned.

“Yes.”

“A good something?”

“I suppose we will find out. I have forever to wait.” He smiled, before heading up the stairs. 

Back in his room, he let out a breath he’d been holding. He didn’t really need to breathe anymore, but sometimes it was nice to feel grounded. He picked up his pen and used it to press play on a record Alison had put on for him a few days before, sat down, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t intending to sleep, just to think. Was that the right thing to do? To tell him to read it? And then walk off before explaining? It felt right, but Havers didn’t want the Captain to take it the wrong way. Not that there was really any other way to take it. He sighed again, and let his mind wander to more pleasant thoughts.

“Thomas!” The Captain called, grabbing his wrist.

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy? This song has inspired several new verses for my latest work.”

“There are more important things at hand than your ‘poetry’. What would you do if someone confessed their love for you? Hypothetically.”

“WHAT? Is Alison planning something? Is this party for me? Oh, I must find her and tell her there is no need for such a show-”

“NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU. This is a completely hypothetical situation, which has nothing to do with you, Alison, me or Ha- or anybody.”

Thomas sighed angrily. “Fine. Do I reciprocate their feelings in this hypothetical?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I confess my love back then, you oaf!”

“HE WALKED OFF BEFORE I COULD!” The Captain stopped. “I mean, hypothetically, what if they had walked off before you could?”

“Oh!” Thomas grinned. “Well, if you needed romance advice for you and Havers you only need ask, I am-”

“Did someone say romance advice?” Julian asked, walking through the wall. “Sorry to interrupt, gents, but I believe I could be of some use here. First things first, describe her to me. In detail. ”

“Oh, well if neither of you are going to be of any help at all, I will just have to do it myself! By which I mean figure out this hypothetical! Havers has nothing to do with it! Imagine I’m slamming this door!” The Captain shouted, walking out into the main room.

“Oh! It's Havers! I should have guessed really. The Captain did not seem the type to engage in the hunt.” Julian wiggled his eyebrows. Thomas sighed angrily.

“How can you possibly dull down the greatest poetry of them all into something so animalistic? Love is so much more! It is a fire on the coldest of days.. It keeps all dread and nightmares away… It- oh, he’s gone.”

“Havers?” The Captain called gently through the door. The sounds of an old love song drifted gently from the record player he knew Havers kept inside, and the Captain suddenly got a vision of him and Havers, sat on opposite arm chairs, listening to this music together. It is this vision of complete contentedness that spurred him through the door when Havers replied,

“Come in.” The Captain stepped through, taking a seat on Havers’ bed. Havers opened his eyes to look at the Captain, smiling with a mixture of what he now recognised as love, and sadness. He imagined his face looked much the same.

“Can we talk about your letter? Or do you want me to leave?”

“We can talk.” He nodded, a picture of acceptance, as if the other stages of his futile grief had passed him by.

“Okay… Why didn’t you just tell me? When we were alive?”

“It was illegal, Sir. And even if it wasn’t, a Captain and a Lieutenant? It never would have been allowed.”

“So why even write the letter in the first place?”

“It all got too much. I had to get my feelings out somehow or I would have done something incredibly rash.”

“Like?”

“Kissing you, perhaps, I’m not sure. Something that would have gotten me killed. And besides, I wanted you to know. Not while I was alive, but I wanted you to know someday.” 

The Captain blushed. “So why leave? If you loved- love me as you say you do. Why leave for the front?”

“Ah… That answer is a little more complicated.”

“We have time.” The Captain said softly.

“Someone found out. He must have read my letter before I gave it to you, or noticed something about the way I was acting around you. Either way, he confronted me. Told me I was to leave for the furthest front I could get to, or he would disgrace us both. My own fate was of little consequence compared to yours. I could not let you face hanging because of my own short-sightedness. I left for the front as soon as possible.”

“You could have died.”

“Better than the both of us dying.”

“Who did that to you?”

“Lance Corporal Billy Cranor.”

“That bastard, I swear-”

“It is of no consequence. If he did not die in the war he will be dead now anyway. I made it back in the end.”

The Captain nodded. “And you still feel the same?”

Havers nodded in response. “If not more so.”

“God, Havers, I…” The Captain lent forward, placing his head in his hands. “I thought you left because you found out how I felt for you. ”

“You.. You had feelings for me?”

“I could have written that letter myself.”

“...Do you still feel that way?”

The Captain laughed slightly, looking up at Havers through his hands. “Do you know what forever means, Havers?”

“Call me William.” Havers said, standing. The Captain stood to face him, grinning.

“Okay, William.” He said, taking Havers’ hands. “I love you.”

“Teddy…” Havers said, running one of his hands up the Captain’s arm, resting it against his cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth gently. The Captain’s breath hitched, as if Havers was bringing him back to life. “I love you too.” The Captain wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so instead settled on saying nothing, and using his frazzled nerves as an adrenaline boost to give him the confidence to close the gap between them. Havers stepped back in shock, pulling the Captain with him, and they ended up against his desk. Havers used the hand that wasn’t now tangling itself in the Captain’s hair to steady himself while the Captain ran his spare hand up Havers’ chest and round to the back of his neck, leaning against him so they were pressed together, legs tangled, breathing hard between kisses despite not needing to.

“Theodore.” Havers murmured. Everything was upside down, and so somehow the use of his full name felt more intimate than Teddy.

“William.” The Captain replied, pulling away for a moment to rest his forehead against Havers’, his eyes closed.

“Is this.. Our room now?”

“Oh, no.” The Captain shook his head. “This room is far too small. You’ll move into mine.” Havers laughed. “If that’s alright?” He added.

“Quite alright, Sir.” Havers replied, smiling. The Captain let out a contented sigh, and then a small yawn.

“But here will do for tonight.” The Captain said tiredly, pushing himself off of Havers. Havers nodded, his hands trailing down the Captain’s arms until their fingers intertwined.

“Quite right.” He replied, gently pulling the Captain into bed with him as he collapsed on top of it, fighting off a yawn.

“Hmm.” The Captain hummed as they shifted together, arms curling round each other, the Captain’s head tucked until Havers’ chin.

“My Teddy.” Havers said quietly, half asleep. The Captain smiled softly.

“My William.” He replied. 

Chapter Text

“Havers!” Billy called, slinging his arm around Havers’ shoulders as they walked.

“Good Lord, are you drunk, Cranor? It’s barely afternoon.”

“No, not at all! Just happy an issue I’ve been having is about to be sorted.”

“Oh, that’s very good to hear.”

“Yep! If you want something doing, do it yourself. This room will be fine.” He said, swinging the both of them through the nearest open door.

“I’m sorry?” Havers asked. “If you wish to speak with me we can do it in the Captain’s office, it might be more comfortable than-”

“Nope! Wouldn’t want him walking in for this one, I’m afraid, Sir.” Billy said, locking the door behind them.

“Lance Corporal?” Havers frowned, a warning edge creeping into his tone.

“You will not say a word. You will nod or shake your head in reply only.” He said, picking up a pistol from the windowsill. “You will listen to what I have to say.” He loaded it. “And then you will follow my orders. Or I will shoot you.” He finished, clicking the safety off.

“Cranor, what is this-”

“I SAID DON’T SPEAK.” Havers closed his mouth. “God.” Billy laughed bitterly. “You really thought you could get away with it? Just waltz in and corrupt our Captain like that? And there wouldn’t be any repercussions? I knew it, I always knew it. I knew it from the moment you sat down with him at breakfast. I told you he might have been a gay and you just went ahead and sat down with him anyway.” Havers’ face drops visibly. The floor falls out beneath him. “That was your first mistake of very, very many. I’ve put in a request for you for a transfer. The train leaves at 9pm, and you will be on it. You will make your way to the North African fronts, where you will hopefully die in war. I don’t have the power to expose you, they wouldn’t believe a Lance Corporal over a Lieutenant, but if you don’t do as I say I will do my best to ruin you both. So in reality, I’m being much kinder to you than you deserve. You have three options. Die, run, or face the consequences of your disgusting nature. Will you run?”

Havers hesitates, and then nods. There’s only one option really. Only one that doesn’t result in the Captain losing his position. His reputation. Losing all the things he cares about, truly cares about. And Havers does not consider himself on that list. Only one option that saves them both, even if it's at the expense of them. And Havers’ foolish longing to stay with the Captain does not even nearly outweigh the knowledge that he could not live with himself if he ruined the Captain. He has done enough damage as it is, taking liberties he should not have been taking, his hand on the Captain’s chest, his head on the Captain’s shoulder the last time they were drunk, his eyes lingering on the Captain’s mouth, always always, Havers, where he knows he should not be.

“Good.” Billy replies. “Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

[homophobia ends here :)]

“Captain.” Havers said, the word cracking as it left his mouth. He felt sick.

“Havers.” The Captain smiled. “What is the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I, er. I’m afraid I’m going to be leaving you, Sir.” The Captain’s face fell.

“What?”

“I’ve… Put in for a transfer, Sir. It… There’s a front in North Africa… The train leaves at 2100 hours.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“You’re leaving.”

“I’m afraid so, Sir.”

“Er. Okay. Er.”

“Are you alright, Sir?”

“Why are you doing that?”

“It is my duty, Sir. To fight. For king and country. And all that.”

“No, not that. Not- not leaving. Why are you calling me sir so much?”

“Oh, um. That… You are my Captain, Sir, are you not?”

“Well, yes. Yes. But… Well, we- that is to say, are we not..?”

“Not what, Sir?”

“Stop! I mean. Er. I-if you could refrain from… I thought… I simply thought…”

“Thought?”

“Thought we were more.”

Havers feels his stomach drop out of his torso. “More?”

“More than just captain and lieutenant. You know my name. You… Why not use it?”

“I… I fear it might… Make me change my mind. Sir.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” The Captain’s voice was small.

“I’m afraid not, Sir.” Havers looked at the floor.

“William-”

“Please don’t.”

The Captain took a breath. It felt like the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Havers asked, meeting the Captain’s eyes.

“Enjoy the front, Lieutenant.”

“Sir?”

“Dismissed.”

Havers nodded. His head felt so heavy. He backed out of the room, leaving the door open. He couldn’t bare to shut it. The Captain did not move to close it either. He simply stood where he was, trying his hardest to stay upright. 

The night air was cold, but Havers barely felt it. He was running a fever, and sick was rising in his stomach. He kept trying to breathe and choking on the air; he hadn’t stopped shaking since Billy pulled him into that room that morning. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Could he really just leave everything behind like this? Die far away from the man he loved, lost forever on some front somewhere, never returning to the place he had come to view as home, more so than his childhood village or its lake or any memory of his youth, painted gold by nostalgia. But what were the alternatives? Die here instead? Knowing the Captain might die too? Curse the thing that mattered most to him to some brutal, unjust execution? He didn't really have any other choice than to say goodbye. Still, it hurt. To look up at the house - at his home - for what he knew would be the last time, to catch a glimpse of his Captain stood waiting by the window, to know that the only things he could do was wave when he wanted more than anything to run up to the Captain and say something, do something, do anything to change things. For a breif moment, in his head there was a chance for them. He could run back up, confess his love, they could run away together, find a farm to run, live away from everyone forever, but the dream shattered with the sound of Billy's laughter coming from the front door. He was stood joking with another man, casual, as if he wasn't in the process of ruining someone else's life. Havers raised his hand at the Captain. The Captain raised his back. And then, without turning round for the fear he would forget how to walk forwards, Havers was gone.

He watched Havers turn to leave from the window, the realisation that he really, truly, has to let go now swirling in the pit of his stomach. No more denial, no more telling himself to stop and then letting himself carry on, all those nights he swore he would stop loving Havers only to wake up the next morning to love him even more. But how can one let go when one never truly held on at all? All those things he could have said, should have said, could have done, should have done. And he didn't. Why? Fear? The coward's emotion? Worried for his own godforsaken safety when he should have been busy doing everything in his power to love. Fear. He scoffs. Such a stupid hurdle to fall at. The most selfish of emotions. How dare he? How could he put his own self-preservation above doing everything in his power to love Havers. To let Havers know how he feels. And yet. He does not move from his position by the window. He does not run out, spill his emotions, open the floodgates and let every single thing he'd tried so hard to bottle spill out. Shout a confession into the air without a damn about who hears it. All the things he should have said. I love you. I think we're soulmates. I hope we meet in the next life. All those speeches he had shouted in his head, all the unspoken I love you s every time their eyes met, every time now, love like quicksand like drowning like the slowest, most excruciating death he had ever experienced. It filled him up, made him more than whole, overflowing, overwhelmed. Every atom of his that brushed against Havers an electric shock, a breath sucked in too fast, a hand jerked away too fast, too flustered, too fearful. Some days it felt like he couldn't open his mouth for all the secrets he kept trapped under his tongue; the undercurrent worry that he would one day speak without thinking and tell Havers something he shouldn't. And now he never would. Never. The Captain had always slightly admired the finality of the word, organised, almost symmetrical, even, never , but now it symbolised everything he had never even dared to think about. The shake in his hands he was worried would never go away. The face that accompanied the word love he was worried would never disappear. All the things he would never say. All the things he would never do. Never, never, never. The ache in his chest. The shake in his breath. The bags under his eyes, and the tears in them too. Everything and always and never. If he were a stronger man he would go now. Run after the love of his life. But he is not. The man he believed to be his soulmate is out of sight now, half way down the drive. Soulmates. Something he never really believed in until recently, something he found the notion of rather stupid, never any time for romance until Havers walked into his life and turned all of his everything upside down. He didn’t believe in past lives. Not really. But he had loved Havers so fast, too fast, like he knew him. Like it was destined. And if they are real? It would be the Captain’s only wish that they meet in the next one too. How would he cope? Without him, how could he possibly? His memory in the corner of every room, a ghost that would not leave, a stubborn shadow, how could he possibly cope? He had felt this before but never so much. So much, too much, way too much to handle. He knows this loss, he met it first when he left Sam to fight. Always a war on. But it never split him open quite like the loss of Havers did. Nothing else before or since had wrecked him so completely. The concept that he would have to wake up tomorrow and still exist without him, still breathe and live and move and be the Captain without him, was impossible. Incomprehensible. All the last times he didn’t even realise were last times. The last time they got drunk together. The last evening spent alone together in his office. Their last swim in the lake. Their last afternoon off together. The last trip into the village with him. The last time their hands would ever brush. The last time their eyes would ever lock. The last time he would ever see him at all. He will lose him forever. His worst fear, somehow, through all the war and the weapons they keep round every corner and the constant threat of invasion, come true. And his second. His worst fear that he would lose Havers, and his second that he would lose him without telling him what his worst fear was. The walls are closing in. The sky is falling. The fire in the grate is too hot, too bright, and the ground beneath his feet is collapsing, and he will never stand again. 

Chapter Text

Dear Captain,

I am aware I never asked you if I could write to you from my station on the front lines, but I believe I found a true friend in you, and am not willing to let the war seperate us. 

It is bally warm here, Sir. I never thought I’d be saying this, but I miss the cool winters of Button House. I miss the early setting of the sun and the nights by the fire. I think by the time the war is done I will never miss summer again. I will have had enough summer to last me a lifetime.

Let me know how you and the men are doing.

Your Lieutenant,
Havers

Dear Lieutenant,

There would have been no need to ask. I would have said yes. I’m glad you are writing to me. Let me know what it’s like to truly have a pop at fritz! Thank you for not letting the war seperate us. I would have done the same if I’d have known where specifically you were stationed.

Unfortunately, it is bally cold here. The sun goes down at around 1600 hours now. It is melancholy here without your high spirits to lift up the men, although the nights by the fire remain jolly as ever, I hear, if a little more drunken. The new Lieutenant appears to be quite the drinker. I believe it has brought something out in the rest of them, although I cannot complain. It keeps them happy and out of my way. Still, I cannot help but miss your calming presence, or your company during my late nights working. I don't believe I am the only one. Miller looks over at our table most meal times. I'm sure he misses you just as much as I do. Enjoy your everlasting summer, Lieutenant.

Yours,
Captain.

Dear Captain,

Words cannot describe how happy I am to find you have written back. Letters take so long to come, I was beginning to worry you wouldn't. Tell me more of winter. I see Button House at night when I close my eyes. 

The front is   interesting. A lot is happening, until suddenly it isn't and we sit waiting for days on end. ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////. I would not like to speak of it. Ask me of the scenery instead. 

I take it the new Lieutenant is not quite up to your standards? I would say we were never very much of a drinker, but when we did we had a lot. I haven't drank since my first night in Africa. That splitting headache combined with the sudden heat was enough to put me off it until I am safely back in England. And how I long to be. The men here are loud and rowdy, as is their captain. Think of the youngest men on the furthest table, but louder and drunker and more of them. I ache for the childish jokes of the Button House men. Something I never thought I'd say. I ache for Button House. ~~I ache f~~

Could you relay a message to Miller for me? Just tell him I miss him. Tell him where he may write to. The summer is better for your letters, Sir.

Yours,
Havers.

Dear Havers,

Of course I wrote back. Not write to my favourite Lieutenant? The heat must be sending you mad. Winter is settling thick and fast. Frost clings to the lawn and the windows most mornings. Wet snow falls fast but does not settle. The men come in rosey cheeked, fingers frozen, gasping for a fire or a drink to warm their bones again. A thin layer of ice has settled over your beloved lake. The trees are leafless and lonely in the dark, which begins to grip the world before one has even recovered from lunch. The house is cold. My fingers are stiff as I write. I miss your joke about wearing three pairs of gloves. Perhaps you could send me yours, as you don't need them anymore. I do believe your hands are bigger than mine. They might fit over my other two pairs.

Your report of the front appears to have been redacted. Maybe it is best we do not talk of the fighting. Let us stick to lighter subjects. What’s the scenery like over there?

And no, not quite. I feel you’ve raised the bar considerably, Havers. And at least when we drank, we never got loud. Or at least, I presume so. My memory of those nights is quite hazy, I must admit. I will drink here for your safe return.

I will give Miller your message tomorrow. I’m writing this quite late, so I cannot go now, but I would not want to delay the posting of your letter. Anything to help you all the way over there in Africa.

Yours,
Captain

Dear Captain,

Thank you, Sir :). And thank you again, for your description of winter. It helps me sleep at night, imagining I am back there. Only a few rooms away. I have so much free time here, now I am not helping you with your work all the way into the evening. It’s incredibly dull. I miss ~~y~~ it. To help with your winter, I have also sent you my gloves, as requested. My hands are bigger than yours. Let me know how you find them.

I happen to agree with you on not talking about the war. It is all one ever hears about, which I suppose is somewhat fair. The scenery here is painful and gorgeous. Golden sand stretches for miles in places, like a burning sea, not unlike the lake at sunset - oh, how I miss the lake - shifting with the wind to create swirling illusions against the horizon. And the sky. The brightest, deepest blue, like a great shining jewel. Behind the front, faded trees and bushes dried out by the sun cling together in desperate clumps, dehydrated. Beneath them, the sand turns to course dirt, dry enough to be dust. I have been coughing non-stop from inhaling sand. Everything is pretty and sharp enough to cut yourself on, including the air. 

Thank you, Sir. I would drink here for the same reasons, but I do not want another hangover like that. I don’t think we are very loud drunks. I think rather we just used to retire to your office and then struggle not to fall asleep in our chairs. I miss those days. I cannot say I regret leaving for the front, but I do miss your company greatly.

Thank you for passing on my message to Miller. I got a very happy letter from him just before yours came through. Thank you for noticing he was missing me. I was so caught up in my sudden departure it didn’t even occur to me he might. You remain a wonderful Captain.

Yours,
Havers

Dear Havers,

You’re very welcome :-). I'm glad I am able to help from so far away. If there's anything else at all that I can do to make things easier for you, please do not hesitate to let me know. I'm always happy to help you, William. Things are incredibly dull here too, especially without your company in the evenings. Thank you for the gloves. They do fit over my other two, you were right. Your hands must be bigger than mine. ~~It is nice to have a piece of y~~

It certainly does appear that Miller has had an effect on you, Havers. That description must have been as poetic as whatever he keeps locked up in that journal of his. One does begin to wonder what he could possibly be writing.

We are past the darkest day now over here. Winter will drag on for a good few letters more, but every day the sun sets a little later and I am thankful for it. Getting up before the sun rises feels all the worse for your absense. 

And no, I do believe we were quite polite to the rest of the house while drunk. I must say struggling not to fall asleep in my chair is awefully dull without you there to try and keep me awake. I miss those days too. I miss your company too. I miss rather a lot I'm finding. 

You are very welcome. He did look incredibly happy when I gave him the address. I'm glad I could be of some help to you, all the way in Africa. I'm glad you kept in touch. You remain a wonderful Lieutenant.

Yours, 
Captain

Dear Captain,

Just you writing is enough. Thank you. I'm glad my gloves fit. I have absolutely no use for them here, so I'm happy you can use them. It would make sense for my hands to be bigger than yours, I think; I am taller. Perhaps we shall compare when the war is done. 

Thank you, Sir. Looking back on it I believe I did spend too much time with him. However, despite his idiocy he is rather hard not to like. I'm sure you would find his company quite entertaining once you got used to him, although the first few encounters may be rather awkward. He's like that. Indeed, his journal was very well guarded. I do believe I was his closest friend and I never got so much as a peek.

It's hard to track when the sun rises here. I wake up each morning groggier than the last, the fog does not clear from my head until nightfall, and then the cycle continues. It feels as though somehow years and years have passed since I was at Button House with you, although when I close my eyes I remember every detail like I was there only yesterday. I remember the way the windows were on winter mornings, I remember how the smell of the house differed from season to season, I remember every beach along the lake. I do truly believe if I were to die here I would be taken back to a summer's day at Button House as my own personal Heaven.

And yes, I feel the same. How I long for someone to turn to and roll my eyes at when the men here make a foolish joke, or shout too loud in their drunken stupor. Indeed, I find I am missing rather a lot as well. Everything used to be so sharp here, but the fog that clouds my mind seems to have taken the colour out of everything. I miss the cold blue of Button House winter twilights, I miss how it contrasted with the orange glow of your office fireplace. I miss you.
I am glad you kept in touch too. You, of course, remain a wonderful Captain.

Yours,
William

Dear ~~Willia~~   ~~Have~~   William,

Thank you for your last letter. I am so glad I can help, even if only a little bit. And thank you again for the gloves, they truly are helping. And perhaps we shall. I do look forward to our reunion after we’ve shown jerry who’s boss!!

And yes, he does seem rather agreeable once you get over his… Poeticness. In all honesty I’m not sure how he hasn’t become an outcast among the men, but they seem to like him too. Still, I’m not sure how on earth I’d make first contact considering the table he sits at. If I went and sat with them I’d be ridiculed until the next fool does something stupid. And I understand what you mean about years passing. Every corner I turn I expect to find you round it but also when I think back to you being here it seems like something from before the war even started. I’m sorry about your fog. I hope for your sake it gets better. I do worry about you, William. All the way on the front. I’m glad you write, or I would be worrying non-stop all day. I would never get anything done, ha ha! Still, despite the heavy feeling in my stomach, I’m sure everything will work out okay. Victory can’t be far off now, especially with your help on the front! I’m sure you’re pulling more than your weight in scaring the fritz back to where they belong. And yes. An eternal summer’s afternoon at Button House does sound like Heaven, now you mention it. Although it seems foolish to say, considering there is a war on, and all that. ~~We~~ I am only at Button House because of it. Still, if everything has a silver lining, I suppose at least the war meant I met you.

And yes, indeed, I am sorely missing someone else on my intellectual level when the men are around their new Lieutenant. Button House is not the same without you, and I mean that more than one normally does when they say that. It doesn’t seem quite so… Heavenly, I suppose. It just feels like a station in a war. Which of course it is, but. You made it more, somehow. Made it better. To summarise, I miss you too.

Yours,
~~Theod~~ Teddy

Dear Lieutenant,

Apologies for sending another letter without your reply. I’m assuming it is just something that has gone wrong with the postal service, but just in case it was something I did, I wanted to check that I hadn’t said something wrong in my last letter. It’s been so long since you’ve written. Longer still than the gap between your leaving and your first letter. Normally two have arrived by now. Have you been moved? Did my last letter not reach you? I hope it was not something I said. Apologies for the informality in the last letter, you signing your letter as ‘William’ threw me off a little. I assumed, evidently wrongly, that because you are no longer technically my lieutenant and I no longer technically your captain that you had decided it was alright to drop the formalities somewhat. I apologise if I misread that. I cannot take everything I said back. I do still look forward to our reunion. I do still miss you. I do worry. I worry even more than previously since your letters stopped arriving. I do hope you’re okay. Please write back.

Yours,
Captain

Dear Lieutenant,

No letter still. I waited the amount of time it normally takes two letters to arrive again and still nothing. Surely if you had been moved you would have sent me a letter from your new post by now? If you wish to stop corresponding, please just reply and tell me so. I would rather I heard it from you than just kept writing to no one. I truly am sorry if I did anything wrong. I take full responsibility for any discomfort I caused you. I should not have assumed we were dropping formalities based purely on how you signed your letter. That was foolish of me. Please respond.

Yours,
Captain. 

Dear Captain Theodore of Button House,

I regret to inform you that Lieutenant Havers has tragically passed away fighting for his country on the African front. His sacrifice will be remembered and he will be greatly missed. Also in this envelope are the letters you sent him that arrived after he died. Please inform any of your men that should like to know of his passing.

Signed,
Captain Riggs

Chapter Text

The kitchen was warm and empty. Sunlight streamed in through the window, painting the room golden and domestic. It was a bittersweet room, all happiness and warmth until one remembered they could never cook or bake or live here, could never exist as it was built for. Havers was leant against the table, facing the window, eyes closed, letting the morning sun hit his face. The echo of his shadow almost fell across the table.

“William.” A familiar voice called from the doorway. Havers turned, opening his eyes, and smiled.

“Teddy.” He replied, as the Captain came over a leant next to him, resting his head on Havers’ shoulder and his hand on the one Havers was using to hold his weight against the table, interlocking their fingers quietly. Havers kissed the top of his head.

“Are you alright? You looked somewhat melancholy.” The Captain asked.

“I was just thinking about how I’d cook you breakfast if I could.”

The Captain chuckled gently. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.”

“I’m glad you think so, Sir.”

“Still going to call me that?”

“I’m afraid it’s built into me, rather.” They share a smile.

“I suppose that’s best so the others don’t find out.”

Havers hums in reply, resting his head on the Captain’s.

“In any case, I was just on my way to my rounds, if you’d like to accompany me?”

“I’d be delighted.” Havers replied, pulling them apart, and offering his hand. The Captain smiled as he took it, and they headed out into the grounds together.

—---------------------------------------------------

The library was beginning to become somewhat of a favourite spot for them. It was dark and warm and none of the other ghosts ever ventured in there, always content with the books Alison picked out for them and never bothering to choose one themselves. It was a topic the two of them had discussed at length the first time they had wandered in here together, found a corner to curl up in, and had intertwined their fingers. But, of course, they slowly began to realise just how dark it was, and just how little the ghosts ever appeared, conversation became fewer and further between every time they made their way there. Of course, there had been occasions when someone had made a surprise visit, Robin inspecting what he believed to be his land from out of the window, or Alison picking out a new book for someone after they had finished theirs. Once they had even jumped apart for Mike making his way to fix something in the abandoned bathroom on the other side of the wall, before realising he couldn’t see or hear them, and bursting into uncontrollable giggles that still emerged sometimes when Mike entered a room. They were yet to come up with a believable excuse to explain their laughter to the rest of the ghosts. Of course, Alison especially had come incredibly close to discovering them. Luckily, she had stubbed her toe just before rounding the corner, and shouted a “FUCK!” loud enough to wake - or at least alert - the dead so the Captain and Havers could silently walk through opposite walls until they could both be sure Alison had gone. 

—---------------------------------------------------

“You know, I’m glad we can sit on benches. It’s something I’ve been thinking about. I think rather everyone takes it a little for granted.” Havers said. The two of them were sat facing the lake, watching the sun go down while the rest of the ghosts did god knows what - recently the Captain had been beginning to forget what was happening when, although he wasn’t exactly complaining considering what he was missing it for - fingers intertwined. It was something they had begun to do more and more often, like a replacement for their winter walks now they were past winter and it wouldn’t be snowing for a while.

“Hm? Although, I suppose we are ghosts. It shouldn’t be too much to ask for a positive thing among the negative.”

“Oh, Sir. You are too harsh on the outcome you’ve been given. Alison is a big positive, is she not?”

“Yes, I suppose. There are bigger positives I’d place above her, though.” He replied, turning to give Havers a look that said everything, but mainly I love you. A look Havers ignored in favour of a sly grin hidden behind false confusion.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“You are a sentimental fool, Lieutenant.”

Havers chuckled quietly in reply, before kissing the Captain gently on the cheek and resting his head against his shoulder. 

—---------------------------------------------

New Year's Eve had always been a very lonely time for the Captain. First, when he was alive, he hadn't been able to get drunk with the other men, having to remain responsible and in charge while everyone else relaxed. And then, as a ghost, the lonliness got worse. It was beyond just Havers being gone, everything was gone. Or, rather, he was gone, and everything was still existing without him. And he had only had a handfull of ghosts to keep him company, most of whom he barely liked. And then Havers came along. Well, that changed everything, didn't it? Someone to laugh at his complicated jokes, someone there in his peripheral, someone other than Pat who understood the need to be punctual. Someone to kiss on New Year's Eve. The thought of it was making the Captain rather giddy, actually. When he was alive, him and the men had gone into the village for New Year's Eve, spending the celebration dancing round the village hall. He had watched as they all found someone to kiss as the clock struck midnight, and he and Havers had stood at the edge of the room without anyone every time. It had always made the Captain wonder. What it would be like. To hold Havers. To kiss him. In front of everyone, no less. When the time came, he used to try sneaking a glance at him, but Havers was always glancing back, and the eye contact scared him. And now he would know. What it would be like. The butterflies were running rampant in his stomach. At 2358, he tried to ignore them and made his way over. 

"Hello." Havers smiled when he arrived. 

"Hello." The Captain replied. "Nice to be spending New Year's actually with someone, instead of alone in the corner of the village hall." 

"I was just thinking about that." Havers smiled again. "Nice to be spending New Year's with you. Instead of just wishing I was in the corner of the village hall."

The Captain beamed at his feet. "Indeed." 

"Took us long enough." Havers joked. The Captain laughed loudly.

"Only 80 years." 

Havers grinned, and then, distantly, the countdown began to sound from the TV. The rest of the ghosts joined in excitedly. The Captain had meant to turn back around to watch the countdown with the rest of them; he wanted to see the fireworks. But he couldn't take off of Havers, who was smiling adoringly at him. The Captain smiled back.

"10, 9, 8, 7,"

"I love you." He said. 

"I love you too." Havers replied.

"4, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The ghosts around them shouted as they leant in and kissed. 

"Happy new year, Teddy." Havers said against the Captain's mouth.

"Happy new year, William." The Captain replied, pulling Havers back in.

—-------------------------------------------

It was getting very late. Everyone else in the house had long gone to bed, Alison and Mike first and then gradually everyone else, until it was just the Captain and Havers left alone in the living room. The fire had gone out a while ago, and neither of them could relight it, but neither wanted to leave either, so they had just stayed, talking together in the dark. It was something they were getting more and more used to, whispering about nothing and everything in the Captain’s room, disrupting the Captain’s schedule that he had thrown aside without a second thought when Havers had turned up impossibly somehow. But they hadn’t retired there yet. It was as if they were still waiting for something to happen, a signal that their night was over. It had been like this often recently. Silences that did not flow quite like they used to, pauses in conversation where one would cut themselves off and then insist that the other should speak, or that they hadn’t even begun to speak at all. There was a sense of something left unsaid between them, and it reeked of how they were when they were alive. Moments all golden with a tinge of regret-green. The love and admiration that had been flowing between them since the night of the party was different now, cautionary, hesitant. It was tangible now, the silence between them deafening as Havers traced circles into the tips of the Captain’s thumbs.

“Captain?” Havers asked, sounding almost timid.

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore, Will.” The Captain replied softly.

“I know. Sorry, Si- Sorry. I was just wondering if you knew- well, I wanted to say that- just that-” He paused to cough. “Just- I was wondering- or I suppose, making sure you know, that I adore you, Sir. And I have from the moment that we met. I completely and utterly adore you. And- And- yes. Just that. I adore you.”

The Captain was silent for a moment. “You adore me?”

“Fully.”

“I- Oh- I adore you too, William. I suppose I always have as well. I, uh. I believe we're soulmates I suppose.” He chuckled nervously, suddenly thankful neither of them could relight the fire so his face was obscured by the dark.

“Oh! You- you do! I- I believe so as well.

"Well. I’m- yes, I-m uh. Glad we got that sorted.”

“Yes. Indeed. Shall we retire?”

“Yes, yes. I suppose we shall.”

Chapter Text

The library door was closed. It didn’t necessarily stop anyone from entering, as even Alison could simply open it and walk through, but it offered a fake sense of security that not many other rooms did, with its lack of light and maze of bookshelves. The Captain and Havers were pressed up against each other in a dark corner, chuckling quietly between kisses. The disbelief still ran strong through everything they did together after so many years of denial. Every so often, someone wandered past, lost in their own thoughts or making their own noise as the ghosts often were, and the Captain and Havers would draw in pointless breaths to hold and wait until they had left the room, before unfreezing in place. Unfortunately, so focussed on themselves as they were, they had not noticed that the past three interruptions had actually been the same person. 

On his first trip through the library, Julian had noticed the quiet sound of shifting clothes and two sudden breaths and assumed it was Alison and Mike. He knew they didn’t really like the ghosts in their room, and he also knew how much the ghosts wandered in anyway, and so came to the easy conclusion that they had found a secluded corner to do their thing without anyone seeing them. That was, of course, until he remembered Mike was at work and he had passed Alison in the main room just before entering the library. He spent a few moments brainstorming outside the library door, trying to figure out if there was any way Mike might not actually be at work and Alison had somehow slipped past him, but there wasn’t. If not those two, who? Lady Button and Humphrey’s body again, maybe? But Lady Button had shouted at him for one of his jokes only this morning, she was definitely not in the same mood she had been in when that affair was going on. That left only one option. The Captain and Havers had finally got their shit together and started dating. Julian grinned. The fact that they were hiding away in the library meant they definitely didn’t want anyone else to know, and he knew the Captain well enough to know he would find it extremely annoying if everyone did. But he had to be sure. 

On his second trip through the library, he did nothing but count the amount of steps it took him to get from one side to the other. He knew the Captain would have it memorised, as he did with every room and indeed the entire grounds. He had to be prepared for his third go.

On his third trip, he stopped walking half way through the room, and stomped the rest of his steps where he stood, adding a few quiet ones for the corridor to add some realism for his half-baked attempt at infiltrating. Luckily for him, the Captain was horribly out of practise at defensive, and when Julian stopped walking in place, he and Havers let out their breaths.

“Lots of traffic through the library today.” The Captain commented quietly. Julian tried very hard to keep his reactions silent.

“Indeed.” Havers chuckled. Julian fist pumped wildly in triumph, mouth open despite no noise coming out. “Still, no one has noticed us yet.”

The Captain hummed in reply, and then the two of them fell silent. Or, at the very least, stopped talking. A wide grin spread across Julian’s face. He crept forward as quietly as he could, phasing through bookshelves at the rate of a snail, just in case the two of them were behind the one he was going through. At last, he rounded the corner onto the aisle they had deemed secret enough for their rendezvous. Havers had the Captain pressed against the wall, his finger under his chin as they kissed. Julian’s mouth fell open as he shamelessly stood and watched. He was about to make some comment like well, this is all very romantic, when Havers pulled away, opening his eyes to take in the Captain, smiling slightly. The Captain opened his eyes too, and this put Julian in a dangerous position. He brought his clenched fist to his mouth and bit his finger, making a move to slowly back away and out of the room. Unfortunately, the movement caught the attention of the ever-aware Captain, who pushed Havers away hard enough to send him through the bookshelf behind him if he hadn't caught himself. Havers stood to attention out of sheer anxiety while the Captain coughed loudly.

“Julian.” He said, lifting his chin defiantly in the hopes it would hide the rapidly spreading blush. “What brings you to this corner of the library?” He asked, hoping against all hope that he somehow hadn’t seen what it was very obvious he had. His hopes were very quickly dashed.

“You two were kissing !” Julian said, much like a primary school child would.

“Nno,” The Captain started.

“We were -- simply looking for a book.” Havers said.

“Yes, a book. On tanks. Havers has finished what he was reading, so he needs a new one.”

“Looking for it in each other's mouths, were you?” Julian had gone back to grinning. The Captain’s mouth opened and closed as he faltered, trying to find some other excuse.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” Havers said quietly. The Captain looked over at him, and then looked back at Julian, nodding.

“Can he say please?” He pointed to the Captain. The Captain rolled his eyes, but did as Julian asked.

“Please.” Julian’s grin did the impossible, and got wider.

“This is the best day of my death. My lips,” He made a zipping motion across his mouth, “Are sealed.” before turning on his heel and walking out, humming to himself.   

Of course, as all good politicians do, he was lying. Neither the Captain nor Havers had thought to question his integrity until Robin had wiggled his eyebrows at the two of them as they walked past.

“You don’t think-” Havers started.

“Of course he has.” The Captain replied, his stomach sinking. “Of course he bally well has.”

It became somewhat hard to tell who told who from there. The progress of it spreading could be tracked throughout the house; Thomas’ loud exclamation of ‘WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO BE HAPPY’ and Alison’s ‘WHAT? Finally! I mean, no, don’t tell me! It is not my place to know. …But how did you find out?’ and Kitty’s excited squealing, followed by her running into the room they were sat in to point excitedly, squeal, and then run out again. Eventually, their only option was to bring it up at one of the meetings.

“Okay, AOB, yes! I have some.” The Captain said, shooing Pat back into his chair. “As I’m sure you’re all very aware, thanks to our local buffoon, me and Havers are… Are uh… Well, that is to say we are-”

“Banging?” Input Julian.

“No!” The Captain replied, going very red. “We are-” He coughed. “-dating.”

“Whaaat? No way!” Alison said, when it was clear no one else had either the brain power or the decency to realise the polite thing to do here would be to pretend they didn’t know. 

A pause.

“That wasn’t believable at all was it?” She asked.

“Nope.” The Captain responded. “Not at all. Still! Thank you for trying.”

“Congratulations.” Lady Button input, giving the both of them a nod and her tight-lipped smile.

“Yes! Congrats.” Alison smiled, as the rest of the ghosts chimed in.

“Thank you.” The Captain replied. “Dismissed.” He concluded, escaping through the nearest wall, desperate to be literally anywhere else while the ghosts discussed his dating life. Havers found him a moment later.

“That… Could have gone worse.” He said.

“Yes, I suppose it could have.”

“And maybe it’ll be better now we can be open about it?”

“Or alternatively it could be worse.” The Captain replied.

“Theodore.”

“William.” The Captain smiled. Havers’ name still tasted sweet in his mouth.

“I am tired of hiding my love for you. I’ve been doing it for 80 years. Just because we both know we could do it for another 80 doesn’t mean we should. We deserve a love in the light, not one hidden in the corner of a library.”

“...Yes. Yes, you’re right. Thank you, Havers. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sir.”

Chapter Text

“Alison! Alison, Alison, oh, Alison Alison Ali-”

“What?” Alison asked, stepping aside so Kitty didn’t run into her.

“Is there going to be another wedding?” Kitty squealed, flapping her hands. In the corner of the room, the Captain’s head jerked up from where he had been reading a book on battle tactics.

“What? No? No, where’d you get that idea from?”

“The marquee!”

“The what?”

“There’s a marquee folded up in the garage! It’s not the one from the wedding, I remember it, this one’s different!”

“Ooooh. Yeah, I remember. We bought that one for summer weddings, if there were any.”

“Oh. So.. Can we have a summer wedding?”

“No, Kitty, we can’t just have another wedding. We’d need people to get married, silly.”

“Aw. Okayyy.” She replies, hanging her head and turning to leave the room back in the direction she had come from, but the Captain stopped her. 

“Well, Kitty, wait, what if… Well, what if me and Havers got married?” He asked, looking in Havers' direction, who was staring back bright red. “Would you-” He stopped, directing his questions at Havers now. “I mean would that-” He tried again, despite the fact that Havers was already nodding vigorously.

“Yes. Absolutely, yes. Yes please. Can we do that? Even though we’re dead?”

“Well it wouldn’t be official.” Alison put in. “But there’s nothing actually stopping us from holding a wedding for you guys.”

The Captain looked between Alison and Havers a few times, before tightly taking Havers' hand. “Let’s-” He started, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Let’s get married then.”

The wedding preparations began almost immediately. There was no point delaying them. It was high summer and the flowers in the garden were almost at their prettiest, the sky was blue every day without fail and the lake echoed what it had been when the Captain and Havers were alive. The ever-present ache in Havers' bullet wound, immortalised in his corporeal form, had dulled significantly with the wedding on the horizon, and the strange weight the Captain always felt in his stomach was masked by almost constant butterflies, tingling excitement he struggled to contain, especially when helping Alison plan. Every single decision was entirely up to him and Havers, and all the ideas and dreams that had been drifting around in the back of his mind since he were alive were coming true, and arriving one by one in boxes that he got to watch Mike cut open. Everything he’d been trying not to think about for nearly a century was sitting on bookshelves or tables, ready to be set up or moved to the garden or plugged into the wall. Outside sockets had been checked and fixed up with the help of youtube videos, and Alison and Mike had done their best to put up what was probably one of the most complicated marquees in the history of marquees with just the two of them being actually able to touch it and all of the ghosts stood round shouting different instructions at them unhelpfully. With no need to buy food or get rings and all of the old wedding stuff still sitting in the basement, everything was ready in just under a week. 

It was a quiet Sunday morning when the distant church bells rang, signalling the start of the wedding. They stood at opposite ends of the aisle, waiting for the sound to finish, before Humphrey, head balanced on body, began accompanying Havers down it. The ghosts had somehow settled on applauding being the least weird thing to do, and they made enough noise for a whole congregation as Havers made his way towards the Captain. 

“Please tell me you have your own vows to say or something; I could freestyle the official ones but I don't think I'd get them right.” Alison joked. The Captain nodded, chuckling slightly. 

“Yes, we do. Don’t worry.” He coughed, turning to Havers. It still felt weird to be able to look him in the eyes and say I love you. It still felt unreal. And now he got to summarise everything about how he felt about Havers to his face. In front of people he had been terrified might figure out his secret. And yet weirdly he had never felt more safe. “When you first die, assuming you become a ghost, the first few months feel a little bit off. Everything is the same, you wake up, you get out of bed, you go about your day doing much the same things you would have done if you were alive, and then you go to sleep at the end of it again. But also, everything feels different. Something has shifted. The ground beneath you is a little less solid, you can phase through walls, all the people you once would have been able to stop in the corridor and speak to can no longer see or hear you, are mourning you in fact. The world changes colour a little bit, like seeing through a filter. You live in your own denial. The months after confessing my love for you have been much the same. I do all the things I have always done, but something has shifted. Whatever filter my death put over my eyes has been removed. The world is in colour again. The ground is solid beneath my feet. But unlike death, it appears that disbelief has been lodged permanently in my heart. And I look forward to feeling this strange good-denial for the rest of forever.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Havers said quietly, smiling, before raising his voice so the rest of the ghosts could hear. “I know what you mean about the filter. Before meeting you, the world was in colour, of course, but it always felt like there was something missing. Like there was some higher state of being that I couldn’t get to somehow, like I was always reaching for something my fingers were too stubborn to graze. Now, everything is in colour. I have never seen the sky so blue, the grass so green. The lake has never shimmered more, and I swear the birds sing sweeter with every passing moment I spend with you. Everything is heightened, and I will be eternally grateful to you for showing me this beautiful world that you carry around with you along with my heart. Now, when I look at you, my saturation is turned up. Now, when I hold you, I am holding the world in my hands. Now, when I am with you, everything falls into place. When I was haunting Africa, I thought I had been sent to Hell. Now I realise it was simply a Purgatory I had to go through before being allowed an eternity in Heaven with you.”

“Aw.” Alison commented, before remembering she actually had a job to do. “Do you, Lieutenant William Havers, take Captain Theodore of Button House, to be your unlawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Captain Theodore of Button House, take Lieutenant William Havers, to be your unlawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“I now pronounce you guys married. You may kiss the ghost.”

The party started approximately three minutes afterwards. The chairs were moved quicker than humanly possible somehow, and Pat was creeping over to Mike as the DJ before anyone had even started saying I do. The music was loud and, for the first time ever, every single person at the party was happy. The Captain and Havers did not sneak away to kiss, or say I love you quietly, or refrain from dancing together or holding hands. They existed in broad daylight, in front of everyone, truly unafraid for the first time in their lives and deaths. There was no better feeling. At one point, Havers almost told the Captain he wished things could be like this forever, before remembering they could, because they were safe now, and happy, and married, and no harm could ever befall them again. Yes, their whole world was now only as big as the Button House grounds, but neither had ever wanted anything more than each other. Contentedness lay in the gaps between their fingers, in their open mouths, in the way their bodies leant towards each other instinctively. Eternity stretched out ahead of them like a golden, sunlight path they could not see the end of but knew would keep going, and the world felt as solid as it possibly could. They only abandoned the celebrations for half an hour while a sun went down, as Alison dragged them away to show them the plaque Mike thought would be a good idea to be placed upon their favourite bench by the lake, and quickly disappearing again back to the party to give them some space.  

Their bench was warm from the evening sun, the plaque with their names on flashing golden in the sinking light. Havers shifted into the Captain, resting his head on his shoulder. The Captain moved his arm around Havers’ waist, and leant his head on Havers’, letting out a sigh of complete contentedness as they watched the sun dip down over the lake together. The 75 years between their life and their reunion were fading away, melting like the last snowfall of winter to the first sunrise of spring. A lifetime apart. Such a small price to pay for an eternity together. All that time spent hiding in their personal hells was worth it for a forever of love, of happiness, of bliss. For the rest of time, the story will be told, of the two ghosts who haunt the bench by Button House Lake. Of two lost lovers, reunited in death. Of two brave soldiers, who died for their love. Of two silhouettes, seen only in the evening light of spring. Two shadows, leant together to be one.