Chapter Text
Some things never change in Button House. That being, the constant arguing and bickering that ensued over every slightest inconvenience or disagreement. They’d been together so long it was like a moderately dysfunctional family if anything, but it was still a roadblock for Alison. It was difficult to do just about everything with people yelling right next to you, especially when nobody else was experiencing it. Mike was sympathetic but that’s really all he could be, there was no way he could interact with them in a way that would cease the conflict.
Alison had ran out of ideas to ease the tension in the house, until she found something online.
It was a therapy exercise. Whenever someone had a worry or concern, they would place it on a butterfly proportionate to the size of their worry about it. They could colour it however they wanted, and after all of that, they would sit down and go through every worry individually. That would be much harder with nine people who were volatile at best, but Alison figured Captain could help her with keeping the peace. Perhaps Julian if things got too messy. It would allow them to lay out their worries equally and discuss whatever dislike they have for one another freely.
In other words, it may start a fight or two, but Alison figured they’d try to be civil for her sake.
When she pitched this idea to the Captain, he furrowed his eyebrows so much the corners of his eyes wrinkled. He had that line that creased his brow. Sometimes she forgot he made it into the later years, but the light making the silver in his hair more visibly reminded her. She wondered, briefly, if there was a picture of him where he was younger, or if he was ever young at all. He seemed like the type to have matured quicker than other children.
Then his expression softened, like he was considering the idea, and bounced on his heels, clicking them together. His knees creaked. Alison wondered if that had been, or was, painful. She’d have to ask him some other time. “Don’t you think that may be a bit trying, considering it may bring up some unsavoury opinions?” He asked, noticeably more thoughtful as of late. He’d had lots of time to reflect. “You needn’t bother with more stress, it distracts from defeating the enemy.”
“Working out the money problem” She raising her eyebrows. “Right.” He replies. She sighs, knowing he had a fair point, yet not wanting to entirely give up on the endeavour. “It might be more stressful, but it would work out the issues that are already present,” Alison gestured outside to where Thomas and Julian are up in each other’s faces while Pat shakes his head, like a father with two petulant children.”I want things to be more…relaxed.” Captain nods. “And how do you suppose we get these feelings on paper? You’d be positively swarmed.”
“Pat can get everyone together and we’ll go from there, I just need you to keep everyone’s attention,” Alison smoothes a hand through her hair, her head already beginning to ache. “Please, Captain.”
His shoulders slump ever so slightly, similar to when Kitty cries, and the corner of his lip quirks into a smile. “Of course, it would be my pleasure to keep the troops in order for you.” She exhaled in relief, returning his smile. “Thank you, Cap, I swear, it won’t be a waste-“
“Alison, if it isn’t too early to make a suggestion for one of these papillons en papier..”
“Yes?”
“Ah, never mind.” Before she can further question him, the Captain marches away.
***
“So I thought you could get everyone together this evening.” Alison concluded, crossing her arms casually, mirroring Pat’s stance. He glanced at the Captain, looking for any form of reaction. “I believe it is a exemplary idea” Captain held his swagger stick under his arm, gripping it between his fingers and clicking his heels at the end of his sentence. Pat seemed swayed by that. He smiled widely, his eyes twinkling with excitement. That was promising. “That’s sounds great, Alison, bit of time to clear the air and such,” he glanced at the Captain again. “I bet Kitty will be ecstatic.”
“Speaking of, I think I might go for a little unscheduled lie in the sun with Katherine, I’ll be off.” Captain marched away again, stretching his hand absentmindedly. Alison watches him leave, chuckling at the way Captain tries to skip afterwards. She turns to Pat, who’s eyes linger on Captain for a moment. “I think he’s really coming around to self expression, don’t you?” She asked, a knowing look on her face. Pat doesn’t notice but responds “Yes, I’m quite impressed, really, he used to not even like people calling him nicknames,” Pat fidgets with his fingers “now he wants to write his worries out, it’s all very shocking, actually.”
“He used to not like nicknames?” Alison questioned, she’d never known that he had been that opposed to friendships. Pat hummed in response “Yep, I called him Cap and he looked like I had just spilt his tea pot.”
“What made him come around from that?” Pat starred off into the distance, blinking slowly “I’m not too sure, really.”
***
Button House
January 17th, 1985
It was just a few short months after Pat’s passing. He was still grieving, more so for his wife and child rather than his own life. He couldn’t believe that after all this time he’d left Daley fatherless. He felt absolutely horrible. What’s worse was the strange company he ended up with. When he stepped onto the ground of Button House, he’d scantly recalled Heather mentioning the ghosts that haunted the place. He had never been to enthused with the paranormal, but the last thing he was gonna do is disagree with her.
His scouts had been so excited. Carol had just called him to say she wanted to talk. Daley was about to be in a play. Now that was all gone.
It was replaced with being verbally berated by a sixty year old dead woman leaning over him like she was above him. He felt like a school boy being caught by the mean old math teacher. That coupled with his poor scouts crying being overcome with sirens, to say his first day as a ghost was hectic would not even begin to describe it. He was caught up in worrying about his wife that he barely noticed the tall, broad shouldered Captain staring at him curiously.
They finally got an introduction some time later, when Lady Button had calmed down. Nobody else wanted to show Pat to a room, and Captain looked he wanted to get away anyway. Pat couldn’t blame him. Regardless of their shared relief, Pat was still a little afraid of the looming Captain. That and Lady Button who seemed ready to blow at any moment after the noise the scouts had made the night before. There was no order to all of them, they separated randomly and rarely interacted for positive reasons.
“Hello, welcome to Button House, I will lead to your room.” Captain clicked his heels and started walking. Pat had to jog to keep up. He’d soon learn to take wider steps. “I’m Patrick Butcher, Pat’s fine though, nice to meet you!” He wanted to shake his hand but Captain seemed a million miles away. He replied some time later. “I am the Captain.” He replies bluntly. Pat tried to make the most of it, but something told him it would be a lot harder than he wanted it to be.
Pat nearly jumped out of his own skin when they walked past a decapitated head, which he would learn was Humphrey, and Captain nodded in the man’s direction. Then he nearly had a heart attack being jumped scared by the caveman that seemed to be hidden inside the walls. By the time Pat had walked a decent chunk through the house he was completely scared out of his wits. Then he was a little irritated when a man named Thomas started making a poem about Pat’s ‘shockingly humorous’ death. Talk about insensitive.
They reached the room, dimly lit, and Captain pointed to it with his swagger stick. Pat stepped into the doorway, feeling hopeful, and gave Captain a sincere grin. He received the ghost of a smile that quickly disappeared as quickly as it appeared. He looked out over the room, ridden with dust and decay and nothing like his cozy room at home. The only thing he liked about it was the fact that walls were slightly brown. He would’ve preferred beige but that’s something he couldn’t really control. Still, it was better than nothing. He wondered how many ghosts slept in the rain.
“Thanks, Cap” He was still hoping that maybe he could make at least on friend in death. “I am the Captain.” He replied firmly. All that was gone in a matter of seconds.
Now he was stuck. And no matter how many months had passed, nothing changed. Mulling over that first meeting and first day did nothing to soothe his worries. The best he could do was comfort himself in the thought that someone was mourning them. Then he felt awful for ever being grateful for such a thing. Then it went back around in a loop.