Chapter Text
Family wasn’t something that Alison got to experience in the conventional sense. She didn’t have a huge one when she was younger, she was one of those kids who had to sidestep a conversation with another on Father’s Day. She held no particular anger towards him, she couldn’t change the fact he died and she hoped, at least, that if he had been around he would have supported her unconditionally. She had to hold onto that idea, because the concept of having her parents around yet still being unhappy gave her more questions than answers. She had no clue about his extended relations at all, she didn’t even know his name until she was in her teens.
With her mother’s family were all long gone, and her father’s entirely unknown, Alison had reconciled with herself. She was never going to have the kind of family other people did, she was never going to have the kind of relationships she needed at some points of her life. Mike’s family was a welcomed emotional whiplash. They were open and loving and everything Alison and her mother struggled to be. They treated her like their own almost instantaneously, when sometimes Alison didn’t even feel like her mother’s. She felt selfish thinking that way considering how much her mother worked to make her happy even at her worst of times, but it had always been difficult to maintain their bond.
When she died, Alison felt a hole in her heart. It wasn’t completely the loss that was all-consuming, it was the fact that now there was no chance of making amends. They’d really never have a connection. All those picture perfect bonds that she saw her few friends have, all the arguments that were resolved almost immediately. All the second chances they got to have made Alison irrevocably jealous, and she was more melancholic about that then losing her. It was different with her father, she had nothing to actually miss, just a picture and some stories from her mother.
They weren’t exciting by any means, mostly her father going out of his way for people in small actions that would be considered humble, but how could she appreciate his good nature when she never got to experience it? Thinking about him made her feel equally selfish. She felt selfish being disappointed about a relationship she didn’t even know would benefit her. She wondered if there was a heaven, had he reached it? Or was he walking the earth just as her fellow Button House inhabitants? It was in the back of her mind whenever she went somewhere nearby where she used to live.
Alison clung to a picture of him holding her, more so to have a nice image of someone in her blood-related family loving her. Inheriting Button House reminded her that some of the best kind of family weren’t necessarily by blood. The ghosts gave her a new appreciation for familial bonds, because of this, it slipped her mind rather quickly that her and Fanny did technically have relations she never asked about. Fanny seemed up to rant about anything and everything, so one day when Alison’s interest piqued, she asked. Fanny seemed surprised that Alison would actually come to her to ask about something.
“You see, Alison, our family imported tea, there’s a rather scandalous story in relation to that-“ Fanny began, words moving a million miles a minute. Alison knew she had to be patient, and also try not to get Fanny caught up in a tangent. “I was more asking about the family members themselves, Fanny”
“Like Heather? She was an angry woman” Julian chimed in from across the room, perched up in a chair and still recovering from his afternoon nap. Fanny scowled in his direction. Pat was sitting in the seat across from Julian, placing his finger on his lip and looking intently at the other man. Julian rolled his eyes. “She was quite friendly actually, just wasn’t fond of the scouts yelling, guess she didn’t like kids.”
“Understandably so,” Fanny huffed exasperatedly “they made constant noise, day and night.” Pat placed a hand on his heart almost melodramatically, he’d spent far too much time talking to Thomas. “My scouts- they were young, Lady B! They were supposed to be excited!” Even Julian had to gesture to tell Pat to tone it down. Fanny gave him one of her infamous scorned looks, like the Captain did when someone left midway through his war stories. Alison ran a hand through her hair and sighed tiredly.
Pat opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but Julian interrupted him. “What would you know about kids, Fanny?” He asked. Alison shushed all of them with a groan, pinching the bridge of her nose “You know what? Forget I asked” She was prepared to dismiss it just to avoid pointless arguing. Every time they brought up something from life it left them open to some contestable conflict they somehow hadn’t resolved in the decades they’d known each other. I know plenty, Julian, my Stephen was one of the most well-mannered and presentable men of the last two centuries” Fanny remarked, her nose up in the air indignantly.
Alison scrunched up her nose in confusion, turning her head towards Fanny. “Stephen?” Just as she said his name, Thomas had sauntered into the room, probably looking for a window to sit on. He stopped in his tracts, tilted his head like he was reminiscing, and hummed thoughtfully. “He was a nice fellow, read the finest poetry, anyone who dislikes Byron is decent to me” He nodded to himself. Fanny went uncharacteristically quiet, while Pat and Julian both looked quizzically at Thomas. They hadn’t heard of him either. That only made Alison more curious.
Fanny’s cold look faltered for a moment, noticing the stares she was getting from Alison and the other ghosts. She looked conflicted, slightly dejected and overall a little broken. Thomas was blissfully unaware of the tension, sitting on Pat’s armrest and waiting for one of them to speak. He seemed to look only half-interested in what they were talking about. Alison glanced at Fanny, who eyes had hyper-focused on the ground. Alison would’ve changed the subject if she didn’t think this could be a breakthrough for the both of them. Fanny opened her mouth slowly, cautiously, and heaved a sigh.
“Stephen is- was my eldest son,” Fanny blinked a couple times, like she was trying to hold back tears “he fought in the Great War.” Alison bit the inside of her cheek as Pat had a similar worried look. Julian seemed to be trying to distract himself, and Thomas was just proud he’d gotten it right. Just as they were all about to change the subject, Captain came rushing through a wall. “The war?” He asked a little too loudly, looking utterly exhilarated. It couldn’t have been a worse time for him to be excited. However, Fanny looked oddly comforted by it. “Yes, the first one, I’m sure you were there, Captain”
“Indeed, I was young” He said wistfully. “Stephen was in his mid thirties, I believe.”
She touched her necklace fondly, holding it between her fingers and letting the cold metal press into her skin. She composed herself, both her and Captain cleared their throats almost simultaneously. “He would’ve found Michael quite amusing” Fanny commented, the corner of mouth quirking into a small, sad smile. Alison tried to smile back, but it felt wrong to brush the topic aside now. Julian would’ve dozed off by now, but he and Pat were much too enthralled in this tiny melodrama now. Captain had his own way of comforting that was strangely compatible with Fanny’s.
He walked up beside her, both backs to straight they could break. He looked her in the eyes for a millisecond “Quite remarkable, Fanny, his sacrifice will be remembered” He offered as some solace, which made her smile a little more real. “He did look very poised in his uniform” Thomas added. Alison crossed her arms casually. “He sounds like his mother’s son,” She said “I wish I could’ve met him.” Something about that made Fanny’s entire face upturn, like she’d been told she looked forty years younger. “Oh, Alison, he used to start the most riveting conversations, he was cultured, he could read a whole book in a couple hours-“ She cut herself off with a chuckle Alison had never heard in her life. Even Captain looked a little surprised at it.
The conversation changed at some point, usually around the time Julian heard Thomas mumbling a stanza and decided to comment on its wording. Captain went off for his patrol and Pat went with him. Fanny sat down in Pat’s seat and gazed off into the distance, Alison wished she could hear what she was thinking. Even when they drifted away from talking about Stephen, he lingered on both Alison and Fanny’s minds. Was he ghost still walking the ground he died on? Had he passed on? Had he ever tried to come back? All these thoughts followed Fanny late into the night.
She was restless, irritatingly so. When everyone finally retired for the night, including Julian and Thomas who were usually night owls, Fanny was wide awake. There were many times she struggled to sleep and found Thomas lounging on a window, sometimes she could hear him sobbing in another room. It wasn’t an act of dramatics, she knew this because he wasn’t doing it in front of anyone. In fact, he tried to muffle himself with his sleeve. Fanny couldn’t articulate the words to comfort him, so she made herself known and he quickly cleaned up his act. They played chess some nights.
Julian was usually up because of a different kind of restlessness that carried over from life. That’s why he was often found napping during the day, he was making up for lost time. Fanny made herself scarce when she became aware of his late night business. But now she was alone, and for once she kind of wanted to hear Mike’s obnoxious music. It would drown out her thoughts, that much was certain. She half expected to catch Stephen up late reading The Picture of Dorian Gray behind George’s back. Back then Fanny had her own prejudices but bit her tongue purely to encourage going against George. Now she would love to sit down with him and actually talk about it.
Fanny lingered in the library, burning a hole with her eyes into the place he used to sit. The books were so colourless now, either from the dimness of the room or from years of being worn by Stephen’s hand. Age ruined everything, it took away what a painting or a picture immortalised, a part of yourself that seemed to detach the minute it became material. But it wasn’t just one moment preserved, it was a series of moments all encapsulated in a image that would haunt you at best and mock you at worst. Fanny couldn’t look at her own portrait sometimes, knowing that girl was buried so far down you’d think she wasn’t there at all.
She had more haunting concerns than vanity or ageing with grace. She couldn’t change her appearance. That didn’t change the gap in her heart where her son used to be. She didn’t just miss the idea of a bond that for once turned out positive, she missed him. Fanny missed his mind, his intellect she only took a little credit for, his smile. She missed all her children, of course, but there had never been anything quite so special in her life like Stephen. He was what she had prayed for when alone and terrified of being trapped in a miserable life. Fanny looked up at the moon Robin loved ever so much. And then to the stars.
She hadn’t done it since her wedding night, when she was desperate and pitifully hopeful. Fanny closed her eyes, clenching them so tight her eyebrow creased. She tilted her head upward, not to look down on someone, but to catch a glimpse of her saving grace. “I wish my son was with me,” she entwined her own fingers tightly, her knuckles going white “just for a few days, for a moment.” Suddenly the feeling of silliness swept over her and she pulled herself from the stars trance. Dusting off the imaginary mess, Fanny finally had the exhaustion to go to sleep. But it was a tormented sleep.
The sudden change of morning routine made up for her troubled sleep. Fanny was completely flabbergasted to find that she didn’t fall out of the window like usual, but woke up in her own bed. Pulling herself out of bed slowly, she waited for her mind to be taken over. Maybe they’d changed the clocks again and had not told her, and now she had to worry about the actual time that was set. But judging by Captain’s look, that wasn’t the case.
She was perplexed, and Captain came into her room looking equally confused. They exchanged looks but no words were spoken, neither of them were up to conversation in the mornings anyway, though Fanny didn’t have an excuse anymore. They linked arms more for safety than comfort, even though nothing could technically hurt them anyways. It was still a thought you had in the back of your head, even in death. Thomas was awake too, though he apparently didn’t notice Fanny hadn’t fallen out of the window. His dainty arms were sprawled out along the couch, staring longingly at the cover of some book Alison had taken from the library. The library.
Something was wrong, something was definitely off. The sudden change had to have some cause, and judging by the way Fanny felt beckoned to the library, she was about to find out. The familiar flipping of pages made Fanny’s heart stop for a moment. She couldn’t quite recall what made the sound so familiar, or why it made her feel so anxious all of a sudden. Captain trailed behind her, having judged there was a problem and swiftly became guarded. He stepped cautiously beside her, scoping out what was the source of the noise. When Fanny finally breached the doorway. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There, dressed in his uniform which was stained from a clumsily bandaged bullet wound, with his messy dark curly hair, was Stephen.
“Oh, hey mum”