Chapter Text
3rd March 1923
Robin was bored. B, O, R, D; Bored.
There was nothing going on that day in Button House. Sometimes Robin liked the big fancy house that had been built on his land in recent centuries, but when there was nothing going on in it, well, it was just a big stupid fancy house, wasn’t it? Half the reason he stayed in with the humans was because they still had lives to live, but when they weren't doing anything particularly fun what was the point?
There was no party happening, no high-tea or orchestral performance. Big Button was in his study, likely complaining about the servants, who were all dutifully doing their work, which was interesting to watch at first but lost its spark after the first thousand times. Lady Button - not Fanny, the new one - was in the garden, simpering over the flowers even though she was nowhere near them, protected from the outdoors by rugs and parasols. Middle Button and his Lady Button were off somewhere out of the grounds, so they couldn’t be followed, and they had taken Baby Button with them.
The other ghosts were all being boring, too. Thomas was brooding upstairs as he always did, and Fanny was drifting about like a waif commenting on all the things the servants were doing wrong and all the things her family was doing right in the same breath. He had no idea where either part of Humphrey was, and Mary and Kitty in the servants quarters gossiping.
But Robin had nothing to do, and was so bored he honestly thought he might die all over again.
He sat on the stairs for a while, watching the various members of the household bustle by, but none of them were doing anything interesting. He spent half an hour looking for Humphrey’s head, hoping the man could provide some conversation, but didn’t find him. In doing so though, he did happen to glance out of the window and spot the Tudor’s other half, wandering about the gardens. Seeing Humphrey wobble over the grass and into a tree (which he then proceeded to get stuck in) gave Robin an idea.
He could go and see Arty.
Arty was, according to Fanny, a ‘groundskeeper’. Not the one who had put his dick in her husband - no, that had been a different one.
This one was a nice man, Robin thought. He had no idea Robin existed, of course, but then again only about forty people did and they were all dead too. It didn’t matter to Robin, Arty didn't have to know about Robin for Robin to like him.
Groundskeepers were people that 'kept' the grounds - hence the name. They made the grounds look nice and stuff, cutting the grass and planting nice flowers. Personally, Robin thought it all looked nicer left on its own, but he did admit that what Arty did was very nice and the plants he put places were very pretty.
Robin liked Arty for a lot of reasons. He was funny, he did good work, and he was very kind. He was also nice to animals, which a lot of the people here weren't. Ladies screamed at bugs and squished them under their heels or with heavy books. The owners of the house had poison put out for rats and mice to kill them. Men hunted animals and killed them, not because they needed to, for food or furs, or to make weapons or shelter, but because they thought it was fun. Robin had seen many an animal left bleeding and and in great pain because of an untalented hunter, unlikely to survive the night.
But Arty picked up bugs and put them outside where they belonged, even spiders. Arty did put the poison out for the rats and mice but only because he was told off by the Buttons if he didn't, and he visibly hated doing it and apologised to the rats and mice as he put it down, and caught as many as he could in non-lethal traps to release them into the forest. He didn't hunt either, and helped any animal he came across - even if that meant putting them out of their misery. He even buried them after.
No, Arty was very nice indeed. He often talked to animals that he found and as such, the animals often came up to him if there was no-one else about. Robin, to animals, still counted as people even as a ghost, but as long as he was nice and quiet most of them still stuck around if he showed up and he could listen to Arty talk to them.
He checked the servants quarters first, just in case. Arty had stopped spending time there when he started getting better again, so Robin wasn't really surprised to find his room empty.
Arty spent most of his time in the shed anyway, because that's where all of his tools and work stuff was, so that's where Robin went next, phasing out the wall and trotting happily into the grounds to his friend.
The shed was located in the thicker woods behind the house, north-west-ish by the caveman’s reckoning, hidden well behind the tree line. It couldn’t be seen from the house, which the owners liked because it was ‘ugly’ and an ‘eyesore’, and they wanted it out of sight for when they entertained guests on the main lawn or in the garden. That was stupid to Ronin, why hide something useful because it wasn’t pretty? Could sheds even be pretty? And where did these guests think Button House kept its tools and garden stuff? Surely they had their own sheds at home. They shouldn't be so surprised to see one here, too.
Robin didn’t understand these modern posh people.
Arty wasn't by the shed when Robin got there. It was still early, so Robin wondered if he was still asleep. There was a little cot bed along one wall and Robin had seen him asleep on there lots of times. Some years Robin thought he’d slept in it more than his bed in the servants quarters. Robin thought that if he was still alive, he'd prefer the shed bed too. It seemed more outdoorsy, closer to the woods and the stars and animals.
The groundskeeper himself had started sleeping in the shed a lot more recently, even though it was still quite cold. (Well, Robin thought so anyway. It was hard to tell, being a ghost.) Being ill made Arty more tired, it seemed. He had slept a lot over winter, recovering, and Robin hoped that since he was back at work now he was alright again. It had been very close, for a while. But Arty was still tireder than he had been and he overslept sometimes, when he didn't have the hustle and bustle of the house to make sure he woke up on time, so maybe he was still in bed.
He was about to stick his head through the shed wall to see when he heard Arty's voice.
"At least you guys can still see me. It's incredibly odd, but I don't think I'm in any state to complain right now."
Robin crept around the side of the shed, hesitant incase he spooked any animals. Arty always got sad when they ran away.
There was a deer, a young one, barely put of foalhood, stood in the longer grass. Arty was sat on the ground, holding a hand up to its face. It was very cautiously being sniffed at, until-
The deer looked up, Arty looking with it.
Damn. Deer were so sensitive, they always noticed him even when he was really really careful. You were near silent when you were dead, unable to snap twigs or rustle leaves and yet they still caught you.
"Don't run," Robin told it, "you ruin his fun."
Arty looked around for a moment, checking behind and to either side of himself before frowning and side-eying the deer. "Now who the devil does he think he's talking to?" He asked it.
Someone was talking?
Robin looked behind him but there was no-one there, as expected. None of the other livings came around this part of the woods. Then he remembered that this was Arty, he was probably talking about a bird. There were lots of noisy birds about.
"He looks rather insane," Arty continued, still looking Robin's way. "I wonder if they've hired some kind of children's entertainer for Heather, or perhaps a historical talk. Reggie was looking at funding the local museum, but I'd assumed that was all talk. He wouldn't give money away if his life depended on it." He grimaced. "Let's not even joke about that. Last thing I need is him dying and turning up here too."
He reached out and a hand slowly and the deer sniffed it, snuffling in the sweet way deer did.
"Probably shouldn't complain about how he looks," he told the deer. "He's likely lost, the grounds are quite big, but I'll take what I can get." He stood up, starting to dust his pants off, but then grimacing and abandoning the gesture. "I don't care who he is or why he's here, if he can alert someone to my body then I can finally have my shed back."
That… that was a very odd thing to say.
Robin frowned and looked at the shed.
"But shed still there?" He said to himself. What was Arty on about.
He turned back to see if Arty would say anything else, only to find the groundskeeper seemingly frozen in place, staring at him with wide green eyes. "Did… did you just hear me?"
"Uh, yeah, me always hear you. Flea in ear just annoying, don't make me deaf." Robin stuck his finger in his ear and dislodged the flea, wiping it onto his boot. It would return to his ear at some point later so it was a bit of a moot gesture but he liked to give it a bit of wandering time every now and then, when he was reminded about it. Then he stopped. Frowned.
"Wait, you hear me?"
"Of course I can hear you!" Arty said. "I can hear everyone, it's them who can't hear me! Can you see me, too?”
He gave a little wave, and Robin grinned. "Course me see you!" He said. "You see me?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Robin lit up, jumping up and down and whooping with joy. Arty could see him! Arty could see and hear him and he could finally talk to his friend after all… this… time.
Abruptly, Robin stopped cheering. He looked at the groundskeeper, who looked back at him, with eye contact and everything.
"Oh." Robin said quietly.