Ghosts One Shots

Captain : Hidden Beneath (pt 3)

"So," Pat began, dragging out the 'o' until it became two separate syllables, "Today, The Captain was going to give us a speech on his death. Obviously a lot of you were here to see it, but not everyone was and, of course, its very important to share feelings instead of, y'know, letting it fester."

The Captain was staring at Pat when he said that. He froze in place, his chest tight, breathing hard to grasp. He could barely feel the swagger stick resting in his hands on his legs. The beating of his heart – well, not really beating, considering he was dead – appeared to thud and pulse in his ears and brain. He saw what he was looking at, probably, but it didn't register. He was stuck in his brain, and his heart, and his chest, the outside all caving in on him, pressurising him until he shattered.

"...captain? Captain? Cap?"

Pat's voice just about became audible, and Pat tried to touch the Captain's shoulder comfortingly, but instead of accepting it, The Captain jerked away from it, breathing worsening. He couldn't have the touch right now. He couldn't. It felt... wrong. He had to be an island, he couldn't be touched, couldn't have the pressure caving in.

A couple of the ghosts mumbled in the background. Just two. Then three. Then four. The fire was crackling and the wind howled outside, making the windows and the wood creak. The radio or the television was on somewhere, and there was a tapping sound he wasn't sure the perpetrator of but whatever it was it layered up with all the other noise until it surrounded him and...

The gunshots again. Fired from enemy guns. Another one dead.

No, he wasn't in the war right now. He was here...

"I can't," he said shortly, curtly, and stood to walk outside.

He walked around the land briskly. He had to. The rhythm of his footsteps had to outweigh the rhythm of the gunfire.

He was a Captain, for god's sake. He was the Captain. He didn't even need a name, because he could be better than most people, right? He could lead, he could plan, he couldn't care less about the casualties as long as they meant less in the long run. Collateral damage, wasn't it? No emotion needed. You couldn't crumble under pressure. You had to be strong. So what was this now? What was he doing?

"Captain!" A voice shouted across the sharp, thin night air. Julian.

The Captain tried to stop and acknowledge him, but he had to keep walking. Counting the trees to his footsteps. Matching his footsteps to his heartbeats. Letting the cold air into his soul.

Julian eventually caught up with him. "You alright, mate? Are you still worried about telling them about you and the Lieutenant-"

"No, Julian," he said, stopping abruptly. "I'm... I don't want to share anything. I've kept all this for so long... I think it's better this way."

"Remember what Pat said about things festering?" Julian asked, moving his hands a lot. "This is it festering. You have to just get over that feeling and let it out."

"I can't, I'm afraid, Julian. My brain just... doesn't work like that. I'm sorry. It's impossible being that vulnerable with them. I'd rather just leave it alone, as it is." He sighed.

Julian rolled his eyes, his head tilting with them. "Look, we're all dead, who are we telling? You're not in the war anymore, Cap."

"It's who I am though. Isn't it? I mean, who else do you think I'd be? I was brought up in that world, I died my mind still in it. We all stay as we died – this is how I died. I lived, and breathed, in a time cloaked in rules and standards and formalities. I make others follow them, but in truth, I envy those able to be themselves – to a certain extent, of course."

Julian's hands fell to his side as he accepted what the Captain was saying.

"I'll always be a silly old walrus to them, unfortunately. No need to bother them with unnecessary details."

"They care about you, you know." Julian said when the Captain had turned his back to him in favour of a view across the lake. "Kitty wanted to know you were alright."

"That doesn't change things."

"No, but I think you could let them all know you're okay and you're not doing it."

"That doesn't help."

"Are you feeling better after your walk, at least, Teddy?"

The Captain's head tilted slightly more towards Julian. He looked at him for a second, then back out at the lake, straightening his posture. "Please don't call me that."

"Well, I don't know what to call you."

"You call me The Captain. Everyone calls me that."

"But it's not directly linked to you, is it? Let us know who you are. Please. If you want, I'll never bother you again."

The Captain was silent for a few moments. Exactly how long those moments were, Julian couldn't say. However, they felt like millennia before he actually spoke. "I do want to tell people. I just... I can't. It's too much. My heart... it palpates, and I find it rather taxing to breathe. I can't cope with all the sounds and the light and the people. The cold air calms me. Although I can't actually feel the cold anymore, but it makes it feel better."

"Well, why don't we go back in, and everyone is quiet and you just do it. Like you're acting, or something."

"I suppose I could try..."

Julian smiled, and the Captain had turned toward him (although he was staring at the ground before he looked up into Julian's eyes). "Okay," Julian said, and for a brief moment, the Captain smiled too.