Ghosts One Shots

Captain : Hidden Beneath (pt 5) FINAL

The sun shone dully through the window, and The Captain lay awake in his bed. He felt hollow – not necessarily in a bad way, just that he no longer felt that his insides were filled up like a stuffed bear, no longer had lead weights in his heart. Well, maybe he still had the latter. The loss of his life and his lover (after the letter on the documentary, the second loss of his lover) still left a gaping hole that was heavier than it should be.

He wished he could touch things again, sometimes. Wished he could be fully embraced by someone so much that all the air was taken away from him, wanted to feel the cold night air, whispered a silent hope he could stroke a soft fabric again. He could see and hear all that was around him, as always, but he wanted to interact. Being set apart from the rest of the universe was less appealing when he couldn't control everything. Being a ghost was only comparable, and not the same, as making war strategies from England for North Africa.

Most of the ghosts had been there when he died – the news was only a real shock to Pat, Julian and Alison. Although, most of them weren't fully aware of all the circumstances, he thought. But still he would never know how much they saw when he was alive.

For a brief period of time, The Captain's mind was quiet. The wind only shook the trees outside slightly, and apart from the slight creaking of old wood the house was rather quiet. He didn't know what time it was – he always knew what time it was, just not now. He hadn't checked. Despite something burning inside of him to know, it was mildly peaceful to just exist.

The Captain got up, walking to the window and staring out of it. The land hadn't changed too much since he'd died, yet it felt so different.

He left the room, walking down the corridors and then the stairs, towards the living room.

"Captain!" Alison said, making him turn on his heel.

"Alison."

"I watched the documentary you were talking about, if you don't mind. I'm so sorry. How are you feeling?"

"Oh... I, uh... well, I'm not sure. It's hard to come to terms with everything that has happened, I suppose. I've never really shared that much before."

Alison smiled at him. "Well, now you know that nobody here is going to judge you, hopefully you can be more open? In general."

The Captain smiled back, the sides of his mouth stretching slightly allowing his moustache to almost fan out, and the smile lines set it at the sides of his eyes, unchanged from the day he died. "Perhaps."

He turned, hand naturally resting on his swagger stick, and marched towards the living room again. Robin and Julian were playing chess, occasionally giving their mildly irrelevant views on an argument that Thomas was having with Pat. Fanny sat beside them, looking slightly disgusted at anything they said that she deemed inappropriate. Kitty skipped into the room with Humphrey, putting him on a table.

The Captain joined the others. "What's all this about?"

Thomas looked at the ground, Pat's mouth hung open slightly. "Thomas is saying that you can rhyme 'worm' with 'swarm' but you just- you just can't! It doesn't work! They don't sound the same!"

"It's called a half-rhyme!" Thomas insisted desperately, "And you tied to rhyme York with New York, which is the same thing!"

"I think you'll find that those are two very different places Thomas."

"Yes but you're rhyming the word 'york' with itself – it just doesn't work. It's cheating."

"Wasn't the first part argument," Robin said from by the chess table. "Thomas want write poem about Captain's life."

"Thomas, you were there when I died," The Captain said, trying to be calm. "You could have asked to write a poem any time before now."

"But it never had the same passion! The lost love!" Thomas exclaimed dramatically.

"Yes, well," Fanny interjected, "it's the Captain's personal life and you wish to turn it into a farce of the real experiences he's had. And besides, you can't write it anyway-"

"No, Fanny, it's quite alright," The Captain said. "And if you don't mind I'd..." He could do it. He could become himself finally, shake off the part he'd had to play. "I'd prefer it if you called me by my name now, instead of The Captain all the time. It shall take some time to get used to for me and everyone else – I've not been called it even for a few years before my death. But that's better, I think."

Fanny looked awe-struck. "You want us to call you..."

"Theodore," he said, smiling – almost – but sadly this time.

"Are you sure?" Kitty asked, apprehensive but excited.

The Captain – Theodore – nodded.

"Did I miss something?" A confused Humphrey asked.

----

He stood looking out over the lake. The sound of bullets ricocheted in his head, and he tightened his grip on the swagger stick in an attempt to stop them. He was finally having a moment of happiness, couldn't he just have that? Just this once, could he finally be Theodore, not the shell-shocked Captain who returned home from war after barely seeing anything. Stupid, he thought, to be so bothered by it when so many had seen and suffered far worse.

He heard the rustling of a footstep behind him, and turned like a shot, prepared to face whoever was there-

Pat stood there, walking towards him. Just Pat.

"Ah, Patrick," the Captain said, standing up a little straighter, "how are you?"

"I'm alright thanks, mate. How are you?"

The moment felt silent. "I don't know yet. I'm trying to be more myself, but I'm not sure if that's the right thing to do."

"Well, this is all you've got now - yourself. And us, of course, but you have nothing to lose. Do you want to live out – well, if you'd call it that – the rest of your death... empty? Not empty that was the wrong word. But you know what I mean? You'll miss your life, but you've got to take what you've got. Don't let your identity fade away for Queen and Country if it means something to you."

"Thank you, Patrick."

They stood for a moment until Pat said, "Theodore is a bit long so are there any nicknames I can...?"

The Captain turned to look at the scout leader. "They used to call me Teddy."

Pat nodded, and gave a thumbs up. "Gotcha."

More silence. Pat's presence had slightly calmed the war inside his head. Maybe it would never go away, but he was starting to realise that the people around him could help that. He could cope, if he wanted to; he could get better, if he needed to.

"The war's over," The Captain stated. A fact.

The war was over. The war against Germany that had ended almost 80 years ago, the war against the bigoted people that said being gay was a crime, and the war in his mind that had stopped him from sharing had finally begun to come to a close. How he just had to clean up the battlegrounds.

"Yes it is," Pat replied with a sort of all-knowing air that suggested he might know that the statement had a deeper meaning but wasn't completely sure what it was. "Do you want a hug, mate?"

As a Captain, it would be unprofessional. He should hide his emotions, lock them deep down, only care about winning and not the effect on personal lives. But he could retire from that role now – maybe he still needed control, but he could show some emotion.

"That would be good, thank you."

He turned, and Pat Butcher and the Captain – Teddy – embraced each other. Teddy felt the comforting pressure of someone encasing his body. He felt safe, loved...

He felt warm.

-----

The Captain stood beside Pat, perched on the arm of a chair as they listened to Robin's recount of an encounter with a bear. Julian walked up from behind and placed a hand on The Captain's shoulder, smiling. "Well done, Teddy."