All characters are, of course the property of BBC
Also, reviews are greatly appreciated, so please let me know with any questions/ comments you may have, and why you did/didn't like the story!
The television chattered happily as Alex crammed another biscuit on her mouth, all the while complaining that she was far too full to take another bite; she was having trouble stopping.
"Nobody is making you eat anything," said Hal, mildly exasperated.
He was in a strange mood. One that he couldn't quite place. Human again. Human. Human. An odd word for an odd condition- the human condition, to be precise. Rather cliche, but true. There were so many new horizons... He had a reflection again, and a soul, and a heart that beat like a drum in his wide chest. He couldn't quite believe it. After all these years... now he was always turning around to check his reflection in the mirror behind the bar in the living room of the Honolulu Heights Bed and Bath in Barry, Wales. For first time in more than five hundred years, he, Hal Yorke, could see his own reflection...
His nose was larger than he remembered, and he was beginning to realize that short hair really did suit him better than he'd originally believed. He kept running his fingers across his face, watching as they moved in real-time in the mirror. He shook his head. It was unreal.
"Nobody's making me stop eating either, I see," Alex smart mouthed through a face full of biscuit, bringing him back to earth. Bits of biscuit crumbled onto her face. Without meaning to, Hal reached over and brushed a crumb from her dainty chin, his finger lingering on her soft white skin. She looked startled for a moment, and the laughed, a wide-mouthed, full-voiced laugh. Hal pulled away, surprised and confused, feeling heat rise to his face for the first time in five centuries. "Oh my god! Oh my god, Tom, look, I think he's blushing! Our Hal is blushing!" Alex guffawed, punching Hal in the arm, getting crumbs on his dark grey zip up. "I honestly didn't think you were the type."
"Ow," said Hal morosely, rubbing his upper arm and brushing away the crumbs. "I'll have a bruise there in the morning, you do realize."
"Oh, Shut up ya big baby. You're worse than wee Ryan with his dumb tattoo! He cried. Actually cried, when he saw it in the mirror." With that, she stretched out on the couch, gingerly resting her head on his shoulder. She wiggled her toes in the air and sighed. "It feels sooo good to finally take off those fucking boots. Not to mention that ghastly-but-totally-sexy-bra." She winked at Hal and he flushed again, blood pinking his no-longer-pale cheeks. "By the way, thanks again Tom for the clothes," she said, turning to look at him, "I couldn't stand another minute in that stupid dress."
Tom nodded sheepishly. It was strange seeing Alex in different clothes. In his clothes, to be exact. The tank top and cargo shorts suited her surprisingly well, although he knew McNair would have thought them unladylike.
He was beginning to realize that despite all of the good advice that McNair had given him over the years, his father had been mistaken about many things- in particular, the enigma of women.
"No problem Alex, glad yah think it suitchya," he said, watching the TV. Her bare, narrow shoulders felt strange to see, almost pornographic. The leather jacket and green dress almost seemed like a part of her now, as permanent as her eyes or her hands, and the change of clothes made look like an entirely new person. "I think we should-"
"Oh, oh, be quiet," She exclaimed, cutting him off, "They're about to announce the price!"
Later that night, After Hal had brushed his teeth, done his press-ups and re-aligned all of his books on their shelves and gotten into to bed to read, (more out of habit then necessity: now that he knew he need never worry about the bad Hal again, the old routines were a little pointless) there came a knock at his door. "Come in," he said distractedly, looking up, mildly irritated at having been interrupted in his rereading of "Watership down." It was a favorite book of his, one which he'd read on numerous occasions. The pages were soft around the edges, worn from too much handling. It was familiar text.
"I guess I can't rent-a-ghost in here unannounced and catch you by surprise anymore, huh?" said Alex, squeezing through his door. She was still wearing Tom's shirt on the top and- to Hal mortified realization- only underwear on the bottom. He'd never seen so much of her before... Her legs were long and athletic from years of playing swing ball and other sports with her three brothers. She might be small, but she was far from frail.
"Can I, um, help you with something?" He asked, struggling to keep his eyes and his voice level. He'd never been very good with women. Especially not beautiful ones.
"Yeah, I was wondering if you had any idea where we kept the linens." She scratched her head in embarrassment "I realized none of the beds in any of the other rooms were made up. I never bothered to find out where the sheets were, because I didn't need a bed before, since, you know, ghosts don't sleep." She said the last bit in helpless humor, making it clear that her time as a member of the deceased still weighed uncomfortably heavy on her mind.
"Uh," Hal realized he had no idea where they kept fresh sheets. Annie would have known. It was Annie who had given him this room, Annie who'd made up beds for Leo and him when they'd first arrived, along with Pearl, at Honolulu Heights all those months ago. "I haven't a clue. Maybe you could sleep downstairs? Under that ridiculous furry blanket Tom dragged home last week for the sofa? I'm sure it's plenty comfortable."
"Uh-uh. No way am I spending my first night's sleep in four bloody months downstairs on the sofa like some trampy li'couch surf! No sir!" She planted her foot firmly on the floor and crossed her arms, looking for all the world like a statue of consternation. And then, for the very first time, she noticed the size of Hal's bed. "Say, that's at least a full, right?" she asked slyly, her pixie head tilted ever so slightly to the left as she sized up the situation.
"What are you getting at?" Hal asked warily, setting down his book on the nightstand.
"There's more then enough room in that big ol' thing for the both of us, dontchya think?" she suggested with sly glee. Hal looked uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna try anything, Hal." She said. "Besides, I thought you didn't have to worry about being a chaste little school girl now that your 'curse has been lifted' and stuff. You're free to do wha' ever the bloody hell you want."
"It's um, not that," He closed his eyes briefly. "I was just, uh, wondering if perhaps you'd be a little more comfortable sleeping on your own."
"Naw, I've shared beds before plenty of times." She caught the look of surprise and embarrassment on Hal's face and laughed. "Not like that." Then, with a twinkle in her hazel eyes, "Well, not always like that. If it makes you more comfortable, I'll go and grab a couple'o the pillows offa the sofa to make a little partition between us—" She stopped mid-sentence and raised her eyebrows, soliciting a response from him.
"Oh fine, you can spend tonight in here. But just tonight! I'll help you find a proper bed tomorrow." He rolled onto his side and picked up his book again. He felt the mattress move as her slight weight sunk into it. His heart beat a little faster as he realized how close she was to him. How near their bodies were in the intimate setting of his room.
"Whatchya reading?" she asked quietly, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck. He stiffened, instantly on defense.
"It's called Watership Down, Alex, and it is a book that I wish to continue reading at the moment," He said, a little too brusquely. He felt her turn away from him, and immediately regretted his harshness. She'd told him on several occasions that he had terrible people skills, and it was true. So very true.
A half hour later, he set the book down and got up to turn off the light. As he stood, he realized that Alex's eyes were trained on him, and she was far from asleep. He could see fear in her eyes. Fear was an emotion with which he was well acquainted, even if he did not often experience it. Quietly, he sat back down beside her. "What's wrong?" He asked, remembering his harshness from earlier, and doing his best to make amends for it.
"I can't fall asleep," she said quietly. Much quieter then he'd ever heard her speak before. It was unAlex-like. "It feels so much like dying. Like drifting away. Like becoming- what's the word?- ah, intangible. And what if I dream? Jesus, what if I dream about when I died? Or all those poor people Hatch killed! What if I dream about them? All bloody and scared and sad and dead. Like I was." Her eyes were wide in her pale face, and all her good humor seemed to have gone, transformed by fear. Hal wanted nothing more than to banish that fear, but he couldn't find the words to do it. He'd never been very good at offering comfort. Something else to add to the list of thing that he was terrible at. "Do you ever dream about them, Hal?" She asked suddenly.
He inhaled sharply, unprepared for this personal question. "Who?" He asked carefully, narrowing his dark eyes. He was sure he knew what she was talking about, but couldn't bear to speak it.
"All of the people you've killed," she whispered. He sighed, his head dropping. Shame twisted in his gut. Why? Why did she have to ask him that?
He looked so forlorn that she risked moving closer, not quite touching him, but narrowing the distance greatly. He either didn't notice, or he didn't care.
"Every night," he said at last, still not looking at her. "I dream of them every night. All the faceless thousands. Although, god, for me, they are not faceless. Oh no," He barked a humorless laugh, "I always remember their faces, their names, the words they cried out as they died. Who was brave, who begged, who cried. I can't forget a single one of them. They are so real to me, like reflections in a window pane. Always staring back."
"That's awful." Her hand brushed his leg, a friendly, kind gesture.
"Isn't it?" he agreed, all of his senses on point with her touch.
"What about when you're bad Hal? Do you remember them then?"
"No, not then." He hesitated, and then admitted, "I think it's part of the reason behind my ache to return to him. To evil and murder. He is fearless, and remorseless: a hedonistic brute. He knows no pain, no guilt. Do you know what it's like, not to feel any guilt?" she shook her head, not sure what to say. "It feels like being free."
They were quiet for a minute. It was a far from comfortable silence, as both of them reflected on the depth and implications of what he'd said, and then Alex asked, tentatively. "Hey, um," She squinched her eyebrows together, "would you mind reading me some of that book?"
He was caught totally off guard. "Huh?"
"Watery Down, or wha'ever it's called."
"Watership Down?" He corrected absentmindedly, running his fingers over the fading cover.
"Yeah, that." She put her hands behind her head, relaxing into his soft pillows. They smelled not unpleasantly of clean sweat and the high-end shampoo that Hal liked to use on his hair.
"I'm half way through it though," he protested, picking the book back up. "I'm afraid it's not going to make any sense to you."
"Doesn't matter. Just start where ever. Doesn't bother me." Hal realized that she was offering him a way to comfort her. A way to put her at ease.
"Okay then. Let me explain it a bit first." He did. And then he opened the book to the page that he'd carefully marked with a plain brown leather bookmark. "When several creatures—men or animals— have worked together to over come something offering resistance and have at last succeeded, there follows often a pause…" He began, then paused and looked down at Alex. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted towards him. He could see the eyeliner she'd worn for more then two months beginning to smear off. It almost looked like she'd been crying
"Don't stop, toothless," she said after a moment, opening one eye, then closing it and nuzzling deeper into his bed and closer to him. He smiled, just a little bit, and continued to read, his refined voice swinging over the words with the fluency of someone who has nearly memorized the text that they are reading. Before long, Alex, stopped moving restlessly, and settled into a comfortable position, facing towards him. Her breathing was easy, but he could feel the intensity of her listening.
He didn't stop until he heard her give a gentle snore.